T-79

It's a beautiful, sunny Sunday in northern Germany (no, that is not a joke), so I decided to be productive and finally put up a blog. In fact, it has been sunny for SIX of the last SEVEN days, a feat that surely hasn't been accomplished for many long, dreary years here in the 'Burg, and quite frankly I'm shocked. But you don't see me complaining, eh? Everybody in beautiful CNY is enjoying snow and less than freezing temperatures while I dare to venture out in a light spring jacket and aviators... ahh, the good life of the exchange student.
I've always hated New York winters and I'm fairly convinced that you won't find worse ones unless you mistakenly wander into the Arctic circle, or perhaps Siberia, and my theory is proving stronger every winter that I pass in other, more northern climates-which has only been one so far, but hey, northern Germ' is nothing to scoff at- and then people want to know why I decided to go to Virginia for school.

My dear father, an extremely competent and intelligent man, had the right idea and decided to take a nice reprieve from a few meters of the fluffy white stuff and came to visit me in January. It really has been a long time since I posted! Anyways, I will start the recap of these last 2/3 months with our epic European journey.

Soo. We started off flying from Hamburg to London. The idea of London has always appealed to me. I think that started around the time I started thinking that British accents were sexy, and when I saw the Amanda Bynes movie "What a Girl Wants," in which she flies to London in search of her long lost father (who ends up living in a palace) and ends up meeting a sexy British guy with said sexy British accent. In the end, we stayed in a nice hotel, not a palace, and I met no sexy British guy with a sexy British accent, and unfortunately I didn't get a chance to ride on the back of his motorcycle and we didn't fall in sexy British love, but in spite of all of that, we had a really fantastic time in London. Armed with our Oyster Cards, we cruised the London metro (thanks to my now amazing public transportation skills) and visited all the must-sees. My dad's favorite was the Tower of London: "the most feared spot in the world for 900 years," right dad?! ;) If any of you are curious about the Tower, please contact my father, his name is Gary, and he will be more than willing to explain in detail that what you would like to know. We saw Parliament, the Big Ben, the London Bridge (fun fact of the day: that bridge burned [hence "London bridge is falling down..." right? eh?] and the one I thought was cool was actually a whole different one, the Tower Bridge, which is super cool all lit up at night), Trafalgar Square, Buckingham Palace and the Changing of the Guard, South Bank, a ride on the London Eye, Westminster Abbey, the Borough Market and my personal favorite, and which I therefore recommend to any aspiring London visitor, the Tate Museum.

...just so you don't waste your time, that last bit was complete sarcasm. Don't go.

We stayed in Victoria, right next to the Victoria station-which is really a sight all in itself- right next to WICKED! Ah, Wicked...

So the background to this little bit here goes back to my previous short term exchange to Spain. That was almost three years ago now, which is freaky...I was at a 40th birthday party today and I was like, 'scheisse, I'm almost twenty, which means I'm almost thirty, and then..oh man..this is going to be my birthday party...' but I'm rambling. In Spain I met someone with the name -surprise, surprise- Jesús, who ended up being one of my best friends there. Anyways, Jesús has quite the voice and is, in fact, studying theater in London. We spent a day with him. The point is that Jesús has been telling me for yearsssss now "Sieeerraaaa, you haahhve to go see WICKED! It's ahhmaazing" (although he's Spanish he speaks perfect British English). He's seen it not once, not twice, not five times, but NINE times- and that was the last I heard. It might be more now. So, since we were right next to the WICKED! theater, we went to see it; and that, my friends, was probably the best decision we made the whole trip. The play was AHHHMAAZZZINGG indeed. I now understand the years of nagging that Jesús put me through. If you ever go to London, please, do yourself the favor of seeing that play. We saw Stomp too, which was just as good in its own way. Of course, we had a few rounds of fish n' chips, because you can't go to England and not eat fish n' chips. What you can avoid, though, are "mushy peas." These are regularly served with fish n' chips so we ordered them as a side one day. I don't know what I really expected, but mushy peas are literally just mushy peas: overcooked and smushed together. Yuuuummmm...not.

I could go on and on about London, but I must move on. Before I do, though, I have a very important update about the Bus Driver Nod.

We flew RyanAir from Hamburg to London which means that the airport was slightly outside of the city, and we had to take a bus into the center. So we're in this coach bus which was operated by some company-I can't remember the name- driving down a six lane highway (on the left side, weird) and, believe it or not, I see the bus driver throw the nod/hand wave to the driver of another bus of the same company going back in the direction of the airport. I was amazed. Who knew that this Bus Driver Nod was such a worldwide thing? Not I, that is for sure. This repeated another good three or four times, proving that it wasn't just a random occurrence.
WAIT! Because, if that isn't crazy enough, I have more.
I was back in Germany a few weeks later and sitting in the very front of a train. The little, what do you call it, cabin? for the train operator is closed off and tinted, but, lift your jaw off the floor, it was sunny yet again, and I could see the back of the driver through the tint. And I bet you can guess what happened: we passed another train, and yes, they did the Nod. Therefore, I can no longer call this the Bus Driver Nod. I must rename it, so hence, from this moment on, I will refer to it as the Public Transportation Operator Nod.


Jesús and I


Dad and I chillin' outside our palace


Dad in front of the Apollo

From London we flew down to the Canary Islands. We started on Lanzarote, which is a rocky island with few beaches. It's best known for its volcanoes. We rented a open topped Jeep and literally went from the top to bottom of the island. The Canaries lie off the coast of Africa and have a perpetual spring climate, so for most of the time we had rather nice weather. Papagayo was my favorite beach:







Driving along one day we stopped at a little beach side town for dinner and ate at a restaurant right next to the ocean. The fish was freshly caught that day and was deeeliciouss



We went to the National Volcano Park and did a tour. The restaurant in the park uses the natural steam from the volcano to cook all of their food.



The tour was in a bus throughout the volcanoes. Lanzarote is, in the grand scheme of things, a young island, so its really barren. I just pretended we were on Mars.

From Lanzarote we went on to Fuerteventura, which was my favorite of the two: mainly because Fuereventura is all beaches :) Here we just relaxed. And we ate. Lots. At the hotel we had a private French chef named Dominique, and he was nothing less than a master in the kitchen. We quickly fell into a comfortable routine: wake up, breakfast. Sunbathe, lunch. Shower, dinner. Sleep, breakfast. Lunch. Dinner. I did make a valiant effort one day and made it to the gym. Then I went to dinner.
My dad did get in a few walks along the beach when I was in the sun. He's more the hiking type, while I'm the get-as-tan-as-possible type; hence, lounge chair. And what he reported back to me was no less than disturbing. Apparently, spread all over the beaches, were Germans. Naked Germans. And lots of them. I can contest to the fact that there were tonsss of Germans on both islands; both of our hotels were actually German, and although the Canary Islands are a part of Spain, more German is spoken than Spanish. Anyways, these Germans had no qualms about baring it all; I guess they're even more hardcore about the even tan than I am.

From Fuerteventura we headed off to Valencia, Spain, to visit our people there. Spain is like my second home and I love love loveee it. We continued our eating theme- but then again, I expect no less from the Spanish. Dad helped my host dad make the arroz one night:


And this is the finished product, along with the host fam:



What really makes me frustrated is that we get to Spain in the beginning of February and it's 70 degrees Fahrenheit and sunny. We are lucky to get that in NY in summer. The Spanish have no tolerance for anything remotely cold. They're hesitant to go outside when it's 10 degrees Celsius- 50 Fahrenheit. I, a native New Yorker, am chillin in capris and a North Face and they, wrapped up with gloves, hats, and scarfs, tell me I'm out of my mind. Just sayiin'.

Next we headed off to Cremona, Italy, to visit my host family from my short term Italy exchange. We were only there two days, which, in typical Italian fashion, were filled with food. In fact, the only pictures that I have from Italy are of pizza. Whattup

A calzone..for one


:)

A good few pounds and few weeks later, we flew back to the 'Burg and wrapped up dad's stay. The next weekend I headed off to Berlin with the exchange students for an orientation. The four hour bus ride from Hamburg to Berlin gave me a small taste of what the Eurotour is going to be like...and I can't even start to fathom. 18 days with all 50+ kids is going to be...how should I put this...quite the experience.


The Berlin Wall

After that, the main highlight was the Usher concert I attended. I waited outside for three hours before the doors opened so I could get as close as possible, and there were still a fair amount of people in front of me. However, when you've got this in front of you, it's easy to understand why thousands of people waited hours in cold weather to get in front.


Heellloooo. 2nd fun fact of the day: he's single, ladies

And now, as we come upon April, the days are getting longer (thank God) and sunnier (hopefully?). I counted and I only have 79 days left here; I actually have even less in Germany itself, due to some travelling I'll be doing. Time has flown. I know the next thing that I know, I'll be in the airport on the morning of June 14th saying goodbye, and that's even harder to comprehend than German.

THE HALFWAY MARK

I've been so busy the past month here between Christmas, New Years, the Reeperbahn...and school, of course... right soo, I ALSO moved in with my second host family, the Dedecks, who read this blog-Hallo, Thomas!- which means that I can only say nice things now... dammit...hahaha just kidding I have nothing but good things to say about my new family! I am having a fantaasticc time here!
Okay so as of this Saturday, January 14, I will have been here for 5 months and will have 5 months left :( this is very sad :'( hence the tear. It's crazziiness to think that I am halfway done, let me just say. Time is a-flyin' here in the 'Burg. At this time last year, when it had just turned to 2010, I was thinking, "This is the year I graduate!" and now I'm thinking, "This is the year I go home..wah." But I shan't dwell on the future, it's recap time peopleee

Weihnachten
Christmas here in Germany is a bit different than in the States. Probably the thing that's most different is the fact that they open presents on Christmas Eve instead of Christmas morning. The entire family gathered at our house to eat and exchange the prezzies, and eat cake, of course...lots and lots and lots of cake and cookies. And chocolate. Did I mention lots?

The tree!

Do I even have to write anything here?

Anyways, the main point that I came away with regarding Christmas presents here is WIDGESC: that is, When In Doubt, Give the Exchange Student Chocolate. I am now the proud owner of enough fine German chocolate to get me through until at least the end of the world in December 2012; and hey, if we all survive, I'll just come back for another Christmas to get more. So we ate cookies and we ate chocolate and then we ate some more cookies and some more chocolate and then we went to the Grandparents' house and ate some more cookies and some more chocolate and then hey! it was my host brother's birthday so can you guess what we did? Yes we ate some more cake and cookies and chocolate!
Now you ask yourself, do her jeans still fit her after all these cookies and cake and chocolate? This leads me into the next section.

How to Stay Fit in Germany
This is really less daunting than you would think. I have of course already mentioned McFit, aka Bros'R'Us, but there is a simple solution to the three Cs.
...
Public Transportation!!
Logically the next thought that comes to mind is, how can that possibly help? Please, let me explain.
In order for me to get to school, McFit, or the Reeperbahn, which are the 3 places I most frequent in ascending order, I must walk approximate 7 minutes to the bus stop. Then I take a five minute bus ride to the train station, and from there I can take the train to anywhere I so desire. The point that I'm trying to make is that the two connections I make provide ample opportunity to miss the coming bus/train, and hence, SPRINTSSS!!!!!
The most dispiriting things that you can experience in Germany are the sight of the bus/train arriving while you are still a good distance away and the sound of the beep that means the train doors are closing while you're still on the stairs. When this happens, your heart sinks and you busttt a** to get to the stop. I'm talking full out, qualifying for the Olympic sprints. I've run in heels, in snow, in rain, on ice, even pushed the elderly and young children out of the way to get to the arriving vehicle (okay the last part is a slight exaggeration) before the doors close. But in all seriousness, I even JUMPED a FENCE last week to catch a bus. Even I was shocked. I didn't know I could even do that. But I impressed the hell out of myself, and to be completely honest I felt really BA after that.
Anyways, this situation arises multiple times every week, and on a bad day, multiple times a day. In this way you can keep fit without even hitting the gym. Genius, really. Once Katelyn and I were in another town, Lüneburg, and the train back to Hamburg only went on the hour. We were a good half mile away when we realized we had seven minutes to get to the station. It was cold, it was icy, I had a cold, but we ran. We missed it but it was a valiant effort in any case.
Of course, this situation is never fun to be in, but it can be incredibly entertaining when you're the one safely in the bus/train watching people trip over themselves to get on. If the bus/train driver sees you running and waving your arms and is nice, they will generally wait, but there are naturally those idiots that just driiivee awaayy. I wonder if they count how many times they get flicked off as they look back in the rearview mirror...

The Island Off the Coast of Georgia.
Any New Yorker who has traveled abroad knows that there is great popularity to be achieved upon stating that you are from New York. Whenever someone asks me where I'm from and I say New York, the reaction is, without fault, "REALLLLYYYY!!! ohhh COOOLL. New York is my DREAAMMM!!" Of course the majority of people don't even know that there is such a thing as New York STATE; they only know the city and automatically assume that I live there. In fact, if somebody then asks me, "the city or state?" I give them extra points because I am impressed by their knowledge.
Now, depending on the situation, I sometimes clarify that no, I'm not from the city, I'm from the state. But this really all depends on my mood. If I want to see the adoration shining in their eyes I just don't say anything.
ANYWAYS, when Kate and I are out, we are asked frequently where we are from. Imagine: I say New York, and fireworks go off in the sky. Then she says Iowa. This is when you hear crickets, and the person has a blank look on their face. We recently got sick of the awkward silence that follows "Iowa," so we decided to do something about it.
Most people are really only familiar with the states of New York and California, and perhaps Florida and Texas, because those are the ones most featured in American television. Hence, last weekend, a rather genius idea struck me. Why not have some fun? Most people have next to no knowledge of the geography of the US. So now, when Katelyn said that she comes from Iowa, and the other person asks where that is, we tell them that it is an island off the coast of Georgia. And we're counting how many people believe it.
Originally we said that it was an island off the coast of Alaska but that's a little hard to believe, so I just thought of the random state of Georgia and we stuck it off that coast. Right now we're up to 4 people who have believed us. Our greatest coup so far has been a full grown man. Katelyn even threw in the fact that you can take a boat from Iowa to New York and he ate it right up. The hardest part of this whole thing is keeping a straight face while explaining where Iowa is situated. I was feeding the said man this story and allllmost cracked up twice but I pulled it off in the end.
Exchange students are easily entertained, and let me tell you, this gives us a great laugh.

The No Pants Subway Ride

please take a minute to watch this video:



A friend of Katelyn sent her a link that said that there would be the No Pants Subway Ride, Hamburg version, just yesterday, so naturally we went in search of it. We took the train all the way out to Sternschanze where the meeting place was supposed to be, but found nobody. We even went to the pain of following the preplanned route to the Rathaus, the final meeting place, in anticipation of a.) seeing a train of pantless people or b.) joining the train of pantless people- I really can't say for certain if we would have taken it off, we were gonna see how many people there were- but, to our great disappointment, we found nobody :( I would've been epic, though.

A closing picture: Here we have our second picture with the pole dancing grandma. This is from New Years Eve. We had already taken a picture with her a few months back, but you know what? She's awesome. If I'm 70 and pole dancing, I expect a pat on the back and somebody to take a picture with me too.

Spanien, Weihnachtsmarkts, and Eskimos.

Since I have last posted I've been veerryy busy!

So here is a synopsis of my epic adventures.

For the end of November I was in Valencia, Spain, visiting "family"... whenever I say that I have family in Spain people are like "OH VAIR COOL, you have family there?!" and I patiently explain that technically we are not related and I don't have hot Spanish sangre running through my veins, but I have friends that are so close that I consider them family. I spent the better part of three weeks basking in 20 beautiful degrees (celsius...so that's 70 farenheit...IN NOVEMBER!!!) and sun EVERY DAY, HARK. I have gotten so used to sunless days here in the 'Burg that it actually felt weird to see the sun every day. That's how sad this situation has gotten. Anyways all in all it was a fantasttiiicc little vacay. The Spanish can eat like no others. Seriously, they have five meals a day: desayuno, almuerzo, comida, merienda, and cena. FIVE. This is very dangerous when one is trying to avoid the Rotary 30, you know? Especially when they're cooking you all of the best Spanish foods...we're talking paella, calamares, tortilla española, etc. I can live off that stuff.

Does this look healthy? Niet.


Oh, how about this? Wait..no.

I also decided that I want to do the UVA-Valencia exchange in a few years. I loveeeee love lovee VLC soooo much! Can I argue with 70 degrees in November? Nope. For any of you who haven't visited Valencia, or Spain in general, GO! Spain is an amazingg country that shouldn't be missed.

But I eventually had to go back.

So, after almost missing both of my connections to get home, I had a mere one night of rest before I had the second Rotary orientation in a town called Bad Oldesloe, slightly outside of the city of Hamburg. All of the Rotary orientations are extremely fun; after all, there are 50 students from all around the world gathered in one place, so things are bound to get freaakayy. Instead of all staying in one hostel together, like last time, we were split up into host families. I stayed with Jessica, from Texas, with the nicest couple everrr. Our mom was hilarious. Our first night, they took us out to an Italian restaurant, and at the table next to us was a large birthday party. There were four cute little German kids running around; two of them were the CUTEST most stereotypical German, blue eyed, blond haired little boys in matching outfits, and two were little girls. Our host mom saw the older of the two girls and suddenly had a strange expression on her face. Naturally, we were like, what? She goes, "You know how the Devil's eyebrows curl up on the ends? Look...that little girl has DEVIL EYEBROWS" hahahahaha. The next morning we were eating breakfast and talking about gluhwein, a typical Christmastime drink here. It's basically warm spiced wine, sold at the Weihnachtsmarkts...but I'll get to that later. The point is, our host mom started telling us about an Indian boy they had at their house a few years back. Apparently, he was very serious; he had gone to a military academy and was very stern, didn't have any friends, would always stand at attention, and refused to drink alcohol. So she tells us, "We decided to have some fun with him. We got some gluhwein, put a lot of spices in it, and told him it was punch." HAHAHAHAHA I was DYINGG.

The second day, all of the students got back together in a large group and we went to Lübeck, an old town that wasn't destroyed during the war; therefore, there are a lot of old old medieval buildings. We toured the city a bit and went to the Weihnachtsmarkt. Weihnachtsmarkt means "Christmas market." There are Weihnachtsmarkts in every city, and they consist of booths selling Christmas trinkets and food... currywurst, bratwurst, CHOCOLATE FRUIT YES, spiced nuts, crepes, gluhwein, etc etc etc. Basically, if you go to a Weihnachtsmarkt, you're going to eat. So we saw that, walked around a bit, and took in the sights. Lübeck is very pretty, picture time:

The old city of Lübeck


The gate to the city, and my good friend Karmen, from Mexico :)

This was also the coldest day of my life.
By lunchtime, I was literally freezing-the type that doesn't go away until you take an hour long shower.
The restaurant that we ate lunch in was cold, too.

**Side note about German coldness: For the past week it had been -10˚C. That's a crisp 14˚F. So you see how it's reasonable to get a little upset when you go from +20˚C to -10˚C, right? I mean, I'm not out of line here, am I? And this is how the Germans do heating: there is no central heat. Every room is heated separately by a wall heater. What ends up happening is a quick dash from room to room. It's strategic. It all comes down to planning and bare necessity: what room will be heated? Is it worth the dash down the unheated stairs to get to the kitchen? Is food really that important? Or, can I hold it a little longer, because the bathroom surely isn't hot yet...
you see what I'm saying.

Then, after lunch, we headed out to go Go-Karting, in-wait for it- a huge unheated warehouse. By this point I think hypothermia was setting in and my organs were slowing down. After three hours in that building, it hit me. It was if the clouds opened up and the sun shined down onto me (I know that that's a very unrealistic metaphor since the chances of that happening here are next to none, but whatever) and everything became very clear:
Why does all the money go to Africa?
What are people doing for the Eskimos that are surely freezing in the far north? Hm? Does anybody even think of THEIR suffering?
And then I thought to myself, if, one day, I ever found a non-profit, it's going to be called, Bring Heat to the Eskimos.
And then my next thought was, "I hereby swear to myself, Sierra Nicole Prochna, that I will live in a tropical or semi-tropical climate when I am older."

Hallowhat?

So, it's crazy that it's already November! I'm coming up upon my third month here next week, which in a way is surprising, since I remember when I was like, "Aha! I've been here a week!" At times time seems like its flying, but at others, well, not so much. Anyways, to catch up:

Hallowhat?.
There is really only one word to describe Halloween here in the Germ, and that word is disappointment. Indeed, I prefer to call German Halloween "Hallowhat?" The tradition of Hallowhat here is growing very slowly...sort of like my German. Hahaha. Actually now that I think about it, Hallowhat here is a perfect comparison for my German. Let's embark on a metaphor: no decorations, only the basic ideas, functioning on a child's level. Carved pumpkins, skeletons, and the like were few and far between. I think that the holiday was a time for all of us Americans here when it really struck us that, scheisse Toto, we're not in Kansas anymore! I got especially sad when I saw my friends' pictures from home... trust American college students to make Halloween an excuse for a four day party weekend. Nevertheless, what the Germans lack in Halloween, they make up for in the Christmas season.
Obviously (or not so obviously?) Thanksgiving doesn't exist in the Germ. Let me insert a quote here by my dear friend Alexa, provided yesterday whilst talking about Thanksgiving, for shits and giggles...

"Thanksgiving is obviously only celebrated in America right? Haha I sound dumb.
But idkk.
Wait, I'm dumb.
Obviously."

Boy, I miss my friends!
So the point is, when Hallowhat fades out of its dazzling glory here, supermarkets and stores bring out no pilgrims, nor turkeys, nor cornucopias. In fact, my friends, we have already started the Christmas season! I walked into Penny Markt on November first to be greeted by jolly old St. Nick, advent calendars, and little chocolate snowmen. In the spirit of the two month Christmas season, I decided to be the best older sister ever and picked out two Milka advent calendars for the younger siblings, which I shall be sending back to the good ol' US of A shortly. Having been enlightened to the German phenomenon called chocolate, ranking with beer-drinking, lederhosen-wearing and wurst-eating as the things that Germans do best, I take on the responsibility of making sure that the brother and sister don't have to wake up every December morning to the fake chocolate plastic crap that's found in American advent calendars. No, they're going to wake up every morning and thank the Rotary gods that their sister was sent to the Land of Chocolate Happiness.

Speaking of chocolate happiness...

The Return of the Chocolate Fruit
Yes, folks, you read correctly. It is my pleasure to announce that the chocolate fruit stick is BACK!
My slight depression due to the Hallowhat season was quickly dissipated when I learned that the Winter Dom was on its way back. Because really, who needs Hallowhat when you have a chocolate fruit stick? Nobody, that's the answer. As a quick refresher, the Summer Dom was where I first stumbled upon my German destiny, which ended up being a loyal follower of Schokolade Frucht. So, imagine my extreme joy when I heard that the Winter Dom would be here until December. Actually, don't even bother, because only one who has tasted the deliciousness of this chocolate happiness could even start to imagine.
So, as you can easily believe, I invited my American friend Katelyn with me to go to the opening night of the Dom, which was two nights ago. Who am I if I don't spread my knowledge of the chocolate fruit stick to others? A scrooge, a bitter, bitter evil person, that's what. When I first told Katelyn about the stick, she, never having even heard of it, gamely played along with my enthusiasm. However, I turned her into a true believer last night, when we trekked through typical Hamburgan rain, umbrella-less, dressed to go out, all in pursuit of the chocolate fruit. Our game plan was to hit the Dom then head down to the Reeperbahn for a night out on the town, making it a very legit German night.
In typical German fashion, it started to rain when we got to the Dom, so we had to tactically plan our advance throughout the fair as we went in search of the perfect chocolate fruit stick, while at the same time trying to use the overhangs of the food stands to avoid the rain. Complicated, really. You see, we wanted the mixed stick, which was unexpectedly hard to come by at this time of year. The mixed stick contains pineapple, grape, strawberry, banana, kiwi, and sometimes apple. However, being late in the season, that assortment is quite rare, with the majority of sticks being just strawberry or just banana or just pineapple. At the first few stands we didn't find the right mix, so our conversation went something like this:
"Okay, so you see that fried dough stand? Run diagonally there, then head over to the bumpercars... look to the left, I think I see some fruit at the stand right next to it. And, break!" After repeating that process several times we had to settle for two sticks, one a pineapple strawberry mix and the other a banana and strawberry mix, which we shared to get the maximum effect. By the time we walked down the Reeperbahn to get to Grosse Freiheit, which is a street with a lot of clubs, my hair was soaking wet and I literally had rain running down my face. I take the blame, because I didn't follow the cardinal rule of living in Germany: Always, always, ALWAYS bring an umbrella. But I have no complaints; the ends justify the means, right? And you're wrong if you think that we don't have plans to go back tomorrow to get more. That's called obsession, folks.


Typical German dinner: Sausage and potatoes.

Katelyn's first chocolate fruit stick ;)

Can't you see the happiness on my face?

****In my first post, second maybe, I posted a picture of myself and some friends in front of a grandma pole dancer. Well, this is her. I had to get a picture. That guy on my right? He says "Viskey." Keep reading for an explanation.

***Side note: Kate and I were talking about making an American dinner for our host families...in reality, though, we can't cook, and what is American food anyways? A hamburger? French fries? So we decided that we want to make them a selection of American desserts, like s'mores and dirt cups and brownies. SOO if anybody has any good ideas for a good American dessert to make, we would appreciate it:)

Whiskey vs. Viskey

Having been put in a jolly mood by our first chocolate fruit stick of the winter season, Kate and I headed to the 99 Cent Bar, a real German institution. As explained by the name, everything is indeed 99 cents. We did that, blah blah etc etc, then headed across the street to stand over the overhang of a casino as, hark, it was still raining. We were looking across the way at the sign advertising the 99 Cent Bar's drinks when we were confounded by a a question pertaining to German pronunciation.
As you may or may not know, Germans spell Vodka as "Wodka," since a "w" is pronounced as a "v" in the German language. However, right under "Wodka" on the sign was listed "Bourbon Whiskey." So we wondered, both extremely curious, if Germans say "Whiskey" or "Viskey." So, what do two American exchange students do in that situation? Conduct a poll, of course. Any person that walked by, be it man, woman, drunk or policeman, was asked, "Entschuldigung? Sagen Sie 'Whiskey' oder 'Viskey'?" The first guy we asked said "Whiskey," but, having been taught well by the American schooling system, knowing that one answer wouldn't hold up in a court of science, we expanded our poll. Good thing, too. In the end it came down to about 15 people that said "Viskey" and two that said "Whiskey," so we would have been very misled had we just listened to the first guy.


Kate and I outside of the Casino where we conducted the poll.



The Most Stereotypical Thing, Ever.
Okay, so we all know the typical German stereotypes: Germans are lederhosen-wearing, beer-drinking, sauerkraut and sausage-eating, blond hair, blue eyed, and humorless people. Out of all of those, I have found only two totally true: beer here is INDEED cheaper than water at times, that is a fact. Also, there is a lot of sausage eaten here. On the other hand, I have yet to see someone wearing lederhosen; there are a good amount of blond haired people here, but by no means a overwhelming majority, and my friends know how to have a good laugh.
A few weeks ago I went to celebrate my friend Jenni's birthday. She had a party at her house with a bunch of people, music, chips, etc...the usual stuff you'd find at a birthday party. Except one thing. I was looking around for the birthday cake, curious as to what a German version would be like, but only saw various types of chips and drinks. Then, I saw a covered bowl. "Ach, soo" I thought to myself. "There must be some sort of cake in there, perhaps cupcakes." So I lifted off the aluminum foil, fully expecting to see, at the least, cookies. What did I find, you ask?
Cake? No.
Cupcakes? No.
Chocolate chip cookies? No.

I uncovered a bowl full of sausages.

I kid you not.

All of the Germans were slightly confused when I burst out laughing. At that point, I wasn't even hungry, but I ate one because I just HAD to. It's the principle of it, you know?
I'm not sure if that's the norm at all parties, though. I'm one for two right now; last night I went to a friend's going away party, and there were no sausages. I'll be keeping an eye out though, from now on.

I won't be posting again for a while because tomorrow I am going to my favorite country in the world, Spain, to be with some of my favoritee people in the world :) Bis später!

G(TL)

Ciao! It has been a whilee since I last posted, but I have been quite busy taking advantage of the fact that I, being in Europe, can get to another country as quickly as it takes to get to Pennsylvania from Skantown.

Hence, I will do a quick recap of all things important.

I can't even remember the last thing I wrote about...wait as I mache a Pause to reread my blog haha.

OKAY so it seems that I haven't mentioned that I started school! Ach sooo. Four weeks ago, bright and early, I went with my host brother to start my year at Gesamtschule Harburg...and FEG (I don't know how to pronounce the whole thing, or frankly, even what it's called, so I just go with the abbreviation). I go to two schools: here, schools sort of share classes sometimes. For example, Samir takes French and Geography at FEG and the rest of his classes at GSH. My first day I went to Spanish, where I met a fellow American exchange student, Kate. From Spanish we went to Geography, where the class was given a paper to read and dissect. While the class read the paper and discussed the topic, Kate and I used the time to translate...the first sentence. Perhaps we got a bit into the second sentence, I forget.

What it all boils down to is this: I understand almost NICHTS in any class, so I started bringing my German book to study. I'm trying to take Spanish in both FEG and GSH because it's the only class I can participate in. Olé!

Fast forward through boringness to the end of the week, when about 60 of the kids in my grade and I went to Rome.

Okay, so obviously the German schooling system has its pitfalls. Let's face it: they have 13 years instead of 12, and they only have 6 weeks of summer vacation. That sucks. However, let's not get too down on them. They have one very important advantage on the American schooling system, or at least Skaneateles's; they know how to TRAVELLL. Starting in kindergarten, the kids go on week long trips to "bond." I mean, that's legit. Here, the classes are smaller and the kids are in the same class for almost their whole scholarly life; you better like those people, or you're gonna be prettttyyy miserable, eh?

Anyways, I digress. Let me throw out a fun fact: the "senior trip" (and here I must put quotes, because the trip is laughable at best) at Skan is- are you ready to be blown off your feet- A WHOLE DAY AT DARIEN LAKE!!!!!!!!!

Seriously, what is that? No, really. I mean, come on; even the EIGHTH grade trip was 3 days to Boston.

The point is, here they don't half-ass the trips. There was my trip to Rome, a trip to Venice, and one to Barcelona, all for a week. This happens every year here, not just in the senior year!

So we all hopped on a bus at 2 o'clock Friday afternoon, embarking on a whopping 24 hour trip to get to Rome. My muscles atrophied by the 15th hour. I ask all of you who drive to Florida: what the hell are you thinking? Did you know you can get there in 3 hours by plane? Just saying.

After a whole day of my life that I will never, ever get back, we finally arrived to Roma. We all stayed in bungalows of 5 people in this camping/bungalow site thing.


THE bungalow


The row of bungalows occupied by rowdy Hamburgan German teenagers

Second fun fact of the day: People that live in Hamburg are called Hamburgers. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA that always gives me a good laugh.

Soo I stayed in the above bungalow with four other girls, who were all veryy nice. Everyday they helped me learn a little more German... in fact, I learned my favorite German word while there. Anyone who has learned or attempted to learn a foreign language knows that after you learn how to say hello, the next thing you learn is how to swear. This is a fact, and I challenge anyone to tell me otherwise. Therefore, everybody was more than eager to help me enrich my vocabulary. And that's how I learned fickpflaume. What does that mean, you ask? It means f**king plum! HOW GREAT IS THAT? Really, if somebody calls you a f**cking plum, how do you respond? "ah..pfff..your mom!" I mean, it's so British I loooooveeeee it.

One of the girls, Sophie, even heard me speaking German in my sleep. Apparently I had the urge to practice my past participles, as she reports that I was saying, "ge...ge...gehört." All that means is "heard" and I have absolutely no idea why I was saying that, instead of my more colorful vocabulary. Obviously my subconscious has to get some priorities straight.

Anyways, we did our thangg, ya know, saw the Colosseum, some catacombs, the Forum, St. Peters, the Pantheon, ate some pizza, etc. And, of course, we all bought the "I Love Roma" sweatshirts- alas, what is a trip to Rome if you don't have the sweatshirt when you go home? That rhymed.



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I'm pleased to say that this was my photography skill



So all in all, the trip was a really good time and I enjoyed getting to know the kids in my class. What I enjoyed even more, though, were every single one of the 28 degrees Celsius that Rome gifted us. Compare that with the 12 degrees that I regularly suffer in Germany, and you'll understand me.

Upon arriving back in the 'Burg, I had the overwhelming urge to hit the gym. This is where the title of the post comes in.

First of all, I am a proud member of what I consider the most sarcastically named gym in existence. I belong to the McFit fitness center. Tell me that the creator of this gym was kidding, please. MCfit? Yeah, let's go get MCfit then hell, let's hit MCdonalds, buy the MCmenu and get MCfat while we're MC at it. Germans, I'm telling you. I don't think one year is long enough to understand these people.

Nevertheless, I believe I was on the quadricep machine when it really MChit me: McFit is a brofest. The man:woman ratio, if I had to estimate, is probably 10:1, no lies. Then my brain made the next logical leap, and I started to think about Jersey Shore, and, of course, GTL. If you don't know what that is, stop reading my blog, I'm not going to explain. Go get a life and learn the fist pump.

PAUSE. I must do my good deed for the day right now.
ATTENTION ALL EXCHANGE STUDENTS, AND/OR PEOPLE WHO LIVE OUTSIDE OF THE UNITED STATES AND WANT TO WATCH THEIR FAVORITE TV SHOWS ONLINE.
If you are like me, you have probably tried to go to a site, such as mtv.com, for example, to watch, as another example, Jersey Shore. And there, you have encountered the infuriating notice that, "We're sorry, but this video is not available outside of the U.S. due to privacy laws." DO NOT DESPAIR! I don't know how many of you guys have figured this out, but there IS a way to get around this! I wish I knew this before I bought the season ticket to JS on iTunes, but okay whatever... my German friend enlightened me to the fact that proxy websites work for watching TV shows. We've all tried proxies to get on Facebook at school where it's blocked, but I never thought to use it to watch stuff online. SO, just google "proxy websites," choose one, connect to the website and enjoy!

Anyways, I started thinking about the Germans' proficiency at the GTL routine. I came to the following conclusions:

G: From what I can see at McFit, the Germans got the G down. They would do the Situation proud. I can't testify to the fact that they have the situation that Mike does, but from what I can see, they're trying.

T: The T in Germany is an ABSOLUTE FAIL. I do not support fake tanning in any way whatsoever, but come on, people; spray tans don't look to orange these days, ya know? There is a point where white is TOO white, and many Germans have missed that exit and are on their way to albino.
Now, I realize that it's not their fault that they live on the 54th parallel and the sun rarely shines, but for god's sake!

[[Fun fact of the day number 3: Indeed, Hamburg is on the 54th parallel. I was under the wrong impression when I thought that New York and Germany were in relatively similar locations. In fact, NY is around 43˚, just about where Rome is. New York is cold enough for me, so I'm not liking the 54˚ness here. My level of happiness has a direct relationship with my distance from the Equator. The closer I get, the happier I am. The opposite is also true. I'm all for the "Midnight Sun" phenomenon, but get me the hell outta here if I'm only going to see daylight for 6 hours everyday during the winter!]]

L: Their score on this one is iffy. I don't know if it's hygiene or laundry that's the issue here. The clothes look clean enough, but the smell contradicts that...

The Finer Points of the German Transportation System

There are a number of things that I find very entertaining/interesting about the German transportation system.

1.) The Bus Driver Nod.
The Bus Driver Nod (BDN) is something that I witnessed early on in my exchange, and have continued to see on an almost daily basis, if I'm lucky. One of my first days here I was on the bus going to the train station when our bus was put into the prime situation for the BDN to occur, although I didn't know it at the time. This happens when our bus is waiting to turn left at an intersection and another bus, coming at a ninety degree angle from our left side, turns towards the right, therefore giving the two drivers a second of relative closeness. THIS is when the BDN goes down: the drivers make eye contact, smile slightly, and nod, as if to say, "Yes, I see you, brother, fellow member of the Bus Driving Fraternity." I LOVE THIS. In fact, every morning, I do my best to get a forward-facing seat on the left side of the bus just to be able to witness this event.

2.) The Coveted S-Bahn Seat
There is undoubtedly the one seat on the S-Bahn that anyone picks if they have the option. I like to call it the "coveted seat." To explain, I have made a diagram.

As you can see, the train consists of two sets of four-seat pods, which repeats up and down the car. The coveted seat, hands down, will always be seat #1: forward facing and next to the window (a good place if you are tired and want to sleep). If I were still in Honors Bio and had to analyze this situation, I'd say that since it replicates the drivers seat in a car, people are naturally inclined to take it. The second best seat is therefore #8, which I call "shotty," obviously, and then comes either 2 or 7. Seats 3,4,5 and 6 are always the last to be taken. This is a fact. The only other situation that would happen is that seat #1 is occupied, and someone takes #3 because they don't want to sit next you/ across from you and then have to make eye contact. You can walk into a train on a fairly slow time, and even if there are only 5 people in the whole car, they will be in the coveted seats. I might consider publishing a study on this subject.

3. Dogs
The constant presence of dogs has definitely been a main difference that I've noticed between the US and Germany. By that, I mean that dogs in Germany probably have more rights than women did before the gained the right to vote in the 20th century.
Dogs are welcome literally everywhere. I have dined next to dogs, I have shopped next to dogs, and, in the spirit of this post, I have ridden the S-Bahn next to many dogs. Nobody blinks an eye when a person walks Fido onto the train.

4. Swangin' Bottles
It is an everyday event to see a person drinking either from a bottle or a liquor bottle in the train system. Odds of seeing this obviously go up the closer you get to the Reeperbahn on a Saturday night, but that's not to say that I haven't seen somebody sipping a Becks at two p.m. on a weekday. I actually saw the most fascinating thing two days ago: I was on the train (indeed, I was in the Coveted Seat), and as we pulled up to a station, I saw a man on the platform with a designated beer pocket in his coat. I witnessed, no lie, him drink from his bottle, open his coat, tuck his bottle into an inside pocket, close his coat, and continue his conversation with another person without breaking eye contact. To say that I was extremely impressed with this is an understatement.

Ridin' Sola

SOO when I first arrived in Germany, I saw that Jason Derulo was going to come to Hamburg on Sept. 15th. I held off on buying a ticket, because realistically, how popular could he be in Germany? Not very, right? WRONG. When I went to buy a ticket two weeks ago I found out his concert was sold out. WELL. So the ticket guy, Jan (that's not his full name, but he simplified it for me since the German version is, well, German, and therefore above my brain ability), very nicely offered to put me on a waiting list in case any ticket became available. So I didn't hear anything, and then it was September 15th, so I was like, all right, no concert for Sierra. Aha, wrong again. So it's 12 o'clock on the 15th, I'm trying to learn German in class, and lo and behold, Jan calls me, saying that he had two tickets available! (Lance, the other American, had said he'd go with me). Buttt he was sick, so I was left with the dilemma of whether or not to go by myself. Going to a movie by oneself is lonely enough, and I haven't even done that, but a concert is on a whole other level, eh? I started walking down to the ticket office, and I was planning on walking in and turning down the tickets, but as I approached I thought to myself, you know what? Screw this, I'm going to be spontaneous! So I went and bought myself the ticket.

Well, the concert was at this place called the Docks, which I knew to be located on the Reeperbahn. All I knew, though, was that I had to get off at that stop on the S-Bahn, and then I was lost from there. So I got on the train, and there were a bunch of girls next to me, all dressed up and such. Now, it was only 6 o'clock in the evening, and it is true that Germans drink at all times during the day and go out all days of the week, but I hedged a bet that they were going to the concert too, and not clubbing on a Wednesday night. Sure enough, two of them whipped out their tickets and I was like, muahahehe. So I tapped the girl next to me on the shoulder and I said, "Sprechen Sie Englisch?" She did, and I explained that I really didn't know where I was going, and it ended up that they didn't either, but she very kindly invited me to wander along with them until we stumbled upon the concert.

When we got out of the subway and were trying to figure out which direction to go in, I saw a group of girls similarly dressed and had the brilliant idea of following them to the concert, because they surely must know where to go. As it happens, they had the same brilliant idea as I had. In the end, though, we got there, that is the most important part.

Now, the cool place about this venue was that it was only for 1,500 people, so even if you were in the back, you would still be relatively close to Jason. This was not like when I went to the State Fair to see the Jonas Brothers and could have used a spy satellite to focus in on the stage, I was so far back, no. So we waited through the opening acts (BTW one girl came on, she's Danish and her name is Nabiha, REALLY GOOD, so if anybody wants to check her out I recommend it...) and two other girls heard me speaking English and asked me where I was from. I'll cut to the chase and tell you that in the end, we figured out that I'm going to their old high school, and I actually live literally one minute away from them. This was super cool because I was an hour away from my house, in a city of almost 2 million people, and I met my neighbors. ANYWAYS they were vairr vair nice and even gave me a ride home at the end of the concert. Howeverrr the point I'm slowly getting to is that Mr. Derulo was awesomeee in concert, his shoes were BALLIN' (I want a pair soooo bad), he could dance like Usher, and his abs were CUT. Let me share with you the highlight of surely mine, if not every girl's, night:


I realize that his head is not visible, but in reality that's actually not important, and that was not what I was aiming for when I took the pic.

So, all in all, I was very happy I decided to Ride Solo (hahaha get it?!) to the concert, as I met some very nice Germans, and I even got a Ridin' Solo bracelet to top it all off. Beauuuutious.
The other thing I want to share happened last weekend, when I was out with my friends from Colón. We went to the workplace of this other kid that goes to Colón, a bar/lounge/dancefloor place called the Indochine, where he bartends. It's right on the harbor, which is beautifully lit up at night, and a classy place. I knew that not knowing German at some point would pay off, and this is when it happened.
Adam had put us on the list so we could get in for free (VIP much?) and as we were going in the bouncer dude started talking at me in German, which, as I have mentioned previously, I don't understand. I looked at him with what I can only imagine was a blank face, and said my #1 catchphrase: "Ich spreche kein Deutsch." [I don't speak German]. He said something again (because I would understand it the second time? I mean, really?) and again I just looked at him, so he gave up and waved me through. Viola! My friend Stéfanie informed me that he was asking if I was over 21, because for some reason it was a 21 and older night. This is strange, because in Germany, at 18 you are a full adult, and that includes any and all drinking privileges, UNLIKE a certain country I'm familiar with... nevertheless, I was happy that I didn't have to lie, because I would of.
ANYWAYS we got in and it was salsa night, so on our way to the bar area it was necessary to make like a dodgeball player and dodge all the couples swinging around. The people were maddd good at salsa-ing, and as it happened one of our friends is Columbian, so he tried to teach us some of his moves... ahem. Needless to say, we collectively decided we want to take salsa lessons. I'm telling you, these people were LEGIT. The club even brought in two professionals from Cuba who absolutely broke it down.

Okay this is not the important part, however. Adam took us aside, and was like, "I'm going to bring you guys to the ice bar." So I'm standing there thinking, sweet, we're getting ice cream! Explanation: in German, ice cream is "Eis," pronounced "ice," so naturally, being in Germany, I thought in German and thought he was bringing us to an ice cream bar. WRONG AGAIN. Honestly, I try and I try to learn German, and when I think I've finally understood something, they're talking in ENGLISH. Will I ever win here? No, that's the answer you're looking for.

So we go into this room where there are tons of jackets, coats, mittens, hats, etc lying about, and then I started to put two and two together and realized we were really going into a bar made of ICE. Indeed, we suited up and walked in, where everyyything was totally iced out. The seats, the walls, the bar, even the shotglasses were made of ice! Of course I didn't bring my camera because I didn't think I'd be taking pictures of an ice cream cone, and I can't even rob any pictures from my friends' Facebooks because they're not up yet :( Basicallyyyy it was mad cool and I thought to myself, this is the cool thing about being an exchange student; doing stuff like this!

Lastly, the Fischmarkt. What is the Fischmarkt, you ask? Ah, well. It is and isn't what it sounds like: a fish market starting at 5 o'clock Sunday mornings. Why would I wake up to go to a fish market at 5 a.m. on a Sunday morning, you are dying to know? It's because, actually, I never went to sleep Saturday night! So, the other part of the Fischmarkt: the so-called "last party" after at night out on the Reeperbahn. Here, in the wee hours of the morning, is probably the only place in the world that you can find girls dressed in stilettos and miniskirts at a fish market at 5 a.m., ever. I am willing to bet money on that. It is also one of only places in the world where you will find a rather large group of people drinking beer at seven in the morning. All week my friends and I planned on going, because the Fischmarkt is THE place to be in Hamburg if you're not on the Reeperbahn. Seriously. Today, at school, my teacher asked me,
"Have you been to the Reeperbahn?"
-Yes, oh yes I have.
"Okay, have you been to the second destination in Hamburg, the Fischmarkt?"
-Aha, oh, haven't I.
"Ach so. Have you been to the third destination, the ____?"
-Could you spell that please?
I wasn't able to read his writing. I'll let you guys know when I hit up the #3 spot.
ANYWAYS I took a power nap Saturday evening in preparation, which was a good thing, because I strolled in the door at 7.15 Sunday morning. I had just dined on a nice breakfast of currywurst and hot chocolate (I'm not German enough for a beer at 5.30; needless to say, one of my friends was, although I shall not name names :)), and fell asleep on the subway home, therefore almost missing my stop, had it not been for my friend (and also American Rotary Exchange Student) Amy's timely wake up.

Schokolade & the Zombie Crutch Fire Dance

First off, I finally got pictures of the floating man!! During some solo sailing I made Sam sail us over to the far side of the lake where the guy chills. After performing a stunning stopping maneuver, we had a lil' photoshoot. All photo credit goes to Samuel Martinez, sailing buddy extraordinaire...


So now we see how I got a little confused, yes?



The bird scheisse wasn't so apparent from a distance...



It is possible that I stole this from Samuel's Fb... danke Sam :) This was from when we were sailing a few weeks ago.

So it has been about two weeks since my last post and there are two main things that I want to report about: chocolate covered fruit and the meadow!

a.) Chocolate fruit: Now, the question might come up of why chocolate fruit merits coverage in the blog. It's because it's DEEEEELIIIIIIIIICIIIOOOOOOUSSSSSSS. So, the first time I tasted this German miracle was when I was at what I like to call the German version of the New York State Fair, and by that I mean junk food stands, rides, and creepy carnies. [Note; Carnies are equally strange all over the world, that's a fact]. It's called the Dom, and I went the other week with my host bro Samir and Sumit, the Indian roomer. We were walking around looking at the food and at first I was eyeing a candy apple, but thanks to baby Jesus, I made a life changing decision and chose the chocolate covered mixed-fruit stick. If nothing more ever comes out of this exchange to Germany, I will not complain. That's how good it was. We're talking kiwi, grapes, strawberries, pineapple, banana, and apple covered in world class German chocolate.

(picture from Google Images) THIS IS WHERE IT'S AT. These are strictly strawberry and banana sticks, but they'll do.

The next week, which was last week, I was on my way to school one morning and I noticed lots of little tents being set up, which turned into a fair along the lake. Lo and behold... MORE CHOCOLATE FRUIT! Not only was this a fair, but it was a three day fair, and yes, that means three days of chocolate covered fruit! This is what one of the fruit stands looks like:



They also sell cookie hearts, which can be seen hanging up, that say "Ich Liebe Dich," or "I love you." ...cute. Two Germans demonstrated the proper use of these to me, which is as a necklace. Actually I don't know if that's true, but I saw two people wearing them so one can only assume.
Anyways, the rest of the festival was nice, and I went with some Colón Language School friends at night, and there were fireworks and the whole shebang.
The great thing about Colón is that everybody is from all over the world, and also everybody is slightly crazy since we're all attempting to learn German. WHAT A FRUSTRATING LANGUAGE holy momma. But the point is, I've met some great people, and I've had a good time going out with my current friends (I only say current because people tend to leave after a month). I've met only one other American here, HEY LANCE! if you're reading this, and also Rebecca from England/Spain, and Stéf and Fabien from Switzerland. In my first group of friends I had a bunch of people from Spain, and also Edward/Eddy/Eduardo, from Australia, who imparted on me one of the best sayings I've heard yet: "A German joke is no laughing matter." HAHAHAHA. I can't explain how much I love that. So far that is soo true haha. Today I was at lunch with some Colón people and our German teacher and he tried a joke out on us... well, it was actually morbid. Crickets were chirping until I pulled out Edward's line and everybody was like "Yeahhh true hahaha." Ed was really full of great lines: "London's nice, but it has too many English."
Anyways, us current people went out to the Altona Fest last weekend to see the "fire show." We ended up seeing a rather disturbing interpretive dance show, which involved a little bit of fire at the end. I was expecting a fire dance such as the ones at the Blue Parrot in Mexico, for example, but instead we got this:



What is it? I wish I knew. At first I thought they were supposed to be zombies, but then they started to dance with crutches. Soooo. HOWEVER we diddd find CHURROS!!! I mean, they weren't exactly Spanish quality, but who can complain when you find churros in Germany? Not I.

Fabien eating some churros.
The "Altona Fest," though, did not qualify in my book as a true, legitimate German festival, as I found no trace of chocolate fruit.

b.) The Meadow: Two Sundays ago I was bored so I decided to go out for a run. My host mom had told me that there was "nature" about five minutes from my house, so I was like hey, I'ma go find me some nature! SECOND BEST CHOICE AFTER AVOIDING THE CANDY APPLE. What I found after a bit of running in the wrong direction was a B.E.A.U.T.I.F.U.L. nature preserve that is now one of my favorite places in Germany. After the chocolate fruit festivals, that is. I was running through a path in the woods when all of the sudden it opened up into this huge rolling meadow full of some sort of purple-flower plant. I'll stop trying to explain, picture time:




So I kept running around like hey, this is sweet, and I finally got to this one part that opened up into a mini valley (top picture) and I found a tree stump and sat there for a good hour just relaxing in the sun and listening to some Dave Matthews. Needless to say, that was one of the best hours that I've spent here, and I've gone back a few times when the weather has been good.

Lastly, I can't leave out these pictures, which gave me a good laugh and at the same time may possibly explain why some Europeans look down on Americans:


Is that an American riding (or, attempting to) a mechanical bull? Why, yes it is! Way to rep, bud!

Sailing Amidst Sausages

So the other day I woke up, and was quickly confused. I looked out the window, and knew I must be mistaken, because I thought that what I was seeing was the...what's it called again...ah yes, the sun. The large yellow thing in sky, yes? Well, I couldn't be completely sure, because I hadn't seen the aforementioned object in a week. For those of you that don't know: it rains every day in Hamburg. EVERY DAY. Jeden tag, if you want it in German. At that point, I knew it was going to have to be a good day, because surely God himself was smiling down on Hamburg.
I was on the train on the way to school when we crossed over a river. I happened to be looking out the window and upon doing a double take I realized that I had indeed seen a man standing, with his hands on his hips, on the top of a buoy in the middle of the river. He was dressed in black pants and a white button down shirt. Of course, it was 8 in the morning, and sunny, so my brain was already hazy, but I knew it probably wouldn't have made much sense to me even if it was mid afternoon and cloudy. Was this a form of German pre-workday meditation, perhaps? Was this his preferred way to get to work? Floating downstream to the office building? Whatever it was, it was too much heavy thinking for the crack of dawn and I promptly returned to snoozing.
Later that day, I went back to the city to my sailing lesson. On the way from the Hauptbahnhof (the main station) I have to pass the Atlantic Hotel, which, judging by its proximity to the lake and external appearance, is quite classy- too classy for a poor exchange student, like myself. Anyways, I was walking up to it when I saw two stretch limos waiting outside, with a photographer. I started calculating my chances of getting into a German tabloid (I'd call that an accomplishment, if done within the first week in the country) if I were to cross the street, lay low until famous person A and B emerged from the hotel, and quickly hop into the background of the pictures. However, thanks to a helpful year in AP Calc, I figured I wouldn't have enough time to complete Operation Tabloid within the five minutes I had to get to the sailing club. Next time. So I continued on my way and proceeded to my lesson.
It was about 7:30 in the evening, close to the point where the lake merged into a second lake, when it happened: THE FLOATING MAN ARRIVED! Yes, there he was! I was in the middle of pulling the front sail taut when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the floating man from 12 hours earlier. I understandably grew extremely excited, promptly dropped the rope, and turned to wave. But something was wrong...there was a pigeon sitting on him. Surely he wasn't that deep in his meditation... even a Buddhist monk would realize that a bird was relieving itself on him in the middle of his meditation, no? And then came a rather depressing moment when, upon closer inspection, I realized that the man was actually...wooden. Booorrringgg. A real let down. I mean, a real man floating on a buoy is much more entertaining than a wooden man floating on a buoy, at least in my book. I'll try to get a pic during my next lesson to show you all.
I digress. Now, I get to the main point of this post, for which it is named. After this disappointing encounter with the wooden man, we continued sailing. Now, to explain the lake on which I sail. In the middle of Hamburg there are two lakes that I know about; there may definitely be more, but with my limited knowledge of public transportation I tend to stick to the same areas in a valiant effort not to get lost. Nevertheless, the lake I sail on is connected by a little waterway, crossed by a bridge, to another lake, where I eat lunch. Both lakes are small, but my lake is extremely crowded, as there are at least three sailing clubs and numerous rowing clubs. Whilst sailing, it is common to hear the boom-boom-boom of the drummer counting time for rowing teams. Also, there are at least 30 sailing boats out at all times. My professor, Moma, informed me that motorboats are illegal on the lake, and it is used only for sailing practice and regattas and rowers. My sailing prof, Moma.
So Moma, Samuel (my fellow Mexican sailing student) and I are sailing on our merry way when the smell of German sausages starts to permeate the lake. Like I said, it's not that big, and with sailing AND rowing clubs on all sides, we were quickly overtaken by the smell of grilling. By this time it's 8:15, we haven't had dinner, and our resolve to sail is quickly diminishing. It's soon completely destroyed when Moma tells Samuel and me that our own club is having a cook out. We run through a few more drills and head back to the Pieper Club, where we find that Moma was not lying. Moma buys Samuel and I a round of Becks and Samuel buys us a round of sausages. So there I sit on a dock in the middle of Hamburg, drinking a girly beer (I prefer Becks Ice, beer mixed with lemonade) and eating a sausage, and I think to myself, this is really a German moment, you know? It doesn't get much more German than beer and sausage.
This post is getting a tad long and I want to sleep, but I'll push through so I can tell you about last night: my first glimpse of the real German culture. And when I say that, I mean the Reeperbahn. What is the Reeperbahn, you ask? Well, well, well. The Reeperbahn is a rather famous road of clubs, bars, strip clubs, and whorehouses. After going out for drinks with some of my friends from my language class, I and my Spanish friends split off to take a look at this oh-so-famous road. We started by taking the metro. I knew we were on the right line when I looked around and saw drunks stumbling around, girls dressed in miniskirts and swinging bottles, and heard raucous laughter. In the train, a girl next to me very kindly offered me a swig of her Jagermeister. I politely refused, don't worry, Mom. In the car behind us, I heard what I can best describe as a frat party, although I couldn't quite see what was going on due to the amount of people in the car. We exited the metro into craziness; on a Saturday night, the Reeperbahn's at its peak. I got my first glimpse of
a.) a grandma pole dancing (see background of picture)
b.) a man dressed in a bunny suit

and c.) a whorehouse
My Spanish friends weren't as impressed as I was at seeing the prostitutes, but for a girl from a town as small as Skaneateles, that was quite the moment.