27 December 2011

Deustch Klasse. Take Two.

Hallo, mein Name ist Ashley. Ich komme aus dem USA. Ich bin zwanzig Jahre alt. Mein hobbys sind malen, lesen, und fußall. Ich spreche englisch und ein bisschen deutsch. Wie heißt du? Woher kommst du? Was sind dein hobbys? Was sprichst du?

German. What a language. I speak in it, dream in it, I think in it. It's invading my brain. Sometimes I even forget English words for things because of all the new German vocab I am learning. Languages enthrall me and German is no exception. But geez, this language is kicking my butt. Most of the time I look like a tongued two year old trying to say something. But I take pride in knowing that I have learned a lot and gotten better in the three months that I have been here. Just need to take a deep breath and constantly remember that I am just learning.

When I first arrived in Germany, it became very apparent, very fast that the German I knew so far at that point just wasn't going to cut it. Well. I knew a lot thanks to the wonderful class I took over the Summer. The problem was accessing that info in real life moments. Frieda could communicate better than I could and she's two. I felt beyond dumb. I pride myself on my ability to communicate through my words. Those of you who know me, know that I never shut up. So finding myself in a totally different culture and then not being able to communicate barely at all was beyond frustrating. It was embarrassing. I was beyond relieved when Johannes and Christiane signed me up for German class (deutsch Klasse).

My class was to be from early November to late December, five days a week, four hours a day. I was slightly dreading having to sit that long, especially in the morning. I just don't have that kind of concentration. Too much of a wiggle worm. But I knew it was worth it. I absolutely needed to improve my German. It wasn't an option to back out. I needed this.

The first day of class I walked to the school. VHS Karlsruhe (an adult school) is only a ten minute walk (or a five minute bike ride) from my apartment. I walked up to the big brick building and proceeded to try and push a door that you are supposed to pull. Story of my life. I do this all the time, no matter where I am in the world. I entered the classroom with the usual first day of class jitters. I had already realized that this was a great opportunity to meet some people my age, and I was holding my breath to see who would be in my class. The classroom was small, and the desks were set into a large square in the middle of the room. I sat down near the door next to a girl with lots of curly hair. I watched as each person arrived and wondered about where they were from and why they were here. Then the teacher arrived. And she immediately started talking in German. Come to find out, she only spoke German. I just about died on the spot.

As the days and weeks went by I realized how blessed I was to being take this German class. My teacher, Irene, was super sweet, funny, understanding, and extremely patient. Her speaking only German was the kick in the ass that I needed to force me to speak in German. As for my classmates, they were a blessing too. Once we got into a comfortable groove that most classes fall into, everyone became friends. I adore each one of them. I could go into detail about each of them and how awesome they are, but I won't embarrass them like that haha. It was just so refreshing to have people near my age to relate with and hang out with. Being away from my friends and family back home has been hard. But my classmates have helped alleviate missing home. Through this class, not only did my German improve a whole bunch (along with my confidence in regards to speaking it), I made friends from around the world.
Celebrating Ioana's Birthday! (Top row: Maria and Kush Bottom row: Me, Nacha, Ioana, Gabriel, and Carmina)
Out to coffee on our last day of class. (From the left to right: Irene, Maria, Ioana, Edina, Aryenn, Gabriel, Me, Cindy, and Carmina).
If someone would have told me this time last year what my future held for me I would have laughed at how far fetched it would have sounded. Me, live in Germany, learn German, meet people from all over the world, and see places I have only seen in books? Ha. Yet here I am.

06 December 2011

The Boots

Last night I cleaned my boots and left one by the front door and dutifully went to bed "early" like a good little girl. I am sure you are wondering why I would do this. Isn't it obvious? Sankt Nikolaus was coming, and I had to be prepared!
My very clean boot.
I can bet most of my American readers are very confused as of this moment. As for my German readers, they know exactly what I am talking about (duh). Shall I explain for the clueless out there?

When I think "Sankt Nikolaus" (Saint Nicholas... in English) I come up with two thoughts. One being of a big, jolly man in a red suit who comes and brings me presents on Christmas Eve. The other being the legend surrounding the actual Saint Nicholas, and all his kind deeds hundreds of years ago. But most Americans would only think of the first thought. Because Saint Nicholas and Santa are one in the same for us. But, this is not so in Germany.

Germans give Sankt Nikolaus a whole holiday all to himself. And the Weihnachtsmann (literally translates as "Chrismas man") gets a whole holiday to himself as well. Because they are different people! Nikolaus was an actual man who became a saint in the Catholic Church; while the Weihnachtsmann (Santa Claus) is not a real person, but just an embodiment of the Christmas spirit and a great way to bring joy to little kids, and parents, across the country. So Sankt Nikolaus day is on the 6th of December, and the Weihnachtsmann gets to spread his holiday cheer on 25th of December.

How this holiday works is that on the night of December 5th, you grab your boots and scrub them clean. Then, you put them on your doorstep with some milk and cookies. And if you have been good this year, Sankt Nikolaus will come in the middle of the night and fill your boot with candies and sometimes small presents. Then of course when you wake up in them morning you run to the front door to see what you have received. As you can tell this is a kid centered holiday in many aspects. The fun for the parents comes in another form. Usually if you have a party on or near the 6th of December, Sankt Nikolaus will show up. He will then read off all the naughty things the children in the room have done this year. Then the children are expected to sing a song or recite a poem to curry his favor. If they do well, all is forgiven and they get goodies. If not, Sankt Nikolaus' helper will swat you with a birch stick. Of course, all in good fun. Usually the parents get a good kick out of the kids squirming and trying to deny their bad deeds of the year.

So last night, Martha, Frieda and I cleaned our boots and set them in front of our front doors. We also prepared a plate of cookies and a glass of milk. All in the hopes that we had been good enough little girls this year and cleaned our boots well enough to receive candy. Then we went to bed early like good little girls should. (I must confess I didn't go to bed early. Shame on me...).
Martha and Frieda's boots. Along with the milk and cookies.
This morning I hopped out of bed (an unusual occurrence) and swung open my front door. There stood my boot. Full of chocolate. I was so excited! Before I closed the door, I noted that the girls had already grabbed their own boots. Typical. I hopped back into bed and gleefully dumped out the contents of my boot. All chocolate. Then, like the "grown up" that I am, I had to get ready for German class. I sadly couldn't linger over the awesomeness of the morning.
My boot and my loot.
I just got back from class and thoroughly enjoyed a few pieces of my chocolate. I want to make these last me till Christmas (when I will be getting more chocolate), but I doubt that will happen. Chocolate is just too good to resist.