Bauchnabel

I'm going to be out of commission for a little while, but have no fear; check back in a couple weeks. I just wanted to leave you with one note. I love German. It is a beautiful language with many good words. However, I have learned that there is no German word for innie/outie. I mean, there is a word for belly button, but, apparently, there is no distinguishing them. It makes me feel very sad. This is a part of one's identity and sense of self. It is like a club that you're initiated into at birth, and no one is picked last for this team. Well except maybe the last person ever born. He or she will be.

I'm not sayin'; I'm just sayin'.

Gebärdensprache

Fall Has Arove

Hygiene Gone Awry

I like soap. I like washing my hands. I like being clean. But what to do when hand-washing goes south? You lean into a wet sink... The soap squirts straight out, bypassing your hand and hitting either your pants or shirt head-on... There's no towel and you have to use your clothes or be the yucky wet-handed person... These are the moments in life when all you can do is sigh and think "Why me?" Wet is wet and there's nothing you can do about it. Paper towels will only leave follicles in your clothes. Cloth towels will do jack squat, and an air dryer is an slow and tedious solution involving awkward positions and no guarantee for success. And soap? Well that's a different story. Do you leave it? Hopefully it doesn't leave a dark mark. Or do you try to rinse it out? That never seems to work. It only spreads the soap and leaves you wetter than either of the other two situations. These are inevitable trials of life and the convenience of indoor plumbing.

I'm not sayin'; I'm just sayin'.

8 month check-up

Happy Birthday to me. Well maybe it's not exactly the day marking my birth. Nor is it a one year mark of anything. Although no part of birthday translates to "one year" as "anniversary" does. But I guess the day of your birth only happens once a year. Actually it only happens once in your life so technically your birthday could also imply the day of the week you were born on, therefore allowing for a birthday every week. Interesting. Well I, for one, actually prefer to celebrate my half birthday. It is such a great day. Today, however is my 8 month German birthday. In other words: Germany has survived me for 8 months. Whew. Now. I have hit a few landmarks. Some of these have been shared on previous occasions, but I just thought I would check in and give a little updatey-poo. You can stop reading at any time. This will probably get long. 

First off, I've had this stuck in my head lately:

"Stresses in our lives come regardless of our circumstances. We must deal with them the best we can. But we should not let them get in the way of what is most important--and what is most important almost always involves the people around us." (Thomas S. Monson)

Second, countries tend to be known for different things. I've now been to Austria, Switzerland, France, and Ireland (which I know isn't a huge list, but it's a sampler tray). They are known for their beauty, and I shan't deny that they have it. But can we just hold the phone for a second.

 

Why isn't Germany included in this list? I, for one, think this is an injustice. Maybe beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Maybe beauty can be found anywhere by those who seek it. Maybe you disagree with me. But a picture's worth a thousand words and I just gave you 5 not even getting into the architecture of the cities or the huge variety of landscapes. You can think what you will.

Moving on. I thought this would be the opportune moment to de-bunk a couple myths:

Germans--Very few are actually tall, blonde, AND blue-eyed. And I have yet to meet one named Rolph or Helga.

The German Language-- This does not involve spitting. I don't think I have ever been showered upon (except perhaps with love) by someone speaking German.

The Autobahn--Not that scary. It is not a racetrack between cities where everyone drives 300 miles per hour (although they occasionally push close to 300 kilometers per hour).

Ok. Who survived all the way to this very climactic ending? Conclusion: Basically Germany is pretty cool and stuff.

I'm not sayin'; I'm just sayin'.

Damage Control

In a Right-Handed World

Who knew there could be such thing as a right-handed butter knife? Let's just say breakfast on the first morning of my trip both began and ended in tears (although not really). I came in prepared to fend for myself and TA-DA there was a table that said "Laktose Frei Gluten Frei." I got a little choked up, I'm not going to lie. I may have done a very tiny happy dance, and the chances are good that a squeak emitted from my diaphragm. However, when I went to spread my Nutella, I noticed that it was all being eaten by the butter knife. Some handcentric person invented the plastic knife with a huge groove, allowing only right-handed use to be practical. What is this world coming to? Don't worry, having grown up left-handed I, like my fellow minority, have learned to adapt. Survival of the fittest, my friends. I'd like to see you use a left-handed butter knife. Although I have noticed that Germans eat with either hand. Maybe that point is negated. But the real point is, good thing I was able to rise above, otherwise I would have had a Nutella-less breakfast. Which would have been a shame after having already overcoming so much.

I'm not sayin'; I'm just sayin'.

I just don't want to be a poser

**Disclaimer: I actually really like it when other people say it with an accent.

Wurstzehen

I learned a new word! Wurstzehen. Meaning: Sausage toes. You might be asking why, and I have a very good explanation. Because I have them. But only on one foot. The right to be specific. So Wednesday night I was faced with the decision of playing volleyball or going for a run and then early bed. To be honest, I wasn't really motivated to go running but I got dressed accordingly and then, while stalling, decided to go to volleyball instead. While I was driving there I had that feeling that something bad was going to happen. Sometimes I just make things up so I figured I'd let it go and find out. I did the "what's the worst that could happen" with myself. I could get a speeding ticket... Or I could just not speed. Problem solved. I could get there and it's cancelled... In that case I got a nice drive in. No harm done. I wasn't even through the first set when I realized that I hadn't thought of one other possibility. I collided with someone else and twisted my foot. I don't think it's supposed to make those noises. I got up and after a couple steps I'd walked it off. It was mildly sensitive for the rest of the night (not that I would admit it), but once I changed into my normal shoes I realized that my shoes being a half size too small was a lifesaver. Apparently it stabilized my foot and kept the swelling down. By the time I got home it was easiest to hop from the car to the house. It progressively got worse that night until it hurt even to touch the ground. We just happened to have a surgeon in the house that night who took a look at it and said I should probably get it X-rayed in the morning just to be safe. And after a rough night I decided to see if I like going to doctors any more in Germany than I do in the US. The doctor, of course, said it wasn't broken, wrapped it, and gave me a bunch of ibuprofen. It was like being back home. But if the wrap had been tan rather than hot pink my little toes would have looked exactly like pigs in a blanket. Moral of the story: Listen to that little voice inside. But I have to be honest: After making the winning serves of two sets that came down to being won by two, and actually successfully spiking (that's what I'm calling it at least), I do not regret two days of hopping. Plus I'm going to have a darn nice left calf and quad after this.

I'm not sayin'; I'm just sayin'.

Remembrance

I can picture the classroom I was sitting in eleven years ago. We had to take FACS which was basically a home skills class, and we had a classroom with kitchens in it. A teacher came in and started talking to ours. We all just sat there rather bored and wondering what the hold-up was. We weren't allowed to turn the tv on. We didn't really know what was going on. When I got home that day, I found out that my country had been attacked.
Today my facebook newsfeed was smattered with statuses of remembrance, and one of those got me thinking about why we remember today. And many people around the world don't. But they remember something similar. Living abroad, I've heard different opinions of Americans/American patriotism, the war, terrorism, international relations, and even 9/11 itself. But no matter who you are or what you think of any of these things let me make myself clear: There is bad in the world. But there's good too. And we can all be both. There is no more room for hate toward anyone in this world. We all need to be more tolerant, more understanding, more accepting, and a lot more loving. We all need to, individually and collectively, be that good.

I'm not just saying. I'm definitely saying.

"Sport" as the Germans say

While I was on my trip (by the way it was for a convention) I participated in a few... activities. All were legal and none involved alcohol, just to clarify. One morning presented the opportunity for Sport (as the Germans say it. And I kind of like it; I'm not going to lie). Options: Basketball tournament, Football (as in soccer) tournament, Volleyball tournament, or Zumba. The first two were just not happening. Not that there's anything wrong with these sports but I haven't played either one since gym class a number of years ago and... just no. The third option sounded fun minus the tournament part... I couldn't take the heat. So that left me with either Zumba or actually coming up with something creative (ha. Not happening). Thus the decision was made. Confession: I used to do Zumba at my gym (the fact that I had a gym membership may, in and of itself, be shocking to you. But hey now let's not judge). It was hilarious. But something about it being in German made it even better. Words cannot do it justice. I even got to test out my translating skills for another American there since I'm quite certain watching the girl on the stage wasn't enough.
"Cross. Cross. Cross... Turn... Left... Right." What can I say? I got mad German skills.

I'm not sayin'; I'm just sayin.'.

Roadtrip!

I took a wee roadtrip this weekend with some friends. Oh dear. Where to begin? Where to end? Where to go in between. Let's start at my birth. At this time it was made very clear that I am not one for stressful situations. I guess that's where it ends too.

Ok. To fill in a teensy bit more... Our arrival time was SUPER flexible. You'd think that would mean that I had all the time in the world. Wrong. I was meeting my compatriots at the train station and going forth from there. So I worked in the morning and then had to finish preparing myself. There were casualties. I cut my finger at lunch. This injury probably has the highest rate of any in Germany due to the exorbitant amounts of Brötchen being consumed (and therefore sliced directly in the hand). Seeing as I can't even eat Brötchen, I, of course, did it cutting a tomato. I don't want to talk about it. Now that I'm back my wound has magically and instantaneously healed. But what the heck? It would not do so the entire time I was away. Rude. Anyway, by the time I had left my hair looked like Hermione's. It was quite incredible actually. It was as if I could see a clear relationship between stress level and frizz level. And let's just say that relationship was not exactly in my favor. Luckily my friends' train was cancelled, and they had to catch the next one, therefore biding me some time. And quite fortunate that was indeed because we were still there earlier than would have been ideal. So once we were on the road and I had given them the verbal handbook for driving with me, we had a virtually hitchless trip. Which is more than I can say for the return. Minus the man who almost merged into me because he was ILLEGALLY talking on his cel phone. But at least no one was drumming on the steering wheel (I mean with actual drumsticks. And no free hand to, say, steer) as I've seen in Utah.

I'm not sayin'; I'm just sayin'.

There's only one Schwa...

My little brother needed some help learning some music. Thank goodness for skype. One song was in German so I helped him with the pronunciation. The other song I told him he'd be fine with since it's in English. Then I looked at the music and ate my words a little. The English wasn't even real English. Luckily there were pronunciation keys to some of the words. Anyway, I looked at one that said the following:

Kilvarnet -- Kihl-VAHR-nuht; the "uh" sound is the neutral, unaccented schwa.

This is where I ask for the name of your phonetician. I'm very sorry to tell you this, but there is no other kind of schwa. If it's not neutral and unaccented then it ceases to be a schwa. That's all there is to it. Anyone reading that little note either (1) knows what schwa means, therefore rendering the adjectives completely superfluous or (2) doesn't know what it means and will simply disregard it on account of its having too many consonants in a row.

I'm not sayin'; I'm just sayin'.

Russo-Deutsch

I haven’t really said much lately about my exploits in the German language. This is a slow yet steady progression. So, I spend some time with a group of people who are primarily Russian. I would love to learn Russian; however, I think it best that, for now, I focus my attention on the language of the country I’m in. Perhaps. Normally these people speak German and I can keep up with what’s going on (as for responding… well that’s another story). Anyway, this past week the group was a little more condensed than usual and I thought… well I don’t really know what I thought/expected. But suddenly I found myself unable to understand them. I thought:

Is my German getting worse?

Does everyone else dumb things down more for me?

Are their accents thicker than I thought?

What language have I been learning?

Are they even speaking German?

So I wrestled with these thoughts for the first day. I swear I heard some German words in there every once in a while. Mostly I was just confused. The second day one girl (whose dad is Russian but has lived in Germany for I don’t know how long) said (in German) “Hey. German please.” Bahahaha. Her dad kind of rolled his eyes and said “Kid,” but I felt TOTALLY validated. They were speaking Russian. See. I know my German. Ha.

I’m not sayin’; I’m just sayin’.

The open book that is called my face