Yesterday evening around 7 o'clock I was walking to the grocery store when as I walked past this little kids cafe (side note--we live in Prenzlauer Berg in Berlin, which has the highest birth rate in all of Europe, and there are more young parents and kids in strollers and on little kid bikes than anywhere I have ever seen...and the businesses are totally geared towards parents, including cafes with playareas for kids while the parents sit around chatting drinking coffee) and this little boy maybe four years old walks out, peers up at the sky--blue, without a cloud to be seen, and the weather is really hot--and declares, "I think it's going to rain tonight!"
"You think?" I ask him. "I don't think so."
"Maybe!" he says, enunciating each syllable of the word slowly and shrugging his shoulders while tipping his head to one side. "Maybe!"
"I guess we'll see," I said, and continuing on my way.
"You never know!" the little boy called out at me down the street. "You just never know!"
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Saturday, May 24, 2008
Finding Family in Niederaula
Last week we spent in Marburg. I have a relative who lives not too far from there in Niederaula, a small town in rural Hessen. He met my grandparents back in 1980, and two of my cousins in the 1990s. When he was a little boy in the 1950s, he met my great grandparents when they came to Germany for a visit. Now it was my turn.Wolfgang and Doris welcomed us into their home and introduced us to all their family. They are so nice, and they were really excited to meet us. I have to admit that I was a little bit nervous to meet them because they were basically just strangers who had met my family years ago. But it turns out that they are in contact with some other people in my family via email.
Wolfgang keeps four giant German hares. When they are full grown, they are about one meter long! They were huge already at six months, and their ears were so long and perky!
Wolfgang drove us through the town where the original man who emigrated to the United States, and from whom both of us are decended, came from. The little village of Bieben is today not much more than a main street with a few side streets. Back in 1856 young Johannes Kranning left Bieben at age eighteen to try his luck in America. He eventually settled near Peru, Indiana, married, and had five children. Five generations and 120 years later, I came into the picture!
Although contact for many years between the families in Germany and the USA had been lost, both families knew that there was family on the other side of the ocean. Then after WWII, my great-grandparents somehow got in touch with the distant relatives and came for a visit. Ever since then, there has been steady contact. It feels very special to be able to continue that.I met Wolfgang's granddaughter and grandson. Maybe somehow we will keep in touch and contact can continue.
In this picture Wolfgang and I are standing in front of a house in a town near Bieben called Breitenbach, where an aunt of Wolfgang's used to live and in front of which there are pictures of my great-grandparents back in the 1950s.
Friday, April 11, 2008
Zugspitze
Over Easter vacation Megan and I spent a week in the Bavarian Alps on the border with Austria. We spent two days hiking through the mountains, one day in Innsbruck, and another day in Munich. It was such a nice trip and a beautiful area. We stayed in a small vacation apartment run by a very nice old lady. She even gave us some homemade cake one day!Well, the area was just so nice that I wanted to post a picture from our trip. This is looking north toward the Zugspitze, the highest point in Germany.
One missed job opportunity
I ran across an ad the other day while searching through some possible translation job opportunities. I really should have replied. This is what it said:
Basically I am writing personal letters in English to a friend in Germany. The letters are only a few hundred words each and I write clearly. The scope of this particular project is just one letter for the time being. More work might ensue later. I need someone who speaks fluent German and is able to understand the subtleties of personal male-to-female communication! Can pay Escrow if required. Thanks.
On the other hand, maybe it's best that I didn't respond. Who knows what might have come up in those letters!
Basically I am writing personal letters in English to a friend in Germany. The letters are only a few hundred words each and I write clearly. The scope of this particular project is just one letter for the time being. More work might ensue later. I need someone who speaks fluent German and is able to understand the subtleties of personal male-to-female communication! Can pay Escrow if required. Thanks.
On the other hand, maybe it's best that I didn't respond. Who knows what might have come up in those letters!
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Shock and Awe
This afternoon I had a twelfth grade English class. The first time to be with this group, and the regular teacher is out sick. Has been for the past week. So in order to keep the class moving and not have to let it be cancelled, I and two other teachers are sharing teaching duties. Which means no continuity.
That reared its head this afternoon. The head teacher asked me to give them an assignment from a workbook to do in class. This I did, but it turned out to be much too easy for them. Unfortunately, that was the only material I really had with me. There was some grumbling going on over on the right side of the classroom. Not a whole lot of concentration going on. Even some snide, under the breath comments about how this was entirely below them (probably true, but still, it could be said in a more friendly way). So I had to get things under control.
There seemed only one way out. Overwhelming use of English. Shock and awe.
They'll have to concentrate to be able to keep up. But any break on my part is just an invitation for a side conversation to break out.
So I decided to open with politics. Making use of as many "big" words as possible, I dove right in....
I carried the day.
That reared its head this afternoon. The head teacher asked me to give them an assignment from a workbook to do in class. This I did, but it turned out to be much too easy for them. Unfortunately, that was the only material I really had with me. There was some grumbling going on over on the right side of the classroom. Not a whole lot of concentration going on. Even some snide, under the breath comments about how this was entirely below them (probably true, but still, it could be said in a more friendly way). So I had to get things under control.
There seemed only one way out. Overwhelming use of English. Shock and awe.
They'll have to concentrate to be able to keep up. But any break on my part is just an invitation for a side conversation to break out.
So I decided to open with politics. Making use of as many "big" words as possible, I dove right in....
I carried the day.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
A Park Bench Lesson
So there we were last Saturday afternoon, sitting on a bench in the park drinking coffee, enjoying the February sun, comfortably engaged in one of humanity's favorite pastimes: complaining.
It's easy to fall prey to.
"Here we are in Berlin, Megan," I said, "guests in Germany for an entire year, asked to come here to help teach their young people how to talk English. And what's the problem? We're paid a grant of just 700 euros a month, assigned a job in a school for twelve hours a week with no responsibility. And our visas won't allow us to even do any work to earn anything more. As a matter of fact, they even say we're not supposed to study at the university, although many assistant teachers don't seem to have taken that directive to heart."
"It's sort of like the annoying little thing that gets in the way of all the nothing you can afford to do," Megan nodded.
"We could be back in the US making money, putting something away for retirement right now, living in our own apartment, but instead we're over here confined in a rigid German system that permits us little economic incentive. It's a job with too little time, too little responsibility, and above all, too little money. I saw a posting for an internship here that pays 1800 Euros a month. 600 Euros goes to taxes, 600 go to provided housing, and you keep 600 each month for the rest of your expenses. That seems like a much better deal than what we've got here."
"And on top of all this, the good folks in the German immigration office wouldn't even grant an extra week at the end of the grant period before our visas expire," Megan added. "Your grant ends on June 30, but you are also always paid at the end of the month, so your last payment is also on June 30. But flights home cost hundreds of dollars less on Jund 29, so we're leaving before your last payment. Somehow we have to deal with that. If we could just have an extra seven days or so one our visas, there would be no problem."
"Sometimes Germans just really get on my nerves," I said. "Just open up a little bit, be a little bit more flexible and considerate," I said, swallowing the last of my coffee.
We both looked out into the park at all the people lit up by sunlight filtering through the trees overhead. A long sigh escaped from my chest. I looked over to my left to see a man coming our way, stopping at the neighboring bench to bend down and offer its inhabitants, another young couple, some chocolate from a box. Now he's heading to our bench next.
"Would you like some chocolate?" he asked with a friendly smile, extending a small box towards us.
"Just because?" I asked.
"Just because! Enjoy!"
With a 'Thank you' Megan and I each took a piece. "It's my second favorite kind of chocolate!" Megan exclaimed.
After the man had left and was heading for the next bench, Megan laughed. "Here we are, complaining about Germany and the people who live here, and look what happens! Maybe someone is trying to tell us something!"
"You're right, Megan," I admitted. "We've met lots of good people here, seen some amazing things and had unique experiences here. Let's always keep that in mind when we're not exactly satisfied."
And with that, we stood up and strolled off into that bright February afternoon.
It's easy to fall prey to.
"Here we are in Berlin, Megan," I said, "guests in Germany for an entire year, asked to come here to help teach their young people how to talk English. And what's the problem? We're paid a grant of just 700 euros a month, assigned a job in a school for twelve hours a week with no responsibility. And our visas won't allow us to even do any work to earn anything more. As a matter of fact, they even say we're not supposed to study at the university, although many assistant teachers don't seem to have taken that directive to heart."
"It's sort of like the annoying little thing that gets in the way of all the nothing you can afford to do," Megan nodded.
"We could be back in the US making money, putting something away for retirement right now, living in our own apartment, but instead we're over here confined in a rigid German system that permits us little economic incentive. It's a job with too little time, too little responsibility, and above all, too little money. I saw a posting for an internship here that pays 1800 Euros a month. 600 Euros goes to taxes, 600 go to provided housing, and you keep 600 each month for the rest of your expenses. That seems like a much better deal than what we've got here."
"And on top of all this, the good folks in the German immigration office wouldn't even grant an extra week at the end of the grant period before our visas expire," Megan added. "Your grant ends on June 30, but you are also always paid at the end of the month, so your last payment is also on June 30. But flights home cost hundreds of dollars less on Jund 29, so we're leaving before your last payment. Somehow we have to deal with that. If we could just have an extra seven days or so one our visas, there would be no problem."
"Sometimes Germans just really get on my nerves," I said. "Just open up a little bit, be a little bit more flexible and considerate," I said, swallowing the last of my coffee.
We both looked out into the park at all the people lit up by sunlight filtering through the trees overhead. A long sigh escaped from my chest. I looked over to my left to see a man coming our way, stopping at the neighboring bench to bend down and offer its inhabitants, another young couple, some chocolate from a box. Now he's heading to our bench next.
"Would you like some chocolate?" he asked with a friendly smile, extending a small box towards us.
"Just because?" I asked.
"Just because! Enjoy!"
With a 'Thank you' Megan and I each took a piece. "It's my second favorite kind of chocolate!" Megan exclaimed.
After the man had left and was heading for the next bench, Megan laughed. "Here we are, complaining about Germany and the people who live here, and look what happens! Maybe someone is trying to tell us something!"
"You're right, Megan," I admitted. "We've met lots of good people here, seen some amazing things and had unique experiences here. Let's always keep that in mind when we're not exactly satisfied."
And with that, we stood up and strolled off into that bright February afternoon.
Saturday, February 23, 2008
The Supermarket
Well, it's been a while. But recent events nearly force me to write about an entirely German experience: going to the supermarket.
If you thought that Germans maintain a civil society, you're right. Unless they're grocery shopping. Then anything goes. The past couple times I was at the grocery store, events happened that I can no longer keep bottled up! Sharing is cleansing.
Browsing the shelves at the local Berlin supermarket, I pause at the chips. Corn chips, a (expensive) rarity in a country an ocean away from their origin. I already have guacamole at home. Now just some chips to go with them. But should I get them here? I know they're cheaper at another store. But guacamole will go bad, and mine is already opened, and tomorrow is Sunday: supermarkets closed. It's now or nev--...Monday. Well, just how big is this bag of chips? Looks can be deceiving. I move closer to the chips, abandonding my position on the opposite side of the aisle, where I had been standing at an appropriate distance so that others could pass by if they wished.
Hmm, this bag of chips is actually much smaller than it looks. I think I will just wait til Monday. As I am setting the bag back on the shelf, a woman approaches from the left side, brushes against me, and silently reaches in front of me with her right hand to grab a bag of barbeque chips on my right. !!! A thought flashes through my head. I'll just follow her until she stops to pick something up off the shelf, then I'll run up and grab something on the other side of her! But not today.
There's only one checkout line open when I'm ready to go. So, I line up behind the folks in front of me. There must already by five or six in line, and I'm well behind the "aisle" at the check-out line, sort of floating out in that nebulous space behind the registers. But there's already six or seven people lined up behind me now, too.
Suddenly there's another associate at the neighboring register. She calls, "I can help you over here!" I start to slide over to the next aisle when out of the corner of my eye I catch movement. Eyes wide with adrenaline, mouth gasping for oxygen, a woman TWO PLACES IN LINE BEHIND ME is crouched low over her cart and careening for the first place in the newly opened line. I never saw a cart swing around like that! Before anyone even had the chance to gasp, she was at the front of the line, the next three customers in line behind her filing up right after her. Move over, Andretti! Watch out, Jeff Gordon! Now we know how Michael Shumacher reached the top of the Formula One world!
At the orientation session last fall, we were told that Germans have a special way of "queing," as the Brits put it. I guess I've seen it. Some things, I think, I'll just never get used to.
If you thought that Germans maintain a civil society, you're right. Unless they're grocery shopping. Then anything goes. The past couple times I was at the grocery store, events happened that I can no longer keep bottled up! Sharing is cleansing.
Browsing the shelves at the local Berlin supermarket, I pause at the chips. Corn chips, a (expensive) rarity in a country an ocean away from their origin. I already have guacamole at home. Now just some chips to go with them. But should I get them here? I know they're cheaper at another store. But guacamole will go bad, and mine is already opened, and tomorrow is Sunday: supermarkets closed. It's now or nev--...Monday. Well, just how big is this bag of chips? Looks can be deceiving. I move closer to the chips, abandonding my position on the opposite side of the aisle, where I had been standing at an appropriate distance so that others could pass by if they wished.
Hmm, this bag of chips is actually much smaller than it looks. I think I will just wait til Monday. As I am setting the bag back on the shelf, a woman approaches from the left side, brushes against me, and silently reaches in front of me with her right hand to grab a bag of barbeque chips on my right. !!! A thought flashes through my head. I'll just follow her until she stops to pick something up off the shelf, then I'll run up and grab something on the other side of her! But not today.
There's only one checkout line open when I'm ready to go. So, I line up behind the folks in front of me. There must already by five or six in line, and I'm well behind the "aisle" at the check-out line, sort of floating out in that nebulous space behind the registers. But there's already six or seven people lined up behind me now, too.
Suddenly there's another associate at the neighboring register. She calls, "I can help you over here!" I start to slide over to the next aisle when out of the corner of my eye I catch movement. Eyes wide with adrenaline, mouth gasping for oxygen, a woman TWO PLACES IN LINE BEHIND ME is crouched low over her cart and careening for the first place in the newly opened line. I never saw a cart swing around like that! Before anyone even had the chance to gasp, she was at the front of the line, the next three customers in line behind her filing up right after her. Move over, Andretti! Watch out, Jeff Gordon! Now we know how Michael Shumacher reached the top of the Formula One world!
At the orientation session last fall, we were told that Germans have a special way of "queing," as the Brits put it. I guess I've seen it. Some things, I think, I'll just never get used to.
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