Must now unpack nearly all my clothes and transfer them into new suitcase.
Other suitcase is only loosely packed. That is, I've just thrown stuff in it: shoes, some clothes, candy, chocolate, books.
19:44
New suitcase packed.
Other suitcase has pants and boots in it.
Am now mid-organizing and preparing for the next move. Going through the remaining contents of my room. Whatever I'm taking goes on my bed. The rest goes in the hallway, kitchen, or garbage (or recycling).
I'm feeling productive. Seeing where I was at 6 hours ago compared to now doesn't make me feel like I've made much progress though.
Oh well!
Weiter geht's...
0:05
I'm exhausted. I'm not even done yet. Still organizing and clearing out.
Though I've taken a couple breaks in between obviously, to eat and whatnot.
At least I got my load of laundry in (all the machines were in use all evening, until 10pm finally). Mr. Rack is attending to his duties.
Now considering a half hour nap...
Or making the piles on my bed and desk a little less scary...
Tuesday, August 18th
22:09
One suitcase completely packed.
Other suitcase almost completely packed.
Backpack almost completely packed.
Carry-on suitcase almost completely packed.
Window washed, laundry done, sink cleaned.
Nothing sold.
Still to do: finish packing, sweep and clean floor, put unsold stuff in the hallway.
23:02
My room looks so empty all of a sudden!
Packing doesn't seem AS intimidating as it did an hour ago.
Canada flag is down. It's sad. Now it's for real. Not my room anymore.
0:19
I'm officially qualified to sing that song everybody sings when their bags are packed and ready to go! Well, I just need to reorganize my backpack. But everything I need is in it! Just not necessarily in logical places. Yet.
My room now looks very very similar to when I moved in, which seems both so long ago and then again, not. (That's always the deal.)
I wonder who will take the sheet music I left in the living room. Hopefully someone who likes the Beatles (which turns out to be the best packing-music, by the way!) and Christmas carols...
I'm going to take a little break now. Then I'll finish up the last couple things before I go to bed.
I visited my great-grandmother this week, in the little city where she's lived her whole life (98 years). Just like last week, we had a really nice time together, though this time she kept me a bit more busy with shopping and errands and cleaning and cooking--all of which I was more than happy to do, of course! In between she told me lots of stories, like usual. My Oma's a great story teller, I love listening to her.
As we finished eating our dinner (something with potatoes, no doubt), she fell a little quiet, so I thought I'd try prompting her to do some reminiscing and was really surprised at what...well, here's how it went.
Me: Oma, did you ever go to Bavaria? Her: Bavaria? Of course! I've been all over! Me: What did you do there? Her: I danced! Me: Ahaa! I've danced in Bavaria too!* Her: Yeah, we went dancing. [sings a song that they must have danced to]...Yeah, it was nice, we had a lot of fun... Me: Can you understand Bavarian? Me, I can't understand it at all. [The dialect they have there is crazy.**] Her: What, like that Plattdeutsch? (Komm' mal rueber, ich will dir was sagen!) Me: [DEER IN HEADLIGHTS]
Then my jaw just dropped and I absolutely laughed my head off.
Her: Did you understand? Me: [Still laughing] Nope! Her: "Come over here, I want to tell you something." Me: Ohhhhhhh! [Still laughing] Oma, you're awesome.
Then she laughed at how amused I was, quoted some Bavarian a couple more times for fun, and went on to tell me another story (which one it was, I can't quite remember exactly).
*The instances of when I danced in Bavaria: at Oktoberfest and afterwards at a sports bar in Munich; and in Würzburg, at and after the Deichkind concert)
**I figured the Bavarian dialect needed a little bit of explaining, so I found some links so that y'all can hear the differences between High German (what I learn) and Bavarian. English High German Bavarian
UZH, ("ooh-tsett-hah") or Ulrich Zasius Haus, is the name of my student res building here in Freiburg. Here's a list of the personalities I've encountered while living in my dorm.
1. Herbert
One of the first UZH characters to make his presence known. He is what made the annoying gurgling sound in April's mini-fridge all the time.
2. Bug Girl
I heard about a girl on the ninth floor who keeps a bunch of bugs, like walking sticks, as pets in her room. Technically that's not allowed, but it doesn't really bother anyone, so whatever.
3. The Creeper
It seems that there's always a creeper, no matter where you go. Everyone warned everyone about this guy, and luckily I had the pleasure of meeting him only once. He lives on the 11th floor, and when April first arrived here, that's where she lived too. Apparently he always tries to get English-speaking girls to help him edit his letters or essays or whatever, and just makes people very uncomfortable in general. For example, when April first met him in their common kitchen, he introduced himself and as she reached for a handshake, he pulled her into a big icky hug. Then offered her some grapes, while he rubbed his belly. Then tried to give her a hug-goodbye, but she resisted and said, uhhh we don't really do that in Canada...
Haven't seen him or heard of him for a really long time now.
4. Intense African Guy
This guy tried to have a deep conversation with me at April's floor dinner (the one with the Kirschwasser) and seemed to think I didn't talk enough (seriously??....) and should learn to be open. Then he started going on and on about world politics and health care and society, except...somehow none of it made any sense. And then he just kept saying I should learn to "be free." It was so odd and really uncomfortable. It was like running through mud, trying to get out of this conversation. Avoided him like the Plague until he moved back home.
5. Housecoat Girl
This girl was from Russia and lived on my floor during first semester. She was always, always wearing her blue housecoat. I saw her in normal casual clothes probably about 4 times within 7 months.
6. Texas Girl
She's from Texas (duh), but also has a strong connection to her German heritage. One time I was in the kitchen washing my dishes and she was talking to another floormate, who was from India. He said he'd been watching American news and was confused about to whom they were referring when they said "Native Americans". "Because you are a native American, aren't you?" And Texas girl said, well, yes, but they're really talking about the Indians, you know?...Which he didn't understand because he's Indian. Obviously. So Texas girl tried to explain, "they meant the people who live in teepees, the natives, the, umm...the--the red men!" I kid you not. So I looked over and said, "the Aboriginal peoples?" And the Indian guy was like, "Ohhhhhh!"
7. Mr. Rack
Oh, Mr. Rack. (Don't worry, there aren't anymore inanimate objects on the list.) This is my laundry rack that I found abandoned in the stairwell. He was broken, but was still able to stand, although only very slanted. But I needed a free laundry rack, so this was perfect. I needed him and he needed me! That's how I got my lopsided rack.
8. Fake Irish Guy
This guy's story is a little long, so bear with me. When I first met him, he was eating spaghetti with his friend, with whom he was speaking German. His German was really good, though I thought he had a bit of a dialect, maybe from the south. After his friend left, the two of us were doing dishes so we chatted a bit about beer and Jägermeister, and he told me his name (which is not a typical German name) and that he was from Michigan.
Another time, he and his friend were both in the kitchen again, but this time Fake Irish Guy was speaking English. But with what sounded like an Irish accent. When I told April about it later, we developed a couple of theories. Maybe he was German but lived in Michigan, but studied in Ireland for a while and ended up picking up the accent there. Or maybe he was Irish and just happened to speak really good German and studied in the States. Or maybe he was actually American and was just speaking in an Irish accent just for fun... (Hence, our new nickname for him, Fake Irish Guy.)
Another time, April was in my kitchen and said that Fake Irish Guy asked her if she'd ever tried an Irish coffee before, and if she could tell him if the coffee he made tasted right. (It did.)
I heard him speaking English a few more times, but not with an Irish OR a German accent, but with an American one. And he was saying to someone that he hadn't practiced much German that week. Later he asked me if I knew the German word for "vegetable peeler" (der Schäler).
So, the mystery ended up being solved. Fake Irish Guy is American, from Michigan, in Freiburg studying German, and can do a pretty good Irish accent. We became buds, quasi.
9. Bruce and Jimbo
A few new people moved in on our floor when second semester rolled around, two of which are Chinese, Lee and...I can't remember what his name is!
And neither could the two Americans (Texas girl and Fake Irish Guy). Which is why they decided to rename both Chinese guys. Lee is also known as Bruce. Because of Bruce Lee, obviously. And the other guy is also known as Jimbo. Because his actual name sounds slightly similar. I used to know his actual name, but since they started referring to him as Jimbo I completely forgot.
10. That One Construction Worker
From October until the end of May (or was it June?), there was construction in our building, since it needed new pipes put in (they hadn't been renewed since the 1960s or something like this). So starting at 7am until about 4pm every single weekday (almost) we all put up with an unbelievable amount of noise that made us super cranky, but with good reason, seeing as we could hardly hear ourselves think or each other talk, let alone get a good sleep. Just remembering it now makes it difficult to describe without just...swearing. A lot. (Anyone who wrote a complaint to Studentenwerk--the student office, which is in charge of the residences--got a month of free rent. This allowed me to afford to go to Amsterdam. I guess the noise thing was kinda worth putting up with then.)
ANYWAY.
There was this one construction worker that we all saw fairly regularly. He spoke with a very strong dialect (I could not understand a single word), and always teased Mike (from Toronto) when he saw him. Once April saw the construction worker in the elevator, and he was talking away to her, and all she understood was "Fussball".
Yesterday I met a student from Freiburg who's going to be studying in Winnipeg this year, and she's agreed to be my tandem partner! That is, we can both practice our languages, my German and her English. This is really great because there isn't a tandem partner program at U of M, and I won't be taking German until second semester, so without the practice my German would get very rusty very quickly, which would make me... a saaad panda. But have no fear, we have a plan! To speak and, in turn, keep everyone in good spirits!
Obviously, she had lots of questions about Winnipeg for me and Warren (fellow Winnipegger). We tried really hard to think of as many nice or exciting (or even slightly exciting) things as we could for her to look forward to. I think we did a good job. We left her feeling very curious, and found ourselves a bit nostalgic.
In other important news!
I just made myself a Schwarzwälder (Black Forest) Mocha. That is, half coffee, half hot chocolate, and a couple shots of Kirschwasser--literally translated: cherry water. Or more accurately, cherry liquor. On its own, Kirschwasser ("Keersh-vahssa", with a tiny slightly rolled "r" sound at the end) is absolutely foul stuff. This is my opinion, and also the opinion of many many others; except for old people, apparently.
Around last fall, the people on April's (fellow Winnipegger, & BFF!) floor had a farewell dinner for one of the students that was moving away. And as a gag gift, they all gave him a bottle of Kirschwasser. Because it's awful and only old people actually drink it. (Or it's used in baking, which is delicious.) Everyone had a good laugh about it, and then decided that we should all have some shots. Obviously, April and I had no idea how gross this stuff was, so we tried it. And we tried it once more just to make sure it really was as awful as the first shot. It was. At least got us talking with some German-speakers! And a Polish-speaker, too, if I remember correctly.
Another little anecdote about Kirschwasser: A few months later, April and Warren decided to have a sort of German-off. They both promised to speak, read, listen to, and write in German and only German for a full week. No one was even allowed to speak to them in English because they wouldn't reply. It was actually a pretty cool way to get everyone into the habit and on a roll of speaking German to each other. Even those of us not participating in the German-off spoke auf Deutsch to one another. It was a really fun week, we all felt really good!
Anyway, about the Kirschwasser. For each time one of them spoke, read, listened to, or wrote English, the punishment would be a shot of Kirschwasser. A pretty good incentive, I think. At the end of the week we had a party and April and Warren did their shots. I may be wrong, but I think the score was 11:4. April took her four shots; I don't think Warren took more than five... (Don't quote me on it.) I don't blame him though.
