Meine Prufung

Some of you have asked what do with myself all day. I assure you, I am not laying around the whole time watching Soaps and eating bon-bons. (Mostly because I can’t get Soaps over here. Or bon-bons.) Actually, I’ve been taking an Intensive German class for 4 hours everyday. And that, my friends, is a lot of German. Mind you, not enough really to know what I’m saying, but just enough to get into trouble. So after 6 months of study, I take a rather large exam on Saturday to prove to the government that I can speak basic German. The test consists of a reading/comprehension section, a listening test, a written part, and an oral exam, taking up most of my day on Saturday. (And wouldn’t you know, it’s supposed to be beautiful!)

I thought in honor of my test (actually to postpone studying) I’d offer up a few of the stages that one goes through on the quest to learn another language. This list is by no means complete. Any of you are invited to add to it, as I’m sure I will as I travel down this road.

• The “Wee! Won’t this be Great Fun to Speak Another Language” Stage:
  Beware. This one is very short lived. It lasts just until you set foot in your foreign country of choice.
• The “Oh Dear God, What Have We Gotten Ourselves Into” Stage:
  Closely follows the aforementioned “Weee! Stage”
• The “Ok, There Are Stupider (no, that’s not a word) People Than Me Who Speak Multiple Languages” Stage:
  Very important as your build up your self-esteem for the fight that will ensue.
• The “You’ve Got to Be Kidding Me” Stage:
  Where you find yourself asking: How many words does this stupid language have? And why did they let a schizophrenic invent the grammar rules?
• The “Filter” Stage:
  Using selective hearing to only understand the words you already know. The rest just washes through.
• The "Ass-Outta-You-And-Me” Stage:
  Understanding 1 out of 10 words, then assuming you know what’s going on.
• The "Whoops, I’m So Sorry” Stage:
  Usually follows shortly thereafter.

That’s about as far as I’ve gotten. Okay—must study. I just need to pass, right? No need to nail it to the wall. After all, in the words of the very wise Brian Curran, “C’s get Degrees.”

Train Spotting

I am leaving my profession of teaching dance in favor of turning my favorite past-time into a full-time career. People watching. I have often enjoyed the airport for this reason. But now that the non-traveling public can no longer go to the gates, it’s not as good. Disappointment. I’ve been continually searching for new avenues. Coffee shops. Late-night Steak-n-Shake. Theatre cast parties. So over here, naturally, I'm ever on the same quest. I believe I've found my new venue. Let me offer up...Train Stations.

Here's just a taste of what my world looks like:

People going to work with briefcases and seriously furrowed brows. Teenagers dressed in the grungy-funk thing with tight black jeans and bright white chucks heading to Gymnasium (high school.) Lovers of all ages saying tearful goodbyes. Athletes with their bikes slung over their shoulders. Old, weathered women carrying baskets with truly strange things sticking out. (Germans love baskets.) Completely worn out mommies with screaming children attempting to get the giant kinderwagen (stroller) onto the train.

But hands down, what do I find most interesting? Nuns. I see one everyday, I’m not kidding. (Hmmm, is God trying to tell me something? Speak louder…I can’t understand German!) Being a nice protestant girl from the Midwest, I am completely fascinated. Where are they going? And actually where have they been? How does someone choose to be a nun? And once you do, what does your life hold? (Do nuns gossip?) I actually don’t believe I’ve seen the same sister twice. So why in the land of Martin Luther are there so many nuns?

I’ve seen many in the train station coming and going. I’ve passed a few on the street in the Old Town. On the train the other day, a very nice sister helped me with my German homework. Yesterday, actually I saw one recycling.

But, do you know what interests me most, and this is just ridiculous. Their shoes. (This says so much about me as a person, doesn’t it.) All of the sisters I’ve recently seen have the black habit and headpiece, but a very different choice in shoes. So I got to wondering why and realized, it’s only shoes that differentiate them from the rest of the flock. Wonder where they shop…

Just a normal weekend in...SWEDEN!

A couple weeks ago on a normal Wednesday evening, Kristi, Tim and I were sitting around our dinner table chatting about Godknowswhat when Tim happened to mention that Luftansa was having some sort of a sale. My first question: Do airlines have sales?!? Followed shortly by the second question: Where are we going? Kristi has been looking for a way to fly her husband over here in May, so out came the laptop amidst the chicken-salad-sammies and my nerd husband began doing his thing. Unfortunately for Rick (Kristi’s hubby) we came up short on transatlantic travel. But…we happened to stumble upon some good European deals. Dublin, Scandinavia, Beijing…(yes, I realize Beijing is not in Europe.) In short, on a Wednesday evening at 9:30pm we booked ourselves a nice little weekend va-ca to Stockholm leaving just two days later. These are the days when I love, love, LOVE living in Europe.

Ah, Sweden, home of such greats as Abba, Pippi Longstocking, Swedish Meatballs and one of the largest grossing companies: IKEA. Side note: I hate Ikea. Yes, I did furnish my entire Chicago apartment post college with this build-it-yourself furniture. But the fact that they traipse me all around the store through the Kinder department and bedroom sets when all I really want is a picture frame makes me avoid it like the dentist’s office.

Stockholm is just beautiful. It's been called the “Venice of the North” due to all the canals and water that have made it an important port city. For us, we thought it was kinda New England meets Munich—with a little water splashed on top. The three of us had a wonderful weekend. Had a beautiful little hotel, complete with a very helpful receptionist. We got in Friday in time to wander the old town and find dinner. Saturday we followed a Harbor tour that was in Kristi’s guidebook. (Travel tip, oh what number are we on now, 6? Get a good guidebook for any adventure. You see so much more.) Then we ended up at the Vasa Museum, which might just be the coolest museum ever.

A little bit of history: The 'Vasa' was a Swedish warship built in 1628 that sunk on her maiden voyage due to improper counterweighting. (Whoops. Can't imagine that went well for the engineers.) Anyway, they didn't have the technology at the time to bring her back up to the surface, so she sat at the bottom of the Stockholm Bay for something like 333 years. Because the water is a combination of sweet and saltwater, she was almost completely preserved. Fast forward to 1962 when she was rediscovered and raised again to the surface. Not to mention painstakingly restored. I believe nearly 90% of the boat on display today is original. I'll add some pictures here soon to give it some justice, but looks like one of the boats from Pirates of the Caribbean.

Sunday, we took most of the day to see the folk, open-air museum, which shows the homes of the Swedish people through the last couple hundred years. Then had time to swing through the Nobel Museum (Alfred Nobel lived here) before we flew home.

You know, just your normal, standard, everyday weekend.

Keeping It Real

I realize that my last entry about my mom and cooking was pretty sappy. Although I had some positive feedback from the women in my life, it seems the men were not so pleased. I received this from one of my high school friends. And I quote, “Mrs. Klaus, your last blog post was so intensely cheesy that I needed to take a nap after reading. Seriously. But I enjoyed it nonetheless” he added, diplomatically. “I want to hear more comical fish-out-of-water, HSK, a stranger-in-a-strange land stories. Less Little Women and more Lost in Translation.”

Thank you Andrew for dowsing me in cold water to bring me out of my funk. It was pretty bad, huh. I’ll see what I can do. Lord knows I do something ridiculous everyday.

Canary Island Getaway