Okay readers, I am back and it and have lots of things to tell you.
Brian and I just returned from two weeks in the U.S.
I've lived in Germany long enough that when I return to the States, some things seem to pop out (not just beer bellies).
I can appreciate the water towers, the yellow school buses, the front porches, the colorful license plates and the diners. These are the bits of "Americana" that Europeans think is so cool. Just as we would go to Germany looking for Lederhosen and castles, they'd get just as excited about a truck stop and a picket fence. For a little while, I get excited about those things too.
But it only takes a few days before I am no longer surprised when a stranger calls me 'hon.' And, pretty quickly, a 24 oz soda really doesn't look that big. It doesn't seem odd to drive six blocks rather than walk, or to say thank-you to the driver as I get off the bus. On the day we flew back, I dressed for the flight in a sweatshirt, stretchy leggings and running shoes. I had gone native.
Friday, October 28, 2016
Wednesday, September 21, 2016
Hannover synagogue
A while back, I went on a hunt for a place that is no longer there.
Hannover's main synagogue stood in Calenberger-Neustadt. The site is just a block from the basilica where we sometimes go to Spanish-language Mass. Catholics and Jews were neighbors in this part of the city for a long time. In 1588, in the midst of the Reformation, both Catholics and Jews were forced to live outside the city walls. This is the neighborhood they formed. And here is the synagogue:
It was burned by the Nazis and their supporters in 1938.
I had heard the story and seen the photos, but had never actually seen the place. Here is what I found:
No wonder I'd missed it before. On the site where the temple once stood is a small stone wall, locked up behind a metal gate. An outline of the synagogue is engraved on the wall with text written in Hebrew. And that's it.
Which brings me back to the question of, how do you memorialize shameful and tragic events? What's the right way to honor a dark past? Unlike the stumbling stones, which are powerful because they are so unavoidable, the site of the synagogue is removed and locked away.
Today there are about 6,000 Jews in Hannover, over a thousand more than in the 1930s. So next I went to find the current synagogue, tucked away in a residential area near the veterinary school.
It looks pretty normal except for the locked metal gates in front. The Jewish school and synagogue I saw in Hamburg had not only gates, but also armed guards standing outside.
Maybe the Hannover memorial is understated and locked up so that it doesn't attract vandalism.
It's amazing to think that Jewish landmarks still need that kind of protection. It seems like bad guys have different targets these days...
Hannover's main synagogue stood in Calenberger-Neustadt. The site is just a block from the basilica where we sometimes go to Spanish-language Mass. Catholics and Jews were neighbors in this part of the city for a long time. In 1588, in the midst of the Reformation, both Catholics and Jews were forced to live outside the city walls. This is the neighborhood they formed. And here is the synagogue:
It was burned by the Nazis and their supporters in 1938.
I had heard the story and seen the photos, but had never actually seen the place. Here is what I found:
No wonder I'd missed it before. On the site where the temple once stood is a small stone wall, locked up behind a metal gate. An outline of the synagogue is engraved on the wall with text written in Hebrew. And that's it.
Which brings me back to the question of, how do you memorialize shameful and tragic events? What's the right way to honor a dark past? Unlike the stumbling stones, which are powerful because they are so unavoidable, the site of the synagogue is removed and locked away.
Today there are about 6,000 Jews in Hannover, over a thousand more than in the 1930s. So next I went to find the current synagogue, tucked away in a residential area near the veterinary school.
It looks pretty normal except for the locked metal gates in front. The Jewish school and synagogue I saw in Hamburg had not only gates, but also armed guards standing outside.
Maybe the Hannover memorial is understated and locked up so that it doesn't attract vandalism.
It's amazing to think that Jewish landmarks still need that kind of protection. It seems like bad guys have different targets these days...
Tuesday, September 13, 2016
Garden-sitting
I spent Sunday afternoon in the backyard. Except it wasn't my backyard. In fact, there is no house attached to it at all. I was at Andrew and Katja's Kleingarten. A Kleingarten is a bit of green space for city-dwellers, and has been a feature of German cities since the 19th century. I posted about Kleingartens a while back.
In early episodes of Scrubs, (which was not a profoundly meaningful TV show, but there is a place in my heart for a good sitcom) JD buys a half-acre of land, but doesn't have enough money to build a house on it. He only has a front porch. I feel a little bit like this when I go out to the garden:
Andrew, Katja and 3 year old Juno have moved to the south of Germany, where the sun shines more and the mountains are closer. But the garden still belongs to them. Brian and I are garden-sitting until they sell the place. Sure, we are cutting the grass and picking the tomatoes, but the most important part of garden-sitting is the sitting. We need to make the place look occupied. The garden Kolonie, which sounds like a condo association, has a lot of rules, because it is made up of Germans. One of these rules is that all garden owners must live in Hannover. No vacant lots and no absentee landlords. We need the garden to look lived-in (or sat in) for the next couple of months.
When Andrew and Katja are ready to sell the garden, they will have no trouble finding a buyer. The couple across the path is drooling over it already. They have a garden of their own, but ours (I'll just call it ours for now) is bigger, or better situated, or something like that. So they have been sort of loitering around, awkwardly. They are from East Germany, which automatically makes them a little weird. People from the West consider the Osties to be anything from quirky to socially inept to rednecks or stuck in the 90s.
The day we came to say goodbye to our friends, another couple was checking out the garden. They are both dentists, with one kid and one on the way. Probably the Kolonie would approve of them. Except they are jerks. The day that Andrew and Katja moved, the dentists contacted the Kolonie and started making arrangements to take over the garden. I imagine it will be all the talk at the next board meeting.
I can only hope that the garden neighbors are on that board. Our garden shares a fence with the perfectly manicured lawn of Olli and Susanne. They are in the garden every day - Olli shirtless and trimming the grass with scissors, Susanne in her bikini tending to the flowers. I'd put them in their early 60s and they have become Juno's adopted grandparents. They are very sad to see her go. We made a trade on Sunday - I gave them tomatoes and grapes in exchange for miniature plums called Zwetschgen (Just look at all the consonants in that word and tell me that German is not a hard language). I have not yet asked what they think of the dentists.
Of course, this is not the garden's first brush with drama. Andrew and Katja bought it in partnership with two friends, in a socialist arrangement that Karl Marx would be proud of. But as the East Germans across the way could probably tell you, socialism is a great idea that falls apart eventually. Apparently one of the former comrades, now living in Australia, wants to remove a tree he planted years ago. Who is going to dig it up, and where will they put it? Don't ask me. My job is just to sit there.
In early episodes of Scrubs, (which was not a profoundly meaningful TV show, but there is a place in my heart for a good sitcom) JD buys a half-acre of land, but doesn't have enough money to build a house on it. He only has a front porch. I feel a little bit like this when I go out to the garden:
Andrew, Katja and 3 year old Juno have moved to the south of Germany, where the sun shines more and the mountains are closer. But the garden still belongs to them. Brian and I are garden-sitting until they sell the place. Sure, we are cutting the grass and picking the tomatoes, but the most important part of garden-sitting is the sitting. We need to make the place look occupied. The garden Kolonie, which sounds like a condo association, has a lot of rules, because it is made up of Germans. One of these rules is that all garden owners must live in Hannover. No vacant lots and no absentee landlords. We need the garden to look lived-in (or sat in) for the next couple of months.
When Andrew and Katja are ready to sell the garden, they will have no trouble finding a buyer. The couple across the path is drooling over it already. They have a garden of their own, but ours (I'll just call it ours for now) is bigger, or better situated, or something like that. So they have been sort of loitering around, awkwardly. They are from East Germany, which automatically makes them a little weird. People from the West consider the Osties to be anything from quirky to socially inept to rednecks or stuck in the 90s.
The day we came to say goodbye to our friends, another couple was checking out the garden. They are both dentists, with one kid and one on the way. Probably the Kolonie would approve of them. Except they are jerks. The day that Andrew and Katja moved, the dentists contacted the Kolonie and started making arrangements to take over the garden. I imagine it will be all the talk at the next board meeting.
I can only hope that the garden neighbors are on that board. Our garden shares a fence with the perfectly manicured lawn of Olli and Susanne. They are in the garden every day - Olli shirtless and trimming the grass with scissors, Susanne in her bikini tending to the flowers. I'd put them in their early 60s and they have become Juno's adopted grandparents. They are very sad to see her go. We made a trade on Sunday - I gave them tomatoes and grapes in exchange for miniature plums called Zwetschgen (Just look at all the consonants in that word and tell me that German is not a hard language). I have not yet asked what they think of the dentists.
Of course, this is not the garden's first brush with drama. Andrew and Katja bought it in partnership with two friends, in a socialist arrangement that Karl Marx would be proud of. But as the East Germans across the way could probably tell you, socialism is a great idea that falls apart eventually. Apparently one of the former comrades, now living in Australia, wants to remove a tree he planted years ago. Who is going to dig it up, and where will they put it? Don't ask me. My job is just to sit there.
Saturday, September 3, 2016
Think about it again
In my newest job at the international school, I am the full-time college counselor. Three weeks in, I have much to figure out. I started meeting with each of the 12th grade students to discuss their plans after graduation. The ideas range from studying business at a nearby university to working on a sheep farm in New Zealand for a year. Earlier this week, I met with a student from Ukraine, who made this comment:
"I used to want to go to university in the United States, but not any more."
Why not? I ask.
"It's because of the political situation, especially the current presidential election. And because of the gun laws there."
So a kid from a country caught in a tug-of-war between Europe and Russia, a place where thousands have died in two years of war, does not want to study in our country because it's not safe.
At first this sounds absurd. Everybody wants to come to America, right? That's what we usually think. But think about it again. Anybody who's following the Trump vs. Hillary vs. All-the-people-who-don't-know-what-to-do could say that our political situation is volatile. Those volatile people involved can legally carry handguns in public, and they aren't even the crazy ones. Throw in a little anti-immigrant sentiment and sky-high tuition costs, and you can see why a smart 17 year-old might be turned off.
And I admire that decision. There are plenty of 17 year-olds from anywhere who are choosing schools based on where their friends are going, or how good their parties or football teams are.
So if my Ukrainian student is not interested, then I can't argue. And I didn't. Instead we talked about universities in Canada, the UK and Germany. They all have different application standards and deadlines. I have my work cut out for me. Maybe he'd like to work on a sheep farm instead.
"I used to want to go to university in the United States, but not any more."
Why not? I ask.
"It's because of the political situation, especially the current presidential election. And because of the gun laws there."
So a kid from a country caught in a tug-of-war between Europe and Russia, a place where thousands have died in two years of war, does not want to study in our country because it's not safe.
At first this sounds absurd. Everybody wants to come to America, right? That's what we usually think. But think about it again. Anybody who's following the Trump vs. Hillary vs. All-the-people-who-don't-know-what-to-do could say that our political situation is volatile. Those volatile people involved can legally carry handguns in public, and they aren't even the crazy ones. Throw in a little anti-immigrant sentiment and sky-high tuition costs, and you can see why a smart 17 year-old might be turned off.
And I admire that decision. There are plenty of 17 year-olds from anywhere who are choosing schools based on where their friends are going, or how good their parties or football teams are.
So if my Ukrainian student is not interested, then I can't argue. And I didn't. Instead we talked about universities in Canada, the UK and Germany. They all have different application standards and deadlines. I have my work cut out for me. Maybe he'd like to work on a sheep farm instead.
Saturday, August 27, 2016
Rubber necking
In mid-August, I returned from the land where every day, Donald Trump does something so awful that you can help but pay attention. It's like the whole country is rubber-necking to see just what kind of train wreck he caused this time. We know we shouldn't look but it's just hard not to.
And as so many Americans are excited for/worried about/fascinated by/tired of the drama that is Trump vs. Hilary, the people where I live are pondering whether to vote for this guy.
It's time for the city and regional council elections. Now Frank, who's running to represent my neighborhood, looks like a guy you could vote for. He looks like a guy with no skeletons in his closet and a lot of schnitzel in his fridge.
German election posters like Frank's lack a certain sense of flair. Or maybe they have a certain sense of sincerity. They look like the head shots that Germans are expected to place on top of their resumes (right next to their age and marital status... but don't get me started). After all, Frank is running for office, not for prom king or reality show TV star.
I've written about German elections before, but the contrast with the U.S. presidential election this year is too hard to pass up. With the gawking that Americans deal with, Frank and his straightforward posters are refreshing.
I was getting my teeth cleaned last week when my dental hygenist, who is an immigrant from Kazakhstan, asked me what's going on with our election. What do I think of it all, and will Donald Trump win? She's not the first one who's asked me that question. It puts me in an uncomfortable place, and not just because I was trying to answer while she scraped my teeth. How do you explain (in German, with your mouth open) how somebody like that gets so close to the top? How do you describe the voters he appeals to?
I have tried to do that in other conversations, to explain what I think is happening. It's a tough role to take on, to explain our political situation as the only American in the room. I think more Americans should have to do it. But at the dentist's office I just gave a few vague answers and spit.
And as so many Americans are excited for/worried about/fascinated by/tired of the drama that is Trump vs. Hilary, the people where I live are pondering whether to vote for this guy.
It's time for the city and regional council elections. Now Frank, who's running to represent my neighborhood, looks like a guy you could vote for. He looks like a guy with no skeletons in his closet and a lot of schnitzel in his fridge.
German election posters like Frank's lack a certain sense of flair. Or maybe they have a certain sense of sincerity. They look like the head shots that Germans are expected to place on top of their resumes (right next to their age and marital status... but don't get me started). After all, Frank is running for office, not for prom king or reality show TV star.
I've written about German elections before, but the contrast with the U.S. presidential election this year is too hard to pass up. With the gawking that Americans deal with, Frank and his straightforward posters are refreshing.
I was getting my teeth cleaned last week when my dental hygenist, who is an immigrant from Kazakhstan, asked me what's going on with our election. What do I think of it all, and will Donald Trump win? She's not the first one who's asked me that question. It puts me in an uncomfortable place, and not just because I was trying to answer while she scraped my teeth. How do you explain (in German, with your mouth open) how somebody like that gets so close to the top? How do you describe the voters he appeals to?
I have tried to do that in other conversations, to explain what I think is happening. It's a tough role to take on, to explain our political situation as the only American in the room. I think more Americans should have to do it. But at the dentist's office I just gave a few vague answers and spit.
Saturday, August 13, 2016
Stay tuned
If you have noticed that I shut down (or shut up) for a little while over the summer, you are right. I had a week in northern Spain followed by 2 days at home and then 3 weeks in the US of A. I slept in seven different beds on my Midwestern visit, spent a lot of time with family, a few great days with friends and as much time as possible out on the lake. Everything was wonderful and familiar, except that Brian was not with me. He was pursuing every boy's dream of being alone on the frontier. Except that his frontier was in Central Asia and his cowboy days were filled with pre-teens playing baseball. More on that later.
Now that my tan is fading, and my husband and our domestic bliss will soon return, I am back to the blog. And I'll be back to work on Monday but, as I promised my fans back home, I won't forget about you, dear readers. Stay tuned.
Now that my tan is fading, and my husband and our domestic bliss will soon return, I am back to the blog. And I'll be back to work on Monday but, as I promised my fans back home, I won't forget about you, dear readers. Stay tuned.
Wednesday, July 13, 2016
Play Global has a video
I know I said I'd sign off for a while, but I have one important thing to mention.
A few years ago, Tom Gillespie and I founded a nonprofit organization called Play Global. We use baseball as a way to bring people together. Here's our website: www.play-global.org
and our facebook page: www.facebook/playglobal
I've written a lot about our work on those sites, and occasionally mentioned it in this blog. But now I'm actually able to show you what Play Global is all about.
We are excited to have our very own video. Click on this link to watch:
We need your support! Play Global's work is entirely funded by grants and donations. We are currently raising money to send a coach to South Africa this winter.
Visit our website for more information about Play Global or click here to donate online.
If you like what we are doing, please share the video and web link with your contacts.
Thank you!
A few years ago, Tom Gillespie and I founded a nonprofit organization called Play Global. We use baseball as a way to bring people together. Here's our website: www.play-global.org
and our facebook page: www.facebook/playglobal
I've written a lot about our work on those sites, and occasionally mentioned it in this blog. But now I'm actually able to show you what Play Global is all about.
We are excited to have our very own video. Click on this link to watch:
We need your support! Play Global's work is entirely funded by grants and donations. We are currently raising money to send a coach to South Africa this winter.
Visit our website for more information about Play Global or click here to donate online.
If you like what we are doing, please share the video and web link with your contacts.
Thank you!
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About Me
- Julia
- Thanks for coming to my blog. It started as a way to keep in touch with family and friends, and now has become an ongoing project. I'm an American living in Germany and trying to travel whenever I can. I write about my experiences as an expatriate (the interesting ones and the embarrassing ones), and about my travels. There are some recurring characters in this blog, particularly my husband Brian and several of our friends. The title comes from the idea that living in a foreign country means making a lot of mistakes. So the things you used to do easily you now have to try over and over again. Hopefully, like me, you can laugh at how idiotic it feels. If you have happened upon my blog, then welcome. Knowing that people are reading what I write makes me keep going. Feel free to write comments or suggestions for future posts.