Bis Spaeter Deutschland

We leave Germany tomorrow. After 18 months and two apartments and one collapsed roof and countless jugs of Applewein, we're leaving the 'Furt. Our apartment floor is covered in suitcases and with clothes and books and boxes of chocolate. I feel sad, of course, and already nostalgic, but two circumstances have abated any true breakdowns.

The first was that I spent the last 11 days not in the 'Furt but in Papenburg, a small northern city near the border to the Netherlands. When I was at Uni last fall I was asked to be an instructor at a summer "Schueler Akadamie" for exceptionally gifted German high schooler entering their last year of Gymnasim (like High School). The Akadamie is supposed to expose them to the rigors of Uni learning. I taught a cultural studies class on post-war America 1946-1959. The Akadamie was a lot of work, breakfast at 7 and then two three-hour sessions (morning and afternoon) interspersed with activities (I organized a ping pong tourney, and I made some Oragami cranes). This being Germany, in the evening we had hours of "quality control" meetings with other teachers and I usually threw myself into bed no earlier than 12:30. It was rough. But it was also fun. I made the students read "Catcher in the Rye" and "On the Road," and topics discussed included Truman, Elvis, McCarthyism, the Interstate, Chase records and I even managed to squeeze in an excerpt from one of my favorite school-days books "The Right Stuff," when talking about the space race.

Although the Akadamie was fun it left me drained. I don't know how high school teachers can interact with teenagers all day. This is not because I find teens difficult, quite the opposite: I was touched by how vulnerable and awkward and sad most of them are . The in-groups and out-groups were so clear, and I especially couldn't handle certain sensitive boys who have neither an aptitude for sports nor a way to understand deal with their sexual attraction to girls. And of course there were the handful of foreign students who everyone avoided like the plague. These became my people, as I was one of them too.

The other reason I haven't been too broken up is because I'm only home in MN for one week before we move to North Carolina, which may be a bigger shock than moving to Germany. Yes, I speak the language but I have to look for work, find out where I got to the grocery store, acknowledge the hurricane season, etc. Also, our lives will still certainly be linked to Germany, and I doubt there will be more than a year or two that goes by without us visiting or working here for extended periods of time.

But all that being said I'm getting sadder as I write this. I used this blog to complain and BS about all the cultural differences an American experiences while living in Germany, but I haven't really done the country justice. Yes, the people can be narrow-minded and unfriendly. But there is a common trust Germans, and people living in Germany share, a very basic understanding that if you follow the rules and don't hurt anyone you will be protected and respected. They are a very careful people, with myriad reasons to be, and this quality extends to all aspects of life. They are orderly and punctual, clean and precise. These are easy things to pick on, because they signify maturity, and at the end of the day a mature nation is a fundamentally boring nation. But that's ok. What seems boring on the outside reads closer to contentment on the inside. So, goodbye Deutschland, I will see you again soon.

PTSD?

I think Erik suffers from PTSD ever since the ceiling debacle. It's like I live with a veteran.

We've been back in our place for four nights and Erik listens to the walls to see if he can hear anything There are some weird tiny pebble noises, and we did spend our first night back on an air mattress on the kitchen floor, but I see no cracks above my head. Oh wait. I didn't see any cracks last time either.

Our landlord paid illegal Romanian workers under the table to work on our place. They speak no German, or English and I kept finding them smoking in our bathroom which really took away the fresh paint smell of the apartment. But they were very friendly and had interesting box lunches which they ate by me.

For our temporary housing we were put up in the Hotel Maingau, a block away from us. Of course our landlord paid for the cheapest option and so we had a room with two twin beds nailed to opposite sides of the wall. We did however have CNN and SKY and BBC, which is just gluttonous. I could flip channels during the MJ funeral and I got to watch Richard Quest the horrible/awesome British business news reporter on CNN International. Youtube him, he's always yelling.

At least the sky falling helped us preempt any sadness we could have for leaving this place.

Can you believe this?

This morning our apartment broke. Seriously, the ceiling fell. The police came, then the firemen.

Here's how it happened. This morning I got up, ate breakfast and then went to make the bed. I noticed a small amount of sand and dirt on the corner an looked up. The ceiling was cracked and dirt was pouring down our wall, sounding suspiciously like a Rainmaker.

I called Erik and he came home, but not before the ceiling exploded and I screamed because it sounded like it was 1945 again in my 'hood. Then Erik came home and as we were trying to contact the landlord, the fix-it man, someone another part of the ceiling fell prompting our neighbors to call the police and volunteer fire brigade.

Here are some pictures. PRAY for us. Just kidding. Just look at your nice American ceilings in your house and smile smugly.