Poland, Part 2: From Castles to Concentration Camps

On the Wawel Castle and its Dragon, Kraków

On Sunday I woke up with my muscles aching from the day before, yet I felt great. Excited to wake up to greet the day, a breakfast of freshly made pancakes and stewed apples waited for me. Then, Justyna and I wrapped up warm and set off to the centre of Kraków to explore.

Walking along the Vistula River (which is the longest river in Poland) we enjoyed watching people strolling along its banks, seagulls screaming and diving into the water. A gigantic hot air ballon rose above the buildings, half-hiding in between the folds of a light fog, bathing everything in a mysterious, pastel pink-yellow glow. We made a brief stop at the Manggha Center of Japanese Art and Technology ( http://manggha.pl/ )- a large, low building shaped like a wave and produced by the famous Polish film director Andrzej Wajda in 1995.

The Wawel dragon is a well-known character in Polish folklore as he ate up all the young maidens of the region. He lived in a cave underneath the Wawel Castle, and one day King Krakus promised his daughter´s hand in marriage to whomever slayed the dragon. One day, a cobbler´s appretice stuffed a lamb with sulphur and gave it to the dragon, who became so thirsty that he gulped down half the Vistula river, and then rolled over and died. So, it was a happy ending, as the cobbler´s apprentice married the princess, and the dragon´s cave is now a shop for tourists.

Above, Wawel castle stands, still and quite overlooking the river, with picturesque green ivy climbing up its scarlet bricks. Legend has it that on December 24th, all the deceased kings of Poland gather here to celebrate in an underground chamber. A strange architectural jumble with a variety of styles competeing for attention, the styles include a mix of Renaissance and Gothic (which is like the Koeln cathédral meeting St. John´s ´co-cathedral in Valletta - can you imagine?) but somehow, it works, carrying off a unique sense of peculair beauty. The chapel was surely one I was particularly thrown off by, I had never seen the likes of it before. With marble sculptures bearing the graceful, decorative, curvaceous lines characteristic of the Baroque era, yet housed in the tall, solemn, pointed arched of the Gothic style, combined with painted wood, gold leaf, and plaster crown mouldings, this was an artistic treat for anyone with a cultured eye.

Day 3... "Arbeit Macht Frei"

That morning, I hopped on a train to Oświęcim (Oz-vee-chiym). A small, typically unimpressive Polish town. Several old, ugly, and hopefully derelict buildings dot every corner, and people are walking about the market. Doing their shopping on a Monday like any other. Yet, this small town comes with a big story; it was once the home of the largest of all the concentration camps belonging to Germany.

The camp is split into two parts which you can visit. Following a friend I made on the train (a light-hearted, chatty Australian filmmaker), I first went to Auschwitz I, which consisted of the original camp (and is now the main museum), and then Birkenau (Auschwitz II) which was the extermination camp, opened later in order to ease congestion at the main camp.

I spent all day there, yet still, I cannot describe to you fully the profound effect this place had on me. It was not just the knowledge that, over a million people were murdered there, oh, no. What really got to me was the fact that... the buildings were pretty... orderly, cute red-brick structures, a lush green lawn, people hanging around talking, laughing, taking photos, buying postcards*.... who would ever believe, who would ever imagine - had it not been written on plaques everywhere - that such atrocities were committed there? That less than a hundred years ago, all kinds of actual human beings, real men, women, and children, lived and breathed and squirmed and died there, the ground, this lush green grass that you walk upon, is probably still drinking their blood!

I pictured men lining up, the scarlet walls spattered with shards of skull and bits of brain as the bullets entered their heads, how the women watching from behind the bars must have screamed, like their souls were being ripped out from their bodies, I imagined children starving slowly to their deaths, their skin sticking to their bones, to the insides of their cheeks as though they were trying to imitate a fish sucking in water. But no games of pretend for these children, Hell was their reality. Where the morning greeted you with not warm blankets and mummy´s kisses, but with the saltiness of tears and the warmth of flowing blood.
(*Yes, buying postcards. You can now send your mother a picture saying 'Ich war hier!' with the wrought-iron words "ARBEIT MACHT FREI" in the background.)

I walked into one large room whose walls were covered with photos, side by side, frontal portraits. The room was filled with wire structures in the shape of human beings walking after each other, backs bent. The haunting structures were clothed with prisoner´s uniforms, and the headlessness gave the eerie impression that ghosts were present. I watched the other tourists casually strut about, nonchalantly, popping gum bubbles noisily, and wondered if they knew that the eyes of ghosts were watching them.

Another large room, a very long, rectangular one this time. An attendant forbids me to take photos in this area. The room is dark, dim, and the little light which is present has a strange colour because there is some kind of purple filter on the glass of the windows. One third of the room is taken up by a gigantic display case, with angled yellow light cast on what seems to be piles upon piles of woolly intestines, mostly a dusty colour, a mix of brown and grey, with the occasiocal light streak of whitish-yellow. Completely mystified, I ask my friend what this thing is. He looks at me and shakes his head.

"It's human hair", he says. "Used by the Germans as raw material for the textiles industry... you know, to stuff pillows, make ropes with. About two tonnes of it."

I feel extremely naseous. Even more so, when on the other end of the room, a much smaller case displays a collection of long braids, different colours, blonde and auburn and chestnut brown, cut off from the heads of young girls.

I leave the room... walk away from the building...past the people...run to the toilets....

Sitting with the door closed, and I can do nothing but cry.

REFERENCES:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Auschwitz_concentration_camp#cite_ref-rees2_15-0
http://en.auschwitz.org/m/
http://myths.e2bn.org/mythsandlegends/userstory6306-the-legend-of-the-wawel-dragon-a-polish-traditional-legend.html

Adventures in Poland, Part 1

I am sitting on the floor. My back presses against a door to keep it open, whilst my knees I struggle to keep to my chest so that people can try to get to the bathroom. I am wedged in between a sleeping teenager, a girl my age attempting to read, and a rotund drunken man who has begun to sing a song in what I assume to be Polish.
The journey lasts three hours.

By the time I arrived in Krakow on Friday, it was already dark at 5.30pm. After a full 13 hours of travelling, finally I had arrived, and boy, was I exhausted! So, I felt exhilarated to see once again the bright face of my dear friend Justyna, buried underneath several layers of clothing and a thick beanie, waiting for me with a big smile warmer than her outfit. In the meantime, a thick fog had spread over the city, smothering anything that was more than a few metres away. As a result, I didn't really see much of Krakow until Sunday, as Justyna had something special planned for Saturday. That night, we ordered a 'spinaci' pizza (minus the spinaci) and I told her about my adventures on the train. Which included being proposed to by the drunken guy and making friends with the girl (and being invited for a smoke with her and two random guys in the bathroom). Exciting, indeed!

Day 1: The Trip to the Tatras

Wake up at 7am. It's dark. Shake off the grogginess, shower, put on three layers of everything except underwear. Laugh at yourself in the mirror.
Drive two hours in the fog. Watch the early morning sunlight being filtered through it as you cup an energy drink in your hands as though it were warm.
Arrive. Park. Watch people load baggage onto carriages pulled by two horses. Your breath comes out in steam. You feel sorry as your friend comments that several horses have died from the trip. You feel even sorrier when she says you're about to spend around 8 hours hiking (and the last time you excercised was around two weeks ago).

Walking slowly uphill, you're already about to die after twenty minutes. The cold presses on your head, and your backpack is heavy and drags you backwards. You know that in 40 minutes you will leave the easygoing tarmac road, and it will be rocks, mud, and frost all the way uphill for three hours after that. You think 'There's no way I can do this. I can't. I won't.'

You stop. You breathe in, long and heavy. Something catches your eye. Clusters of long, thin, slightly curved ice tubes, a silvery-white colour. They look like strands of fibre optic. As we approach the bare soil, we notice not one, or two, but hundreds of these shimmering bundles everywhere. Fascinated, I ask my friends what these curiosities are. She replies; "I don't know, I've never seen them before."

We continue to hike. My initial frustration has left me, and we trudge rhythmically forwards and upwards, through forests, past waterfalls, over frosted boulders reflecting the pastel yellow sun. I notice that the ice tube clusters seem to have gathered only where the soil is exposed. I briefly recall a Geography lesson from years back.
And then it hits me.
"It's transpiration!!", I exclaim.
"Huh?" Justyna raises an eyebrow.
"You know when you have evaporation? This is water vapour from plants, or in this case, the ground, going up to the sky and being frozen on the way."
And, as though to prove my point, we come across a large patch of bare soil, not only with these little tubes, but actually icicles emerging from the ground, pointing like spears to the sky. Happiness wells up in my chest, gives me strength to continue.

As we climb higher and higher, I stop to gaze, gobsmacked. Imagine a panoramic view of berserkly rockied mountaintops, with snow falling down the sides. As we try not to slip, walking uphill over a frozen stream, a steep side of the mountain comes into sight. It is glinting in the light, and when we approach, we stop in our tracks as we the reason see why.

A glittering waterfall of ice stands magnificently before us. Large falling bodies of water, frozen in space and time, drop steeply to the ground. You can see every wave, each ripple- carved into the waterfall's surface, still and shining, caught in a flow over the sides of the mountain. Like the folds of a woman's dress flow over the curves of her body, so the river drapes the mountain.

Wonder upon wonder is thrust upon us, everywhere we turn, we see magnificence and beauty. And when we finally reach our destination, a tiny hostel nearby a frozen lake which is dwarfed by the sheer size of the surrounding mountainrange; we felt not tired, but re-energized, reborn, filled once again with that initial wonder and fascination, with not only nature, but life itself- that wonder which we somehow lose in the process of our mind's petty rountine: work, stress, worries - and in the process of losing this wonder, we forget how to live, what it means to be truly alive.

If there ever was a time in my life where things were so dark that I wished I were dead... well, this day made me grateful that that wish never came true.

END OF PART 1

Blogger's Note:
The trip will be divided into three parts in an attempt to do justice to the experiences that I attempt to describe. Also, since my funds are running a bit low, will not be sure if I travel anywhere else until mid-December. But, more on that later...

Also, what would you, dear Readers, like to hear about? Tips on travelling with a student budget, good places to eat/visit? Have any of you ever been to Poland, and what was your experience?

Comments below :)

"Yeah, it's a shithole. But we love our shithole."

Welcome to my home city: Gelsenkirchen.

The caption to today´s article is a quote from one of my colleagues who is from this very special city. You might get an idea why he said this later on.

Anyways, you probably haven't heard of Gelsenkirchen before. That's probably because it is one of Germany´s smaller cities. GE forms part of the North-Rhine Westphalia, hosting around 267,000 people. Previously it had a large coal-mining industry, and for this it was known as “the city of a thousand fires” due to the flames of the mine gases during the night. Something interesting to note is that during World War II, it formed part of the Buchenwald concentration camp for women.

One of Gelsenkirchen´s biggest attractions is the Veltins Arena, a huge football stadium which hosts the local football team of Schalke 04. This means that it is quite common during all times of the day to see drunken people smelling of bratwurst and walking about wearing blue and white singing in chorus (including on the trams). You might also bump into several men who are, most openly and proudly, taking a piss in full view during your leisurely stroll in the park.

(the photo below right I took today, waiting for the tram. It shows the main street of Buer, where there are many shops, cafes, etc)

Other interesting things to see/do here in GE include visiting theme park of ´Movie Park Germany´ (which is fantastic fun, yet on the more expensive side. During Halloween the park stays open until 10pm, and they hire people to wear sick-looking, yet highly realistic makeup, and to run around wild with buzzing chainsaws and give the visitors the fright of their life - see photo), the zoo of ZOOM Erlebniswelt (which I have still to visit, maybe when my budget allows), and also, the Kunstmuseum in Buer, which has a really cool section of ´Kinetic Art´where you can touch the works and interact with them, like clap your hands and they do something like make funny sounds or create light effects (It´s also free of charge). Check it out: http://stadt.gelsenkirchen.de/de/Kultur/Kunstmuseum/

Gelsenkirchen today hosts Germany´s largest solar power plant, and simultaneously, Germany´s tallest chimneys. Several times a week I hear alarms going off, either the ambulance, the police, someone´s car, or the fire brigade. And, since I´ve been living here, I´ve seen the damaged windows of attempted burglaries at least twice. In the same street.

Along with a high rate of unemployment and the fact that half of the city seems to be under construction, one would think that it is not exactly the ideal place to live. So I refer to the above quote. Nevertheless, the city sticks to me like the smell of raw garlic, and admittedly I a fondness has taken root in my heart for this place.

I love how, whilst I´m waiting for the tram in Buer after a long day, the light of the setting sun bathes everything in a soft golden light, and the metal cut-out of a man standing holding an umbrella on the opposite building looks a little warmer. I enjoy shopping for groceries at Netto or the SuperBiomarkt, where everything is still in German - but now, most things I can understand, and the young man at the cashier smiles at me, because now I am a familiar customer to him.

It´s exhilarating too, whenever I feel heavy or down, or simply like I have too much on my mind, to be able to walk for several minutes and then to be in a park, surrounded by foliage and tall, dark tree trunks. I enjoy treading along the path which is lost under the reddish-orange leaves (that have long fallen off the trees), they crackle like a fire burning under my footsteps.
If you, too, walked along this path, you would eventually arrive near a wide green lake, complete with ducks and swams swimming on its surface. And on this lake, you too could watch the coloured lights dance, as the sun sets in its reflection.

Short note:
Next week´s blog will be late.
Because.... I will be in POLAND.....
;-)

A Diversion from Travelling: On Germany and the Germans

Hello once again, dear Readers! For this blog entry we will be taking an inside look at what it is like to actually live in Germany. Are the Germans really like the stereotype? Are they tall, cold and reserved, do they really feed only on copious amounts of beer and sausage, and simply drink water to surprise their liver? Can they only speak English with an enthusiastic 'Ja!' every three words? Read on.

So, I've been living in Germany for the past two months, and I think I've gotten at least a basic impression of the strange, yet alluring people known as 'Germans'. And the one thing that really hits me is that no two Germans are alike. Especially if they come from two different regions. For those who aren't German and reading this, Germany is made up of sixteen states, known as Bundesland. These states are actually more like little countries, so German sounds significantly different if its spoken by someone from Hannover, as compared to someone from the Bavarian region. The Hannover German is considered to be the 'high' or 'proper' German, whilst the Bavarian German - isn't really considered German.

This makes the language a little more difficult to learn. Apart from adding in lots of grammatical rules, with plenty of exceptions, it also has which have three genders. The Germans just like to add in extra rules, for fun. And we non-natives are left speechless (pun intended) even whilst attempting to form the simplest of sentences. As illustrated below.

Yes. German has its own style of doing things. It likes to be different, to stand out, to prance about in lederhosen whilst everyone else is still wearing skinny jeans.

On the other hand, German is remarkably creative. It has a way of wording things that allows for a greater capacity for expressing oneself, for greater understanding. Which I love. One of my favourite words is 'waldeinsamkeit', which has no translation in English. It refers to the feeling of being alone in the woods. Google Translate calls it 'forest solitude'. Which doesn't really quite sum it up. So at least, the 101 rules that come along with learning the language serve some kind of purpose.

Apart from their language, the Germans generally have laws for everything. You can't find or download original films or music online (unless you want to pay a hefty fine), it is illegal to tune pianos at midnight, and a pillow is actually classified as a 'passive weapon' and hitting someone with one can lead to charges of assault. There is even a law determining where you can walk, when you can walk. Like if you want to cross the road, and the little stick man on the pedestrians' traffic light is red, woe betide you if you cross the road. You may get a fine if a policeman sees you; otherwise you simply receive a few withering looks and comments about your mental state of mind. This goes for all times of the day; it is not uncommon to see people at 2am on the sidewalk of an empty road, waiting for the little stick man to turn green.

Apart from being adept at making the most finicky of laws, Germans tend to have other talents, such as having great taste in clothing. Both men and women tend to dress well, choosing colours and cuts to suit their own style. Although to be fair, that's significantly easier when you're tall and blonde.

Germans are also gifted in the time-management section. It is very rare that I meet a German who wastes time. Yes, they use Facebook and spend time socializing like everyone else, but almost everyone in their spare time either plays an instrument, does sports (usually badminton or table tennis), reads a good book– fixing cars or motorbikes seems to be somewhat of a favourite pastime amongst men. One of my German friends spends his leisure time making money by surfing Ebay for old crap, fixing it up a little, and reselling it.

No wonder the German economy is so strong.

Other things to note about Germans and Germany: the love of Wurst is not exaggerated in the stereotype. Germans really love their sausage. They even have butcheries dedicated solely to sausage; and in Berlin, the well-loved Currywurst (a fried pork sausage drowned with warm ketchup and liberally sprinkled with curry powder) even has its own museum ( see http://www.currywurstmuseum.de). On the other hand, they also have a thriving vegetarian community, and all restaurants have a vegetarian section on the menu with plenty of appealing options to choose from. However, be warned – 'Vegetarian' in German ususally means 'drowned in cheese'.

Apart from the stereotype about German love for sausage, German love for beer is also not exaggerated. Here one can find many ways to drink beer – such as mixed with cola or fanta or even as a marinade for your sausage. There are over 200 types of German beer, including chili-flavoured beer, banana-flavoured beer, and even chocolate -flavoured beer, and boy, can they drink!
Germans seem to be generally suspicious of beverages that don't sparkle and you will generally have trouble finding still bottled water to buy. Which is odd since Germans also seem to be suspicious of drinking tap water.

Germans also seem to love foreign food (or rather the eingedeutscht version) and anywhere you go in Germany you will notice an abundance of thriving restaurants, particularly Kebap Häuser, where a typical dish is a doner kebab with a generous side of sauerkraut. The Germans have also borrowed the Italian concept of gelateria and turned it into what is known as an Eis-Cafe, where any kind of dessert with ice cream may be found, from waffles to strudel, to simply ice-cream cream on its own (also available in spaghetti form and known as Spaghetti Eis).

There is really so much to say about die Deutschen that I really could write an entire book about them and their culture! Actually,there is one: 'The Xenophobe's Guide to the Germans' (I borrowed it off my professor). They worship football, cars, David Hasselhof, and recycling; they don't know how to queue; and they hold a special place in their hearts for herbal remedies. And dogs; in fact, their dogs go with them everywhere, on buses, trams, and some Germans even have little buggies to attach to their bikes so that their dogs can come for the ride.

Anyways, that concludes this blog on the Germans, next week: A focus on the one city I haven't written about yet: my hometown!

An insider look at the special city of.... Gelsenkirchen.

Auf wiedersehen, meine Lesen!

(extra note: the above blog is dedicated to my avid reader, Katja Drope :D hope you like it, Kat!!)

References:

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/europe/germany/4399866/Ten-crazy-German-rules.html

http://nasenbohrer.com/

Cottages, Cathedrals, and Cannabis: Welcome to Osnabrück, Cologne, and Amsterdam!

Hallo meine lieben Leser, due to some feedback I got from you all, I will revert to my usual lively style of writing about my adventures, and boy, have there been some! Big thanks to all the people who commented on the blog, whether by directly commenting, or FB messages, or face-to-face - all is appreciated! So, let's get down to the doing...

Wilkommen in Osnabrück

I have a dear German friend who came to visit me briefly before attending a workshop. He also was enthusiastic to show me his hometown; this is how I found myself straight after class on the three hour train ride to Osnabrück. With every half-hour that passed, I could see the surroundings becoming greener and greener, until there came a point where I could see the even the highest trees being drowned in the proliferating fields of corn.

Arriving at the station, I was then lead around the town by my friend, who was the perfect tour guide. Chattering excitedly, pink-cheeked, and highly enthusiastic, he completely broke any remenant German stereotype I had. Together, we marched round, trying to fit in everything in just a day - the best part was sitting in a quirky little jazz 'n 'blues cafe called Mojo's, relaxing with some Fairtrade coffee and organic chocolate pear tart...bliss!

Everywhere I looked, I saw cobbled streets and red-tiled roofs; they captured my heart with their quaint charm. There was artwork on every corner, and wooden benches and signs and little trees dotting the streets. There, and also when I visited his typically German home in Bad Essen - I was enchanted by the white-washed cottages, and the dim yellow light cast a mysterious glow over everything, giving me the feeling that I had walked into a fairytale.

I could easily picture Hansel and Gretel in their gingerbread house here, especially as we walked past the edge of a nearby forest. In the dark, the tall trees looked spooky and menacing, yet a shiver of fear and pleasure ran up my back as I inhaled the dank green smell of the earth, listened to the shrill sound of crickets chirping as though they were the maddened inmates of a loony bin.

Hello, KÖLN!

The day after, I was picked up by another German friend, aka Priest Boy (as he was known on his Erasmus studies in Malta xD) and together we sped along the Autobahn, making the 2hr trip to the infamous city of Cologne.

Upon arrival, we were greeted by a tall, cuddly-looking (yet still distinguished) young German gentleman, who agreed to take us around his beloved city. Friendly, and possessing a stark wit, he was great company, taking us around to see the magnificent view of the Hohenzollern bridge, and of course the cathedral.

Towering over the city, there it stood, dark and foreboding (kind of like it was photoshopped from Nosferatu) - the intimidating Cologne cathedral! As we approached, I shivered at the terrifying beauty of its geometric design and gigantic spires, as though the Titans themselves had fashioned spears out of silvery-grey molten basalt and pointed them at the heavens, if only to mock the gods that if they were not allowed into heaven, they themselves would create one here on Earth.

And boy oh boy, did they succeed. Especially when I walked inside. I was dumbfounded by the gloriously coloured, intricately-patterned stained glass, the perfectly formed statues, the ribbed vaults and pointed arches, and most of all - the light.
As the sun began to set, orange gold rays of sun sneaked through the little portals of tinted glass and danced along the marble floors; imagine a broken rainbow spilling itself over the ground, and its insides are still squirming around for dear life, like fish out of water.

And last but not least...
AMSTERDAM.

Friday.
5pm. Riding in the rain in a car.
Two Lithuanians.
A bigass bottle of Sangria.
A professional camera.
And - the Girl from the Rock.

I had a feeling that this was going to be an eventful weekend ;-)

A live gig. Great music. Random dancing. Beer. So much smoke in the bar, you could've gotten high from passive smoking. The air is so thick with the smell of pot it made you dizzy.

A cabin in the woods. Two beds. One sleeping bag. Leftover wine. Freaking cold.

Cow statues stuck on a celing. Free cheese. Bicyles everywhere.

Sex shops. Shisha shops. Coffeeshops.

Open-air market. Mushrooms. Bread, Indian stuff. More cheese.

A tiny room filled with blacklights. An ancient woman with straggly white hair talking about electrons. Works of art in fluorescent colours glowing everywhere, hanging from the ceiling, draped over the floor. A little glowing Buddha sits happily in a corner.

Overpriced vegetarian pizza. Relationship problems. Listening. Good coffee.

A Lithuanian slamming a bass. A Fender Telecaster. Maltese fingers are on the strings, and my voice is in the air. Random jamming session until Dutch Dreadlocks guy comes over and tells us we need to buy something. We leave.

Brief lesson on how to tell the difference from cafes and coffeshops. In the meantime, a search for space cake.

Unsatisfied customers. Overpriced dessert with next to no stuff in it. We shrug it off, just planning to have a quick coffee and go back to Germany.

Random dancing. Enlarged pupils. Everything is funny. Everyone seems horny. Or is that just me??!?

Lying on a bridge under indigo skies. The river seems to be on fire as the lamplights reflect over the waters. Next thing I'm in a car.

Warmth. Something cuddly. I bury my nose in this thing and snuggle it more.

I wake up in my bed. It is 9pm. On Sunday.

I've always loved stories. Reading them, listening to them, writing them. When you tell a story to others, you tell it also to yourself, and in telling the story to yourself, you bring yourself to understanding the story more than you ever thought you would.

I've been feeling somewhat unsatisfied with the way my blog has been sounding lately. It seems to me as though it has become a rather lengthy Facebook status, shoving the activities of my life into the faces of others and expecting others to find it interesting. It lacks to captivate even my own interest as I reread it, which is to be expected, as it has none of the presence and stark honesty that is the byproduct of work which has sprung from one's heart. It sounds rather fake and childish, and the language leaves much to be desired.

So this is an experimental post. One which tells the readers not whether I've been to Cologne or to a theme park or the shop round the corner, but tells you only as much as you want to read. You, the reader, will decide where I am - in my state of mind and in my heart.

“As it unfolded, the structure of the story began to remind me of one of those Russian dolls that contain innumerable ever-smaller dolls within. Step by step the narrative split into a thousand stories, as if it had entered a gallery of mirrors, its identity fragmented into endless reflections.”
― Carlos Ruiz Zafón, The Shadow of the Wind

Until we meet again.

I simply stared at her as she stood in the doorway.

To cut a long, long story short - some drunk guy managed to get into her flat through her flatmate's window (as he left it open and they are on the ground level) and stole lollipops, alcohol, and a hair straightener, also breaking several mugs and trashing her flatmate's room on his way.

MANY, many apologies for having delayed this blog entry. However (as you will see) I've been pretty busy, all with meeting my Professor and spending 5 days with him, his family, and three other students on a crazy trip to Koblenz, starting orientation sessions at the Fachhochshule Gelsenkirchen, and - a brief trip to the infamous city of Cologne to watch a live gig!

But it is nice to know that I've got such a great audience - thanks y'all! Also a big thanks to Rafael Dias Sandoval, another Erasmus student from sexy Brazil, for sharing my blog on his site - check out his blog: http://enfimnaalemanha.wordpress.com/

Anyways - back to my adventures in Deustchland :-) So, Kim decided to change residences and is now living close to university. She is fine now, living with a bunch of Romanians, a Belgian, and a lively American girl - very intercontinental!

The Trip to Koblenz

Last Tuesday. All us JPR (Journalism and Public Relations) students go to our tutor's office. Our tutor is a tall, bespectacled German with long teeth, twinkly eyes, and hair that does not look unlike small strings of spaghetti. Amiable, and bordering the eccentric, he goes by the name Professor Doctor Rainer Janz.

Striding into his office and winking at us, he announces that he will be picking us up that very day at 2pm to stay with him and his family in the city of Koblenz, until Sunday.

All of us being the civil beings that we are, we just raised our eyebrows at each other and agreed to be dragged to Koblenz for the week.
Spread out over the sides of the river Rhine, Koblenz is a fascinating city. Picturesque, with quaint white houses roofed with red tiles, it looks typically German. Greenery is everywhere, and the trees' long branches look as though they are reaching out and cuddling the city. Cobbled, clean roads with musicians on every corner, here artists have a real job; to make the city beautiful, and boy, do they take their job seriously! Castles dot the riverbanks, and a gigantic, 37m high bronze statue of Kaiser Wilhelm on a horse stands proudly at the confluence of the Rhine and the Moselle (it is known as the Deustche Eck).

We were well and truly exhausted by the end of the trip. Basically, we did a fortnight's worth of sightseeing in five days. Prof. Janz, being German, planned everything from dawn till dusk - and insisted that his plan be carried out exactly...

We went to a Celtic festival - which was amazing!

The little wooden stalls presenting different wines, spices, perfumes from the Orient, leather boots and sheepskin cloth, a robed woman with long nails, wearing lots of jewellery and a variety of coloured scarves, eyed us up and offered to tell our fortune; inhaling the smell of Auszogne, these delicious fried pastries topped with stewed apple. But - best of all - was the music. The rhymthic bass beat of the drum, coupled with wailing bagpipes, a mandolin, and a flute - really and truly took me to another era - one really got the feeling that they were living in a time where people showered only once a year!

We also crashed his wife's work party (by invitation) where we had free alcohol - and I discovered my love for 'radler' :P and also danced like crazy - the musicians playing enjoyed our liveliness so much that the singer stuck the mike in front of us at one point during 'I Will Survive' (those who know me will know what a coincidence this is!!) and we sang our faces off....all in all it was a pretty good time.

We went to a SchmetterlingeGarten - a large greenhouse/garden with a 1001 tropical butterflies fluttering around us - landing on our clothes and hair even!Snow White herself as she walked through the forest couldn't have been more enchanted! We also visited two castles and climbed up this wooden structure simply designed to give one a panoramic view of Koblenz, with the Rhine and the Mosel running through its heart. I also watched with fascination as our dear Professor enthusiastically attacked a typical German dish called Currywurst, which is basically a grilled sausage sliced up into little pieces with tomato sauce and liberally added amounts of curry powder on top...I could just imagine my brother's mouth watering....

And, More Recently...

So last week we started orientation sessions. I enjoyed getting to know the campus of the Fachhochschule; I like the modern-yet-somewhat-unkept feel it has, and the atmosphere of students studying (they have exams right now) in its hallways. I was pretty pleased to find out that the canteen has vegetarian food - cheap and delicious, too. Although, they serve the veggie burger with a generous helping of bechamel cheese sauce so thick, that after five minutes it has solidified once again into cheese. But it is pretty yummy.

Frustrated is the only word to describe how I felt with the language barrier (EVERYTHING was in German - all I could say was "Scheiße!"). So you can imagine my horror, when, each and every single JPR student had to STAND UP and introduce themselves....my heart hammering in my chest, I stood up:
"Hallo, mein name ist Natasha, aus Malta, und ich bin zwanzig Jahre alt. And I apologise, but I've used up all my German for today."

Laughs. Phew...and I continue in English. Luckily everyone understands English (unless I speak at my normal pace!) so I was fine. Made friends with a few fellow students, in particular two very tall Germans. One of them does radio broadcasting,is also a sound engineer and a highly talented musician, the other one... well, he looks like an RAF pilot who walked out of 1942, and he does fire-fighting in his free time :) either way, I thoroughly enjoyed last Friday, when they were kind enough to invite me to watch a live gig (with the musician guy on the drums...again I think of my brother!!)in Cologne.

This weekend, spending most of it with the Erasmus students (who are really and truly a kickass bunch of people - everyone is smart, friendly, and really funny!). Next week will be visiting a dear friend in Northern Germany to see his hometown, and in the middle of the week, another dear friend will come to visit. All in all, life is not too bad.

Over the past month that I've been living here in Germany, I've really had a few dark days... when it really hits you that you are in this foreign country, with its strange ways of doing things and strange people, and all the people you love and who love you are far away... yes, you can call/facebook/skype, but it's not the same of course. But then, on a seemingly grey morning in the middle of the week, I woke up and went to to open the curtains. And I discover that God had left me a present outside my window.

I smile, and feel thankful in my heart. Because everything is going to be just fine.