15) Berlin, Baby!!

The cynic inside me always believes the only relationships worth fostering are those of mutual benefit, and it was with this in mind that a friend and I shamelessly contacted someone we haven’t seen for a year who lives in Berlin and asked to crash on his floor for a couple of days. We paid in food, wine, and good conversation.

There are two types of tourist in the world; ones that annoy the locals, and ones that annoy the locals and other tourists. I am aware of the irony and hypocrisy of moaning about tourists seeing as I was also one, but events of this week compel me to do so. Why do all basic road safety skills disappear when faced with a foreign city? How is it suddenly ok to stop in the middle of a street and point at a building whilst traffic is coming towards you? And why oh WHY do people insist on ignoring signs such as “no flash photography” completely? Fair enough if the sign consists of complicated foreign words. But when the sign is a picture of a flashing camera with a red cross through it, I would have hoped that the right course of action were logical. Apparently not.

  I, on the other hand, was a German speaking tourist. Oh how I tittered at the people standing around the train platforms fighting for a view of the transport system’s maps. I had brought one along with me in advance. Oh how I mocked the tourists riding the sightseeing busses that went the same way as a normal one but cost four times as much. I sat with the locals, having a great time riding the happy wave of my superiority complex. That is, until I met my nemesis: the shoe shop. Despite buying multiple pairs since arriving in September, I’ve never got the hang of the European shoe sizing system. Inspired by the beautiful creations in a shop window, I completely forgot the complicated foot related equations necessary and wandered inside. What followed can only be described as the ultimate clichéd tourist moment; unable to ask for my size and humiliated by my lack of shoe vocab, the withering stares of the shop assistant were too much. I fled, got lost, and to my shame (in public) got out a map.

 After thus abandoning my unsuccessful attempts to blend in as a true Berliner, I had a far more enjoyable time. The highlights of my week were all food related, as our lazy desire to “soak up the atmosphere” unsurprisingly took us more often than not into a cafe/restaurant/bar. In fact, we discovered a great one next to every touristy place; cheakpoint Charlie, Brandenburg gate, charlottenburg schloss… Berlin is a great city that I would recommend visiting, but it is so enormous that more than a long weekend is needed. Due to the wall, there is at least two of everything, not to mention hundreds of castles and museums. With this in mind, I will definitely be coming back armed with knowledge of the best cafes and (at last! much to the detriment of my bank balance) my shoe size.

been a long time…

I admit myself that it has been far too long since I wrote a blog on this site. My reasoning may seem ridiculous to some but perhaps understandable to others and I appeal to the latter group to be patient with me. I feel that once I get this out, I will be able to write more frequently.  In truth I have found it difficult to compose anything that I am content with as I feel that I was not entirely honest with myself and with those who were kind enough to read the blogs so far. I have not lied in my descriptions or in how fascinating the courses are. Amsterdam is wonderful. Truly, I would recommend studying here to any of my fellow students considering a year abroad.

What I was discontented with is not a fault of any one here or my ERASMUS experience. Having mulled it over for many a month, literally, I have decided to tell you the truth of what has happened. I am not looking for sympathy or anything of that nature. I want to write this blog in particular for anyone who finds themselves in a similar situation. I do not intend to suppose I know how others will feel in the scenario. I just want to offer my own personal experience to those who may find it in some way useful.

Two weeks before I left in August, my mother passed away suddenly.  In October I was saddened as my best friend, also on ERASMUS, went through a similar situation. In November my uncle followed. It is no understatement to say that the first semester was difficult for my family, my friend and myself and it did impact upon my positivity. The initial reaction was to pack it all in, maybe take a year out and stick close to home. Personally, I am glad I’ve stuck it out. I don’t think this makes me better than anyone else at all. The most important thing in these situations is to do what you think is best and it was my mother’s wish that we carry on as normal. To be more precise, she threatened to come down and kick our asses if we did otherwise )  She was a student at Edinburgh University herself, studying Geography in the 70s. Yet she had to drop out when her father suffered from the same disease, this experience probably being the motivation for telling us to stick it out.

And as I said, I’m glad I have. A year out at home would have probably grounded me more than uprooting to study in another country. However what I have found to be most beneficial, paradoxically, is the change of environment. It takes you out of the atmosphere and throws you into a completely new culture, new people, new everything. I do not want to suggest that everything is then wonderful. It’s overwhelming and difficult being away, but organising living arrangements, courses and general everyday shenanigans gave me something to focus on.  

From speaking with friends following my course back home, I must honestly say that there is a difference in the work load to the advantage of the ERASMUS student. This does not mean to imply that studying in Amsterdam is an easy ride, anything but!  Yet I would argue that there is more time to complete assignments and therefore less stress. On average for each course, only two large essays, if that, are expected during the mid term and the end of the semester. This is in addition to reading, mini assignments and presentations, so work is being done, just at a different pace.  It is important, as is advised, to write essays on your subjects anyway to stay in the habit but it is at your leisure. I am not sure how I would have coped had I stayed in Edinburgh. Who knows? )

 An advantage to being located in Amsterdam specifically is the geographical position in relation to Scotland. It has been easy to travel back and forth and so I have never felt trapped on the other side of the world. This has been very important to me.

Although I have been away from my family and friends, there has never been a moment when I felt like I could not to talk to anyone. The ISN, classes and living in the containers make meeting friends very easy. There is always someone around to have a laugh with and many places to go if you need some peace and quiet.

Although it is every individual’s choice to do what is best for them, I personally would advise anyone who finds themselves in this disagreeable situation, to consider the benefits of what an ERASMUS exchange could mean for them.  For my part, it has given me the opportunity to carry on with my degree at a more regulated pace, considering the circumstances, not to mention allowing me the chance to live and study abroad. A once in a life time opportunity.

 For now, cheerio. I’ll write again very, very soon.

Kirst. x

14) End of Term and THE Exam

After a rather unsettling meeting with an ERASMUS coordinator a month ago, it became apparent that I would have to take an exam in at least one of the classes that I’d taken this semester. To avoid this kind of shock I would advise anyone planning on studying abroad next year to force their exchanges coordinator to give them a written, signed version of how many ECTS points they will receive per class at the beginning of the semester to avoid any later confusion. The thought of having to write an exam in German appalled me (my errors forever and unchangeably captured on paper), so I decided to opt for an oral examination. A small part of my brain hoped it would be less daunting if I only had to talk in front of experts on my chosen subject; at least that way the memory of my errors would (hopefully) fade quickly.

Also, I was rather intrigued about the whole concept of an Oral exam. I somehow pictured it being slightly like the Oral part of a music exam, except without the clapping. It didn’t start off very successfully; I had an “English” moment. I turned up outside the office ten minutes early and sat there for twenty, not daring to knock on the door (something to do with the fear-respect thing that all professors induce). By the time I’d finally plucked up the courage I’d been keeping everyone waiting for quarter of an hour! Not a great start.

I would like to continue exaggerating about the trauma of it all, but I must be honest…it wasn’t that bad at all. I worked hard, and the work paid off. The professor was really friendly, and it was actually good fun to talk about the academic issues with him and get his opinion. Instead of it being a formal one-way thing, it was an animated academic discussion. Every time I struggled with words he helped me, so I felt really comfortable.  Another advantage of the oral exam; I received my grade straight away rather than waiting for things to be marked. So all in all (not including waiting time) the exam experience was over in 25 minutes. It was a really pleasant surprise-I almost felt like I’d cheated my way out of a proper one!

The term is now over and I feel very proud but also wary of the fact that half my time in Germany is nearly past. I am looking forward to returning to Edinburgh next academic year, but with it comes reality-all my final exams, interviews for jobs, and working out what I want to do with my life. This year is proving to be amazingly interesting and full of so many new experiences that I’m slightly paranoid that the “reality check” of next will leave me with post-exchange blues. Everyone I know who is only here for a year has such an amazing attitude of wanting to do and see everything in our limited time. It’s like a heady thirst for life, motivated by the fact that we know it can’t last forever. I am determined to take the attitude back to Scotland and make the most out of all opportunities I am presented with.

This morning I finished packing up my stuff and said goodbye to everyone. I’m sat writing this on a train to Berlin so should be feeling excited, but it was really sad. Some people on my corridor are moving out whilst I’m away, and some international students are going home, so who knows when I’ll see them again. It may seem a little melodramatic but let me indulge. Being the introverted Englishwoman that I am, I would never have guessed that you could make such good friends in such a short amount of time. I have learnt that it takes a step away from the comfort of familiarity to force myself to trust other people with my weaknesses.

13) Some Truly German Moments (because all stereotypes have some truth in them).

I have spent most of my time writing these blogs trying to avoid talking about some things I have experienced that reinforce certain German stereotypes. Partly because you would get bored of me talking about things you already know, partly because I would like to think I do not resemble any horrific English beer-swilling-football-hooligan stereotypes myself, and partly because in my opinion only small-minded people truly believe them anyway. Nevertheless, my time here has forced me to see that (as my title says), all stereotypes have some truth in them…

Recently, I was walking through a park on my way to an early morning lecture. The sky was gloriously blue and clear, and the ground was frosty and crisp. Kind of caught up in this wonderful moment (don’t laugh) I started walking on the grass and revelling in the texture and the crunches. Out of the blue, an elderly lady appeared. I smiled at her and said good morning, thinking she too must be captivated by the beautiful day. Instead of smiling back at me, she curtly replied that walking on the grass when it’s frosty ruins it, and asked me to get back onto the path where people are supposed to walk. I was so shocked that I just meekly obeyed. A witty reply even in English was beyond me, and my parent-instilled respect for Old People forced me not to revert to a rather-less-intelligent-yet-infinitely-more-satisfying gesture. Gutted.

I am habitually late, no matter how hard I try. I have often marvelled at other people’s ability to be not only on time, but early. Slightly off-topic, I have recently read a psychologist’s opinion that people like me are subconsciously late on purpose because they crave attention. I would like to point out that it’s not FUN being late all the time. It adds a great deal of stress to my life and a million avoidable calamities. The sad fact that these calamities are always due to my own incompetence is also ridiculously frustrating, as it leaves me unable to place the fault of my bad day/bad hair/bad bus journey etc. on other people and thus enjoy the accompanying feeling of self-righteousness. On the other hand, I am writing an online blog which could be seen as fairly attention-seeking behaviour

Either way, I actually made it to a lecture last week not only on time, but early. As in, 15 minutes early. I walked in to find a whole other world of earliness existing in perfect harmony. Everyone was happily wandering around chatting to their other early friends. I even got offered chocolate. I, the late one, was accepted into this community. And I am not exaggerating when I say community; the room was full. It turns out everyone was always on time except me, the English student. It has taken me twelve weeks in Tuebingen to arrive at a lecture early. Unintentionally, I have been fulfilling the stereotype that the English are always late.

Vegas

My entire trip to Vegas lasted 25 hours.  13 of these were spent driving there and back and 2 of them were spent sleeping, meaning I had to do my best to lose all of my money in just 10 hours – don’t worry, I managed!

 

The day before everyone else was due to leave for Nevada I had concluded that I wouldn’t be going, I traveled a lot in the first quarter and decided that I couldn’t really afford it so would stay back and do some work.  What I hadn’t counted on was just how much everyone else would be talking about it in the lead up and how much of their time they would spend trying to persuade me to come.  Inevitably, given the pressure, I made a compromise, in true red or black Las Vegas fashion I plucked the Nevada state quarter from my collection (I know, cool) and flicked it in the air – heads home, tails Vegas.  What can I say?  Nevada was calling me.

The only complication we hadn’t though of was that the Mustang we had booked for the drive there was now booked for 4 people, given I wasn’t supposed to be going!  So I was piled into the Minivan that the girls were bringing along and I sat on the floor in between seats for 6 hours there!

On arrival we made serious haste to get our suits ironed (this is Vegas after all), get showered and get down to the Casino in our hotel (Treasure Island).  After a wee steak dinner we got stuck straight in to playing on some of the machines.  My first observation was that paying on those machines where you pull the handle and watch the three rows spin is the easiest way to lose money EVER.  So after a couple of goes I moved hastily onto some Blackjack machines where, believe it or not I managed to start to win some money!  At this point in the night I found myself $20 in the black and the best part – waitresses were bringing me free drinks just because I was sat at the machines!  Brilliant.

That changed.  Next stop was the little cluster of our friends that had formed around the roulette machines – probably the most fun of the machines, but unfortunately for me not the most lucrative!  It was on these machines that I hit the red and didn’t come out!  Luckily I was saved by the lobbyists trying to get me out to a club before I lost much more money.  That said, it did cost me $30 to get into the club and the waitresses there were nowhere near as benevolent! 

Once out of the club, which was essentially a pit with smoke machines and cigarette smoke competing to be the first to give you a respiratory disease, I decided to throw myself back into the hearty hobby of throwing my money into Blackjack and Roulette machines until there was nothing left!  So 10 minutes later that had happened and a quick breakfast (it was now around 5) was all we needed before heading to bed – a few bob short from our night’s frolics!  Half past 7 we got up to drive home!  I felt almost ashamed of how slowly I was losing money compared to some others and I was only there for 12 hours, I dread to think of the sums that other people go through in a weekend!

12) Progress in my international relations…

When I look back at this month, the phrase “working-like-a-crazy-person” comes to mind. I have a feeling this phrase will forever be cemented on my traumatised consciousness, fighting off any attempt to look back with rose-tinted spectacles. If it wasn’t for Bob Marley I may not have made it. This week I gave a presentation to my all-German seminar group, which took me two and a half weeks of solid work to prepare for. Apparently after three months in a country “it all just clicks”. Well, as far as I can tell, I still have to work just as hard!

To exacerbate the stress, I decided to cook a belated Burn’s night supper for my corridor. To be precise, my mum decided this for me by sending me some in the post. A therefore hasty decision was made (as they would start going off before the week was out) – I decided to cook Haggis, neeps, and tatties for everyone after giving my presentation. My attempt to “keep things simple” was quickly panned after people heard poetry was involved; if we were going to eat haggis, we had to do it properly. After all, this needed to be an authentic two-weeks-late Burn’s night. The planning process went well; I invited about twenty people who all happily accepted. However, things started to fall apart as rumours of my Haggai (!?) spread around my halls of residence. People who had, a day earlier, happily accepted an invite, started coming up to me with worried expressions and quietly demanding to know the exact content of Haggis. It quickly became apparent that someone was scaring off the weaker-stomached theologians among us, which surprisingly turned out to be quite a few. J

After my presentation I set about the enormous task of chopping up 6 kilos of potatoes. I gave up peeling after two hours and 4 kilos. And started on my giant turnips. My hands were blistered before the day was through! All in all, I managed to cook enough to feed about 25 people-or rather, 25 big manly people who eat a lot. Unfortunately though, only nine people turned up! I like to blame the entirely correct rumours describing the horrific content of Haggis. However, I fear a more likely deterrent was the public fact that my Haggis had been unrefrigerated during their crossing from England, which took about a week. Some would interpret this small turnout as a disaster. I, however, like to find the positive in all situations, and take joy in pointing out that that the ten of us had a thoroughly fantastic evening drinking through the whiskey I’d bought for twenty people (obviously purely for disinfective purposes). Better safe than sorry.

Needless to say, drunken German attempts to recite Burns were disastrous and hilarious.