I feel like today has been blog-worthy. I haven't really done much except had a good day at school and decided that I would start looking for a WG (Wohngemeinschaft - that's German for a living community, i.e. a shared house). The student halls where at the moment is alright, but I don't learn much German or do much else here; uni life in Germany couldn't be more different from uni life in England. There are not frequent piss-ups or socials, it's like they all have work to do or something. And I'm getting WG-envy of friends who live with Germans and hang out with Germans.
Anyway, I emailed a few adverts for places I liked the look of and one girl emailed me back within the hour and told me I could call and sort out a time to come and see the place. She said it was fine if I wanted to speak English on the phone because she's German and used to hate English phonecalls at the beginning. I hate phoning people I don't know anyway, so that was reassuring. Was a bit thrown when a guy answered the phone. Lara didn't sound like a guy's name. He was nice to me though, told me Lara was out and she'd call me back and we had a bit of a chat. I was proud of how well I managed auf Deutsch. I am almost like a competent person!
I shouldn't get excited cos there will probably be lots of competition and they probably won't end up letting me live there but I am ever so excited! At the very least, I am going to meet three Germans a similar age to me.
Speaking of exciting internet networking, I need to thank Maria Cansella for recommending couchsurfer to me; I answered one post on the Bochum group forum and I got three emails from people who immediately want to hang out with me, including getting invited out drinking at the weekend and to a Halloween party. The internet...what an invention...
Dora.
xxx
Mittwoch, 27. Oktober 2010
Sonntag, 24. Oktober 2010
How I spent Herbstferien
Drunk, mostly. It might have been the best two weeks ever, and will be hard to summarise. Almost as hard as the thought of going back to school tomorrow, at 7.50am, when all I've done for two weeks is have fun. Not that it's a hard job or anything, but it still feels like a drag compared to constant partying in various cities.
Muenster Oktoberfest proved almost as amazing as actual Oktoberfest and also proved that Dave Wateridge can always be trusted to provide us with a decent Germ night out, as well as being trusted to get wasted, naked, sick and chucked out by security. Oh, and according to the adverts now found all over Muenster, he also gives 'die beste blasen'.
Other ferien trips included me, Pippa and Bertpfeif discovering Bochum Stadtpark which was a bit lovely, and also me and Pippa being tourists around Koeln. We climbed the Dom. It's a nice Dom, I think it's my favourite building in the world.
Our holiday in Amsterdam (our Holidam or Damoliday) was pretty special. Pedaloing was a highlight, even though it rained. To be fair, after seeing Blink 182 in the rain over summer, I'm starting to think rain can actually improve things, or at the very least make a situation a bit more jokes. We also sampled some clubbing; once accompanied by some 16 year old German children at a club full of strange pervy men, then the next night to a pretty special (probably gay, pirate-themed) bar, where Max experienced some random guy trying to snog him without permission, and Pippa got enclosed in a circle of guys. It was a rapey sort of place...in a fun way...
After Dam, I went to Wijhe where I was looked after and cooked for by my Oma for two nights, and got to hang out with my Mum, Dad and sister. My mum brought me over a suitcase full of awesome stuff I missed from home, like posters and blutac and baked beans. My sister brought me some chocolate covered ants.
I had a bit of a mare coming back from Holland. Disclaimer for the benefit of all Germs: just because a train says on the front that its final destination is Dortmund Hbf, does not mean it will necessarily go all the way to Dortmund Hbf. If it's anything like the train I got on, it will take you as far as a place called Coesfeld, then without warning (OK, I had my headphones in but as far as I'm concerned there was NOT considerable warning) turn around and start going back the other way. If you then ask someone what just happened and why the train is no longer going to Dortmund, be prepared to not have any idea what they are saying to you because a week in Holland has rendered you incapable of speaking German.
If you then get off at the next stop in a panic to get on a train going back in the preferable direction, don't expect any signs or even a station to be present at this stop. The only available help at the stop I got off at was a board telling me when the next train claiming to go to Dortmund would get there, and a pakistani man who didn't speak German and really did not speak good enough English for me to have a clue what he was trying to say (he also claimed he spoke French but looked at me blankly when I tried to explain my problem en francais).
Turns out there was a rail replacement bus (SEV Bus, which could really stand for anything) from Coesfeld. I worked this out from reading a very complicated sign on the train; there was nothing to indicate this before I got on the train and really, who reads signs on trains anyway? Germany is out to confuse me.
********
This is taking me a bloody long time to write. It has been a busy two weeks, after all, and I should really go to bed soon in preparation for the return of ridiculous early starts (and 2 hour working days, four days a week. Life is an uphill struggle).
On Thursday night, myself and Joe Chaplin travelled to Aachen to visit Sophie and Ali; we tried to go out to club called B9 for 'euro night', which was actually where drinks cost a euro, rather than being some sort of eurotrash/eurovision type party. Unfortunately, we had opted to 'pre-drink', a common concept in the UK. In Germany, it seems you cannot turn up to a club drunk and expect to be allowed in, rather than the usual UK attitude of letting you in as long as you can stand reasonably well with minimal assistance and are capable of holding up your ID.
I'll leave you with the knowledge that I don't like Queen and I don't really like X Factor, but I seem to be watching a girl wearing some seriously strange headwear, singing a Queen song on X Factor. Maybe it is time I went back to work.
Dora.
xxx
Muenster Oktoberfest proved almost as amazing as actual Oktoberfest and also proved that Dave Wateridge can always be trusted to provide us with a decent Germ night out, as well as being trusted to get wasted, naked, sick and chucked out by security. Oh, and according to the adverts now found all over Muenster, he also gives 'die beste blasen'.
Other ferien trips included me, Pippa and Bertpfeif discovering Bochum Stadtpark which was a bit lovely, and also me and Pippa being tourists around Koeln. We climbed the Dom. It's a nice Dom, I think it's my favourite building in the world.
Our holiday in Amsterdam (our Holidam or Damoliday) was pretty special. Pedaloing was a highlight, even though it rained. To be fair, after seeing Blink 182 in the rain over summer, I'm starting to think rain can actually improve things, or at the very least make a situation a bit more jokes. We also sampled some clubbing; once accompanied by some 16 year old German children at a club full of strange pervy men, then the next night to a pretty special (probably gay, pirate-themed) bar, where Max experienced some random guy trying to snog him without permission, and Pippa got enclosed in a circle of guys. It was a rapey sort of place...in a fun way...
After Dam, I went to Wijhe where I was looked after and cooked for by my Oma for two nights, and got to hang out with my Mum, Dad and sister. My mum brought me over a suitcase full of awesome stuff I missed from home, like posters and blutac and baked beans. My sister brought me some chocolate covered ants.
I had a bit of a mare coming back from Holland. Disclaimer for the benefit of all Germs: just because a train says on the front that its final destination is Dortmund Hbf, does not mean it will necessarily go all the way to Dortmund Hbf. If it's anything like the train I got on, it will take you as far as a place called Coesfeld, then without warning (OK, I had my headphones in but as far as I'm concerned there was NOT considerable warning) turn around and start going back the other way. If you then ask someone what just happened and why the train is no longer going to Dortmund, be prepared to not have any idea what they are saying to you because a week in Holland has rendered you incapable of speaking German.
If you then get off at the next stop in a panic to get on a train going back in the preferable direction, don't expect any signs or even a station to be present at this stop. The only available help at the stop I got off at was a board telling me when the next train claiming to go to Dortmund would get there, and a pakistani man who didn't speak German and really did not speak good enough English for me to have a clue what he was trying to say (he also claimed he spoke French but looked at me blankly when I tried to explain my problem en francais).
Turns out there was a rail replacement bus (SEV Bus, which could really stand for anything) from Coesfeld. I worked this out from reading a very complicated sign on the train; there was nothing to indicate this before I got on the train and really, who reads signs on trains anyway? Germany is out to confuse me.
********
This is taking me a bloody long time to write. It has been a busy two weeks, after all, and I should really go to bed soon in preparation for the return of ridiculous early starts (and 2 hour working days, four days a week. Life is an uphill struggle).
On Thursday night, myself and Joe Chaplin travelled to Aachen to visit Sophie and Ali; we tried to go out to club called B9 for 'euro night', which was actually where drinks cost a euro, rather than being some sort of eurotrash/eurovision type party. Unfortunately, we had opted to 'pre-drink', a common concept in the UK. In Germany, it seems you cannot turn up to a club drunk and expect to be allowed in, rather than the usual UK attitude of letting you in as long as you can stand reasonably well with minimal assistance and are capable of holding up your ID.
I'll leave you with the knowledge that I don't like Queen and I don't really like X Factor, but I seem to be watching a girl wearing some seriously strange headwear, singing a Queen song on X Factor. Maybe it is time I went back to work.
Dora.
xxx
Donnerstag, 7. Oktober 2010
Fuck it, it's Bochum drum and bass, what you gonna do?
I bet you've all missed me.
Since my last entry I have actually had quite a good week. At the weekend, me, Glen and Heidi tried out Bochum clubbing again, and it was just as successful as last time. Clubbing in Germany seems to be a bit like going back in time. It's really really 90s. We requested Jason Derulo a couple times but of course because it's the 90s they nodded along while thinking, why are they requesting songs that haven't been written yet? Surely they just want to hear Barbie Girl again...
The worst part of clubbing was bumping into pupils I have obviously taught at some point because they were all like, "OMG hello!!" (but auf Deutsch, natuerlich). I did not remember who any of them were but I'm clearly a memorable language assistant. They all probably think I'm a complete nutter now (if they didn't already), because Germans don't really seem to dance and I definitely dance, in a dodgy, drunk, English sort of way.
I also saw Pendulum in the same club, yesterday night. Oh my god it was awesome. Last time I saw them was at Milton Keynes Bowl, capacity: 60,000. This time, it was at Zeche, capacity: 300. I touched the lead singer's hand. It was so exciting! I almost passed out towards the end though, clearly not as hardcore as necessary for German gigs. They also seem to frown upon asking for tap water in Germany. Not great when you can barely stand and are clearly very dehydrated through a combination of wine and tanzen.
Pippa and Marina are coming to visit this weekend; I have been searching NRW for an airbed for them to sleep on. Leider, these don't seem to exist in Germany, but I've heard rumours that some of the Moroccan guys in my flat have a spare mattress so I might have to go ask them nicely to borrow it. Assuming I can sort out somewhere for them to sleep, we are going to enjoy Bochum and the surrounding area, and also go to Muenster for some more Oktoberfest fun apparently. This is exciting, maybe I should wear my Oktoberfest T-shirt again (referring to my white t-shirt with 'massive slag' scrawled across the front in highlighter pen). And we're going to Amsterdam in less than a week, but I want it to be sooner.
Dora.
xxx
Since my last entry I have actually had quite a good week. At the weekend, me, Glen and Heidi tried out Bochum clubbing again, and it was just as successful as last time. Clubbing in Germany seems to be a bit like going back in time. It's really really 90s. We requested Jason Derulo a couple times but of course because it's the 90s they nodded along while thinking, why are they requesting songs that haven't been written yet? Surely they just want to hear Barbie Girl again...
The worst part of clubbing was bumping into pupils I have obviously taught at some point because they were all like, "OMG hello!!" (but auf Deutsch, natuerlich). I did not remember who any of them were but I'm clearly a memorable language assistant. They all probably think I'm a complete nutter now (if they didn't already), because Germans don't really seem to dance and I definitely dance, in a dodgy, drunk, English sort of way.
I also saw Pendulum in the same club, yesterday night. Oh my god it was awesome. Last time I saw them was at Milton Keynes Bowl, capacity: 60,000. This time, it was at Zeche, capacity: 300. I touched the lead singer's hand. It was so exciting! I almost passed out towards the end though, clearly not as hardcore as necessary for German gigs. They also seem to frown upon asking for tap water in Germany. Not great when you can barely stand and are clearly very dehydrated through a combination of wine and tanzen.
This is not zoomed in. Proud :)
Pippa and Marina are coming to visit this weekend; I have been searching NRW for an airbed for them to sleep on. Leider, these don't seem to exist in Germany, but I've heard rumours that some of the Moroccan guys in my flat have a spare mattress so I might have to go ask them nicely to borrow it. Assuming I can sort out somewhere for them to sleep, we are going to enjoy Bochum and the surrounding area, and also go to Muenster for some more Oktoberfest fun apparently. This is exciting, maybe I should wear my Oktoberfest T-shirt again (referring to my white t-shirt with 'massive slag' scrawled across the front in highlighter pen). And we're going to Amsterdam in less than a week, but I want it to be sooner.
Dora.
xxx
Freitag, 1. Oktober 2010
"Blow Job is better than no job"...?
The title is a slogan I read on a 13 year old boy's hoodie today at school, in English. Offended would be the wrong word...I didn't find it 'offensive' exactly (actually thought it was quite funny) but I did wonder if this kid's parents knew what it meant and didn't mind him parading around with that written on him. If they don't know...lol. If they do...even more lol.
At school I still do minimal work, chat a bit of English, talk some poorly structured German to teachers and generally walk around between lessons trying to look like I know where I'm going. I don't really have a place to go at break times and I'm starting to wish the school was smaller. There are Lehrerzimmers in every building, but each Lehrer has an assigned place; I don't, because I'm not a Lehrer. And every time I've walked into one of these rooms, I've had most people ask something to the effect of 'yes, can I help you?' because no one knows who I am.
My mentor said she would call me yesterday to see how I'm getting on, but she didn't; cue same crushing feeling of rejection I got from being stood up for lesson planning time by 3 teachers in one day last week. My school don't seem that bothered about what I'm doing, therefore I'm not that bothered either. This job is easier than I imagined.
Actual job aside, I decided today that I am proud of myself. I have lived in Germany for nearly 3 weeks now and I don't want to go home yet. Being the youngest (associated character traits: irresponsible and attention-seeking...sounds about right), I get the impression my family don't really think of me as an adult; e.g. when I told my sister I was going to Hamburg for a few days in the summer with my friends, she asked if an adult was going with us. But maybe after living abroad for a year I will have successfully convinced her (and myself) I am actually a real person now. I'm off to Rewe to buy milk; I think it's pronounced ray-vay, but I prefer calling it rew-a. It's nice weather outside, maybe I can finally wear my leopard-print sunglasses. Yay.
Dora.
xxx
At school I still do minimal work, chat a bit of English, talk some poorly structured German to teachers and generally walk around between lessons trying to look like I know where I'm going. I don't really have a place to go at break times and I'm starting to wish the school was smaller. There are Lehrerzimmers in every building, but each Lehrer has an assigned place; I don't, because I'm not a Lehrer. And every time I've walked into one of these rooms, I've had most people ask something to the effect of 'yes, can I help you?' because no one knows who I am.
My mentor said she would call me yesterday to see how I'm getting on, but she didn't; cue same crushing feeling of rejection I got from being stood up for lesson planning time by 3 teachers in one day last week. My school don't seem that bothered about what I'm doing, therefore I'm not that bothered either. This job is easier than I imagined.
Actual job aside, I decided today that I am proud of myself. I have lived in Germany for nearly 3 weeks now and I don't want to go home yet. Being the youngest (associated character traits: irresponsible and attention-seeking...sounds about right), I get the impression my family don't really think of me as an adult; e.g. when I told my sister I was going to Hamburg for a few days in the summer with my friends, she asked if an adult was going with us. But maybe after living abroad for a year I will have successfully convinced her (and myself) I am actually a real person now. I'm off to Rewe to buy milk; I think it's pronounced ray-vay, but I prefer calling it rew-a. It's nice weather outside, maybe I can finally wear my leopard-print sunglasses. Yay.
Dora.
xxx
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