Misinterpretations: nicht gut Deutsch

I will admit that I earned straight A's in the equivalent of three semesters of high school German. Further, I will admit that I did quite well in another three semesters of German courses at Pacific Lutheran University. Additionally, I will admit that I spent January of 2003 in German-speaking countries. Lastly, I will admit that my German is very poor. In the time that I have been in Magdeburg my language skills have improved significantly, but not so much as to avoid awkward misunderstandings and funny looks. Here are a few of my "lost in translation" experiences.

Early in my stay here, I tried to mail a post card to my pals at the Wild Wonders Outdoor Theater in Tacoma. When I got to the post office I first thought I was a complete moron because I could not figure out how to open the door to get into the post office. Noticing my puzzlement, a lady behind the glass doors started calling something to me in German. She was yelling through the door "Zu! Zu!" As far as I knew, "zu" was a preposition meaning "to" (as in, Suzanne failed TO send the post card). Later I remembered that "zu" also is a word for "closed" (as in, Suzanne stop trying to open the door, the post office is CLOSED!) And that is why WWOT zookeepers have yet to receive their post card.

Another mistake I made that was more from cultural confusion than a language barrier happened after I learned that Germans shake hands all the time. Every morning when employees arrive at work, they shake hands; kids meeting on the tram shake hands, and sometimes people shake hands when they say goodbye. Americans have a very limited number of situations where hand-shaking is encouraged, so I had trouble knowing when to extend my hand to anyone. To add to the confusion, there are some Germans who don't like the tradition of shaking hands and will not offer a handshake, and there are some who know enough about America to know that culturally we do not shake hands every day and they will NOT offer to shake my hand. So one day when I was leaving the zoo after spending the day with a very kind keeper and he extended his hand, saying something very quickly in German, I shook his hand. He repeated the sentence and extended his hand again. That time, I paid better attention and understood that he was telling me I needed to return my keys...NOT trying to shake my hand. Oops.

Sometimes the mistakes are not from failure to understand the actual words, but from a failure to understand the meaning behind them. When I went to sign the contract for my new apartment, the agent attempted to make small talk with me IN ENGLISH. His English was not good. In German the word "do" isn't used as often as in English whereas the word for "make" is used more often. For instance if you want to know what someone's career is, you might ask literally, "What do you make?" Even though I knew this, the difference led to some slight confusion because the agent asked me in English, "What do you make at the zoo?" wanting to know what I DID at the zoo. I, having forgotten that the German agent might not understand the difference, answered, "About 2,000 Euro per month." Not what he was looking for.

I have even had a problem or two with the language when I am not speaking with anyone. In stores, I have to stare at the ingredients on containers of food for what probably seems like an inordinate amount of time to discern what the items actually are. Pictures on the boxes of food really help. I mostly have made good decisions regarding my edible purchases and can even read menus no problem. However, last week in an attempt to buy butter, I accidentally purchased what turned out to be a block of squishy, grey YEAST, which does not taste anything like butter. At all.

Lastly (just lastly for this post, not lastly overall, as I'm sure to make many further ridiculous errors with language), when another zookeeper asked me what kinds of wild cats I had previously cared for, I meant to say I cared for a lynx, but I am fairly certain that the word I actually said was "hole." Yes, earlier in my career, I used to care for...a hole.

Weihnachtsmarkt

In Germany around Christmas time, all the children get glassy-eyed and wistful thinking about a man and his reindeer magically gliding through the air and all the adults get glassy-eyed and wistful from wintertime drinks and festivities. To celebrate the season, every German town has its own Christmas market. When it was still the middle of November, unidentified little wooden buildings began appearing near my tram stop. They looked like little houses with fake snow on the roofs and real fir trees arranged beside them.

Each day more tiny houses appeared until finally on the 24th of November, Magdeburg's Christmas market began. Actually, since the market butts right up against my tram stop, I pretty much just stepped off the tram after work that day and was already at the market. So of course, I went. All of the little houses now had their front walls rolled up to expose displays of handmade candles, blown-glass ornaments, and homegrown fruits. Some of the little houses transformed into booths where children played games in hopes of winning silly prizes like Sponge Bob in a santa hat or Max and Moritz cell phone carriers. The whole town square shone with white lights, a huge tree stood in front of the (former) city hall, and Christmas music floated in from some unknown location. The statue of Otto von Guerike frowned down at the carusel, pony rides and a booth selling gemstones.

I searched for gifts for my friends and family among the crowds of people who were getting loud and merry from the specially stewed warm wine and eggnog concoctions. Around half the booths were selling food and drinks, making the whole square smell heavenly. Grills sizzled with bratwurst in more varieties than one would think possible, and a couple of booths offered some type of mushroom dishes. The Germans upheld their reputation for creating fantastic chocolate: they sold it by itself, drizzled over fruit, in heart shapes, on sticks, with nougat, nuts, or marzipan, in Christmas shapes, and any combination of the aforementioned.

The temperature was below freezing that evening, but with all the ovens fired up, the lights burning brightly and the closely packed Germans kicking off the holiday season together, I didn't feel chilly at all. On my way out of the market, I couldn't help but sample the goods from at least one of the booths contributing to the aroma. I chose the very last booth, which was selling something called schmaltzballkuchen (yeah, try to order THAT over the din of Bing Crosby, a game of balloon darts and a hot grill). I didn't even know what it was, but the smell from the booth suggested something sweet and warm. The woman in this little wooden house handed me a large paper cone filled with puffy balls of fried dough she had doused in powdered sugar. Mmmm...God bless her.

Snippets

1.) I told my first joke in German. Usually my translating is too slow or my grammar is too poor to say anything witty. But yesterday a keeper showed me the red-footed tortoise enclosure, and I noticed what appeared to be an avian nest-box about seven feet up the wire mesh wall. I pointed at it and said (in German of course), "Kinda hard for the tortoises to use that, isn't it?" See, it's funny because tortoises can't climb or use nest boxes...Right.

2.) Every radio station I have heard in Germany--in cafes, in zookeeper kitchens, at the Christmas market--plays music in English. The DJs still speak in German, but very rarely have I heard a song with German lyrics. The funniest part about these stations is that their draw comes solely from the fact that they play music in English, so it has nothing to do with the actual merit or genre of the music. In one set of songs I heard first the theme from "Ghost Busters" (appropo of nothing, since it wasn't Halloween), then the Temptations song from the 60's "The Way You Do the Things You Do," followed by the latest single from American Idol's newest flash in the pan. Also, I have never heard so much Phil Collins.

3.) I feel as thought the keepers I have been meeting have gotten exponentially harder to understand. First I worked with keepers who spoke slowly and clearly. Then I worked with keepers who spoke quickly and mumbled. This week I discovered the challenges of communicating with a keeper who has a speech impediment. No kidding.

4.) My homesickness is better, but I still have days where I wish for a little more familiarity. One day last week I was on break with the keepers and one of them cleared her throat. Suddenly I missed my mom. My mom has a very individualized throat-clearing "ahem," and somehow Frau Driechciarz's (yeah, say that even ONE time quickly...) throat-clearing sounded close enough that it made me think of my mom.

5.) When referring to me in conversation, the zoo employees don't know what to call me. In German it is friendlier to call co-workers by their first names and address them using the informal grammatical structure. At the same time, it is often very impolite to use someone's first name if you don't know them well. If you can read my blog, you already know that English has no corresponding rule. None of the keepers know what to call me. To avoid being discourteous when saying things like, "I'm taking Suzanne with me today" or being stand-offish and saying, "I'm taking Frau Akerman with me today," the keepers instead refer to me as "die kleine Amerikanerin" sometimes. Literally this translates to "the little American." I will overhear, "Let the little American do that, you go muck the zebra stalls" or "The little American and I are done with the giraffees for the day."

6.) Some of the German keepers are interested in hearing me speak in English or in learning English words, and this is a great opportunity to create some comeraderie. This week I had the whole department roaring with laughter about the English word "squeegee."


A few quotes from my days here in Germany:


"She doesn't talk with a potato in her mouth!" An administrative assistant at the zoo (in German). She explained that native-German speakers make fun of American accents by saying we talk like we all have hot potatoes in our mouths.

"Your accent strong, but I unnerstand, so good job anyway," waiter with a faux-hawk (in English). Thanks, dude.

"Is it....a crocodile?" Four-year-old Paul (in German) when I drew him an ANT-EATER!

Ever try to catch a fifteen-pound turkey?

Living in a country that has no history of peace-making between pilgrims and Native Americans means that no one here gives a hoot about Thanksgiving day. In Germany we will all be toiling away as usual on the American holiday, and I will be taking a train to nearby Braunschweig to give a presentation on our zoo kindergarten at a conference. The chances of stumbling upon a turkey dinner in Braunschweig are pretty slim. I will miss the yams and apples--oh, and of course the company. This weekend I did enjoy a homecooked Malaysian meal prepared by our other English-speaking teacher, who actually comes from Malaysia. We ate the traditional meal of rice, spicy chicken, boiled eggs and vegetables the in the traditional Malaysian style as well, which means no utensils. It was fantastic.

With no holiday neatly nestled between Halloween and Christmas, the Germans start anticipating Santa and his reindeer before November hits double digits. Here in Magdeburg Winter came as suddenly as the Christmas season. The relatively mild temperature dropped to below freezing several days ago and has just begun to crawl back up. For two straight days snow fell in huge flakes without sticking and by the third day, perserverence prevailed; an inch of snow covered on the ground and still has not melted completely.

As my fellow zookeepers know, although the snow is beautiful and serene, it isn't exactly a keeper's best friend. Hose nozzles freeze, animals' water dishes freeze, and keeper's fingers freeze. This week I was involved in the task of moving some of the animals to their new, better insulated winter homes. Storks and turkeys were next on the list. How are storks and turkeys transported to their winter homes, you ask? Let me tell you...

Sometimes during the course of my days with keepers (thanks to my still somewhat lacking language skills), I have NO idea what is going on. Occasionally I jump on the back of the keeper cart with everyone else and think to myself, "Gee, I wonder where we're going? And what will we do when we get there?" In this case, the answers were that we were going to the exhibit with the storks and turkeys and once we got there, we were going to chase them into corners and grab them. Apparently this is how one moves storks and turkeys. After a lot of flapping and gobbling, I ended up hugging a rotund male turkey to my side, with his long tail feathers fanned out in my face. And he was heavy. We rode the keeper cart to the new enclosure, and any visitors who happened to catch a glimpse of the cart at that moment would have seen quite a sight--five zookeepers, each with huge birds tucked under their arms. Gert, who was carrying a stork, called over his should to me, "Now don't even think about eating him, American!" The thought had not crossed my mind.

Around the Zoo

Although I have many anecdotes from my personal life to relay, (like how I just got the internet yesterday, or how I have twice now pretended not to understand German in order to avoid men who were asking me out) I feel as though I have been neglecting explaining the animal side of my job. So here is a smattering of my experiences at the Magdeburg zoo.

I think it is fair to generalize that zookeepers the world over are not people people. That's why they work with animals. The Magdeburg zoo is full of keepers who have been keeping for decades; they are staunch, no-nonsense professionals, not all of whom are thrilled to have me around because I represent a changing tide not all are ready for. These keepers like to stay behind the scenes and while they take wonderful care of their animals and exhibits, they have no desire to do presentations or speak with the public. I completely expected this, and I know enough about zookeepers to know that the way to their hearts is through their animals. For the most part the keepers didn't know what to do with me at first. I have been spending time following other keepers around in order to get an idea of how the whole zoo runs so I can work with as many of the animals as I will fit into the kindergarten curriculum. It is time-consuming and means that there is always something new. On one of my first days doing this, I followed a man with piercing blue eyes and an earring. He said almost nothing while we worked and then suddenly after three hours of cleaning enclosures side-by-side, he said "Ich heisse Rene." I was so shocked that he was addressing me that my reply was the German version of, "Uh...what?" He repeated himself and this time I understood. After three hours of working with me, this man finally said, "My name is Rene." I said, "I am Suzanne. Nice to meet you."

Ususally I do not get to participate in veterinary procedures, but I have had the opportunity to be present for a few. One day I happened just by chance to see three. First one of our kangaroos (don't worry, Mom, it's a small kind, not the six-foot red kangaroos you're thinking of) had an abcess that needed to be treated. I helped restrain the kangaroo, which stood only about three and a half feet tall, but of course that thing could KICK. Fortunately the veterinarian speaks English well and could tell me exactly what to do. The soft, thick fur surprised me because from a distance kangaroos look smooth and sleek to me, not fluffy. But upon closer inspection, this kangaroo had plush fur and very athletic muscle density. The second procedure that day was a treatment for a green iguana that needed an x-ray. The green iguana, being much smaller and less active than a kangaroo, seemed like it should be a cinch after what we went through with the thrashing, spindley kangaroo. I was wrong. First, two keepers climbed trees in the iguana exhibit, which was precarious enough, but to add a further element of danger, the one who grabbed the iguana then had to climb back down without being bitten by the iguana who was acting very much like a frantic fish out of water, flapping his whole body all over the place. Thanks to good forsight the keeper was wearing leather gloves for this task; the iguana latched onto one glove so furiously that he could not be pried off. We took the x-rays with the glove still in the iguana's mouth.

The third veterinary procedure I watched that day was performed on a juvenille red river hog who had been bitten on his stomach by another hog. If you are not familiar with red river hogs, just imagine a warthog the color of an Irish setter and then imagine he has giant ears with bushy tufts of hair on the ends. Now imagine that there is a large, stoic German man sweet talking this little pig while petting the anxious animal from six feet away using a broom. Really, this was genius. The vet needed to see the underside of the hog, but because he was injured, the hog wanted nothing to do with this and barked and snapped when the vet came near. So, to calm the little guy down, the vet took a broom and stroked the pig to quiet him enough that he would allow someone to get a good look at his wound. I don't think the sweet talking had any effect, but it was funny to hear.

Some observations abbreviated for the sake of time:

Asiatic lions are SCARY. Unlike African lions, who often are calm and tolerant, Asiatic lions are very aggressive toward keepers. The male at Magdeburg emits a deep rumble from his chest constantly if keepers are near, and every now and then he lunges at the gates, bellowing like the innocuous MGM lion would sound if you accidentally had your TV volume turned up way too loud. Even when I knew he was going to pounce toward us, it was difficult to ignore the gut reaction to run away, back up, or at least wince. This animal is a perfect example of why a forgetful keeper is a dead keeper. We check all our locks three times. Always.

The Germans desire for order extends beyond punctual transportation to their zookeeping. The German keepers have (what I think is) a strange compulsion to clean the outdoors. On more than one occasion I have had a German zookeeper follow behind me and re-rake places I have already raked. Don't they know more leaves will fall tomorrow? At the same time, I seem to clean the indoors TOO thoroughly for them. They always stop me and tell me it's good enough.

Wubbo is a 22-year-old chimpanzee. He likes people-watching, bananas, blowing kisses and plastic containers. Also, Wubbo likes me. The keeper who raised him, Sonja, spoke with me (in German) about this. After I had worked all day in the ape house she said, "Wubbo likes you. He doesn't like everyone, you know. Sometimes a new intern or trainee or anyone comes in and he gets very upset. He lets you watch him eat. With you he is very calm." Wubbo has diabetes and let me watch while Sonja tested his blood sugar. When Wubbo was finished, he received a pear for his cooperation and his mate, Nana, who does not have any blood sugar condition but wanted a pear of her own, offered her foot to be pricked and tested as well. Sonja obliged and Nana ate her pear.

At Magdeburg zoo there is always some kind of poop to be stepping in. It is not a matter of if but a matter of when, what kind, and how much. I do not reccommend Asiatic buffalo.

In my previous zookeeping work, I had to do a lot of chopping up of small rodents, chicks and horse meat. After a while a zookeeper doesn't think twice about snipping off tails and heads and doesn't ever cringe at the cracking of tiny spines. But I never had to actually slaughter the animals myself. They always came in compact frozen bags. The Magdeburg zoo raises all of its prey animals and feeds fresh meat to the carnivores, which means of course that someone has to kill the meat first. In the middle of our day, Sonja explained to me that we had to go to the kitchen to get the food for the animals. This meant that the sweet lady who wanted me to tell her all the names for our cleaning tools in English was going to bash in the heads of a line-up of 30 small animals. And she did.

When I started working in Germany in September the weather was beautiful. Today it snowed. It was the Seattle type of snow where nothing stuck because the ground was too wet, but it became suddenly evident that winter is here. The zoo provided me with a uniform to wear so I don't look like a random teacher jumping over fences into enclosures, but if the zoo's uniform stock is any indication, there has never been a Magdeburg zookeeper as small as me. Hence, my uniform is a spiffy matching set of hat, sweatshirt, polo shirt, khaki pants, thick winter coat and rubber boots, all several sizes too large. So, just picture all of the previous things I mentioned happened while I was wearing clown pants.

...Longer Stories Shorter

I sat in the Seatac airport trying not to cry and suddenly realized I needed to stop reading the book I was in the middle of because things were not looking good for the protagonist, and there would be no way I could contain myself if he were to die on page 245 while I was flying away from home. I managed to get myself onto the plane, but it was one of the worst planes rides I have experienced. Somehow the seats were smaller than any plan I have ridden and the man next to me seemed to require not only his own sixteen inches of seat, but at least three inches of my seat also. The worst part though was that pressure kept building in my ears. I don't know why this happened, but by the time we landed in Chicago, sounds floated to me like I was in a bubble and my ears ached terribly. In Chicago I found my connecting gate and asked an attendant if she had any tips to relieve this issue and she told me to chew gum. Considering the intensity of my problem, I thought this was silly, but I was willing to try anything. 

Back in the air a short time later, I realized gum would not solve my problem. My ears ached all the way to London and when the flight attendants asked me questions, I responded only based on the context, not because I heard anything they asked. I spent three or four hours in the London airport, but my stay there was surreal. Signs and lights swirled around me and I felt very much like I was underwater. If I sat still, the whole place spun like in the cartoons when Tom or Jerry used to get trapped in a keg and come out drunk. (They don't really have cartoons like that anymore, do they?) I had to concentrate to keep my balance and walking around reminded me of being on a ferry, where floors sway slowly beneath your feet. Somehow I made it to my gate for round three.

It is strange to me that the most homesick I have ever felt came over me just a day after I had been home. I would have expected that homesickness would creep up after many months abroad or at least many weeks away from family. Instead, it hit suddenly and hard, just hours after I had been at home. I fell into an exhausted sleep on my futon mattress on the floor. Sophie was glad to see me. 

Enough of self-pity and homesickness though. The children were glad to see me again, and I was glad to be back to help my Canadian co-worker, Shannon, with the workload. I found that some of the zoo employees had donated some house-hold goods to me. There was a bag with silverware and a couple of sheets in it, which I accepted gratefully (not mentioning the fact that I had no bed as yet to put sheets on). I also accepted a frying pan and two casserole dishes (again not mentioning that I have never in my life baked a casserole and have no plans to do so). 

The animals were the same as always. This job is different than what I am used to in that I do not work consistently with the same animals. I see some of them on a daily basis, but I am not always doing the handling or the keeping and some days I am doing both. Since the keepers speak hardly any English, the language barrier is always an obstacle. I guess that is why it is called a barrier. Yesterday as I was riding in the keeper cart (like a golf cart, but for keepers to ride around in and tote their keeper tools etc.) I was getting to know two keepers I had not worked with before. We had just finished cleaning some of the hoofstock enclosures, llamas, reindeer, and a couple species of wild cattle, and we needed to take our wagon full of debris to be dumped in the compost pile across the zoo. The other two keepers had a discussion about the vehicle that I could not entirely follow because I could not remember what the word "bremse" meant. We all hopped in the cart and Frank drove off toward the administration building. As we approached, I thought, "wow, I would not be going this fast. Does he always drive like this?" A couple of administration employees dodged us. We came to the edge of the zoo and stopped. Frank bowed his head and as we all hopped out of the cart, I remembered what "bremse meant. Brakes. Something was wrong with the BRAKES on the vehicle. Fortunately we all survived and knowing what I do now, I would say Frank is an exceptional driver.

I will try not to be remiss in my blogging, but I don't want to make any promises. 

...Long Stories Short

One of the problems with blogging or journaling is that at a certain point, the writer always falls behind and has to play catch-up until the writing coincides with real time. In my case, evidently, it took about ten posts for me to fall behind.

Firstly, I stayed one night in my new apartment before flying home to the Pugeot Sound area for the wedding of my dear friend Sharmarie and her (now) husband, Troy. I was so excited to fly home that I hardly slept. Also, since I had only a futon mattress on hardwood flooring for a bed, it was a rather uncomfortable and chilly night. The next morning I got up and showered, realizing that my shower leaks water all over the bathroom floor. I remained unphased, since I was so thrilled to be going to visit everyone. According to my itinerary, I was to fly to Frankfurt, then Chicago, and then Seattle. Not ideal, but it would get me there. I had booked this itinerary through a website called Vayama, and had received an email from them two weeks before I was going to leave. The email stated that there had been changes to my flights and that I needed to call Vayama. I used my phone card at a phone booth to call, and was relieved when the woman told me that my first flight had been moved to a later time. I asked this woman three times if my connecting flights still worked. It was my only concern in this conversation. Three times the agent assured me that my connections worked.

So, that morning I walked to the train station and expertly figured out which platform to stand on, then which stop to get off at, and then which bus to take to get to the airport. I arrived at the Berlin airport almost three hours early, an entirely unnecessary precaution, since it is not a huge international type of airport where a traveler might have to go through a lot more security or wait in long lines everywhere. I bought some gummi candy and was feeling pretty good. The flight to Frankfurt was uneventful and only about an hour. Then everything exploded. I got to the ticket counter where British Air told me I needed to go to American Airlines, even though my ticket said "British Air" on it. American Airlines told me I had missed my flight. They said it took off the same minute that my plane landed from Berlin. Being a normal individual, unfortunately bound by all the limits of the time/space continuum, there was no way I would ever have been able to catch that plane. American Airlines said they couldn't help me and I had to go back to British Air. By this time I was nearly in tears, but hanging on to the hope that there would be still some way to get to Seattle that night. The woman at the British Air counter was adamant that she could do nothing except book me for the same flight the next day. I cried. Not the messy, sobbing kind of crying, but just the kind where a person appears composed while little tears slid down their cheeks. While I cried I asked about taking flights anywhere in the whole US and then connecting to Seattle, and about taking trains to nearby European cities to catch flights to Seattle--ANYTHING to get me there. But the woman, although very nice, was not into my method of problem solving and booked me to fly to Chicago the next day.

Twenty-four hours is not all that long. For the first four hours, I sat in a chair watching travelers being greeted by their friends and families at the arrival gate. Four hours was all I could handle of this because it made me sad, since I was not going to be greeted at my arrival point until a day later. I played a game where I tried not to look at my watch for as long as possible. I bought a sandwich. Airport food is expensive and I had only about 20 Euros with me, so I had to use it very sparingly. For the next couple of hours I looked at every single shop in the Frankfurt airport and very carefully budgeted how much I could spend on a book. I sat in the Starbucks for three hours. I could not afford to buy anything, but I was determined to do the most American things possible. When hunger took over, I bought a Happy Meal from the McDonald's. By this time it was already nearly midnight (not quite halfway through my stay at the airport) so I tried to sleep. I tried to sleep in about eight different places in the airport. I mostly failed.

Since I am sure that reading about someone else's twenty-four hours in an airport is about as interesting as actually spending twenty-four hours at an airport, I will not retell the play-by-play any further. I was so glad to fly out the next day. The plane ride to Chicago was about nine hours, but after spending a whole day in an airport, nine hour s on a plane was no problem. I was nervous about my connection in Chicago, but only because I had just missed a connection, not because there was any real reason to worry. I basically sprinted through O'hare. Finally I was on a plane that was landing in Seattle. An entire twenty-four hours late, I landed and met Jared at baggage claim. Whew.

I had not been away from the Pugeot Sound area for long, and while I was in Germany I had not really missed anything American. But once I was surrounded by things like Starbucks and Target and familiar streets, I loved being home. I loved being able to chat with the cashier at the coffee shop without expending a huge amount of effort to understand her or to be understood. I loved being able to ask a question ("Do you have eggnog lattes yet?) without having to phrase the sentence carefully in my mind and repeat it to myself several times before speaking. Most of all, I loved seeing people I know and love.

My first day in town was spent doing a little shopping and a lot of eating and then going to the wedding rehearsal. Sharmarie was radiant, if a little stressed, and if the power had gone out we could have found our way around using Troy's glow. We all went to Sharmarie's father's house for the rehearsal dinner afterward and it was nice just to hear so many people conversing in native English! The next day was entirely wedding. Don picked me up and we first had a healthy breakfast at Sherry's before spending the afternoon doing last-minute preparations. As tends to be the case with weddings, we were running behind schedule and everything seemed on the brink of falling apart, but when 5:45 rolled around we were lined up and suddenly everything was fine. The chanter began to sing and the service proceeded beautifully. Then we partied.

I had only one more day in town, so I made the most of it by gathering (well, really the credit goes to my mom here; she organized it all) my family together for lunch. Her husband Arnold made his famous enchiladas, and even my aunt and uncle from Bellingham drove down for the occasion. Originally I thought it was a little silly to get everyone together when I had really only been out of the country for about six weeks. I mean, how much could they really have missed me in six weeks anyway? But maybe it was more for my benefit, because I certainly was glad to see everyone, and be reminded that the same people I know and love are still out there somewhere, even if I am spending my time in a foreign place where I don't know anyone.

My mom took me to the airport the next day, and I tried to hide it, but I was feeling much sadder about leaving this time than I had when I left the first time in the middle of September. The first time I was excited to see new things and do new things and I didn't know what was in store for me. This time, I knew what I was going back to, and as much as I like it here...well, it just isn't home.

Give me shelter

In addition to working hard and having a lot of help from knowledgable people, I have also gotten along here on a good deal of pure unadulterated luck. 

For my first six weeks in Magdeburg I have lived in a (temporary) gorgeous apartment with a huge bathtub, a fantastic view, and a whole bathroom just for Sophie. I managed to negotiate a great bargain on rent for this place, but it also came with free TV and utilities too. So, when looking for a new place, I assumed I would be taking a big step down. Even searching for new accomodations in the U.S. can be a grueling undertaking, as everyone knows, but add in the difficulty of a language barrier and you have the potential for disaster. 

When surfing the internet for available apartments, I found only ads and sites in German, of course. Had my German been good enough to call and contact the landlords in the first place, I still would have had the obstacle of not owning a phone with which to call anyone. On top of that, apartments here are different than apartments in the U.S. I discovered this when I visited my first empty apartment and was less than impressed. On the way to the apartment the landlord kept telling me about the refrigerator, which struck me as odd. What was so great about a fridge? And was the apartment really so shabby that the fridge was the most exciting thing? Upon entering the apartment, I realized the fridge was a selling point because it was the only thing in the kitchen. There was no stove, no microwave, and only a couple of cupboards. I did not tell the landlord I thought this was really strange because I did not know how to broach the subject politely and my German is no where near good enough for tact. 

The manager of the EU project I work for explained to me that apartments that are unfurnished (unlike my temporary one, which was furnished completely) usually apartments in Europe do not come with a kitchen. Sometimes they don't even come with light fixtures, and they never come with closets. This meant that when I moved, I needed to buy myself a whole kitchen. Those of you who know how domestic I am and how much I love cooking are probably laughing right now. And really it would be the perfect excuse for never cooking--to not even own a kitchen. But that is not very practical, even for me. 

So I scoured the city for suitable places to live and mostly came up empty-handed, but my trusty project manager helped me out again and we found a few apartments worth looking at. There was even one where the previous owner was offering to sell me her furniture, which seemed great! We went to look at the place right away, but when we buzzed to be let into the building, no one said anything over the intercom. The door opened anyway. We were greeted on the other side of the door not by the girl who owned the apartment, but a cheery Jack Russel terrier. He ran up the stairs to the first landing and we followed. He repeated the same antic twice more and then ran inside one of the apartments. This was the place we had come to look at. 

The current ownder's incredible interior decorating in addition to the hard wood flooring, a furnished kitchen, a balcony, and a central location convinced me. This would be a great place to live. During the course of our conversation though, it became clear we were visiting the wrong apartment. The very polite owner was indeed moving out, but was taking everything with her, kitchen and all. When we spoke to the owner of the correct apartment though, we discovered she wanted 2,400Euros for her furniture. Impossible. 

After another four days of searching, I got an email from the owner of the Jack Russel terrier and the adorable apartment. She had decided to leave the whole kitchen, and the rent was LESS than previously advertised. A few days later, thanks to a curious little dog, I signed a contract to make the adorable apartment, kitchen and all, my own. (The Jack Russel wasn't part of the deal though--he left with his owner.) Today I got the key and the landlord even put my name on the mailbox outside the building. It reads erroneously, "Akermann." Every German who has tried to spell my last name is convinced that there should be another "n" at the end. To top it off, the terrier's owner and her pal who met with me to sign the papers offered to stop by and check up on me to help me with things like getting electricity, internet and more furniture. So I have acquired an apartment and possibly some new friends as well.

Not everything is going quite so smoothly as the apartment deal though. I have been sitting through a large number of meetings. I hate meetings. The meetings and all the running around town searching to keep a roof over my head have been cutting into the time I should be spending with children and animals. I feel I have not see quite enough of either for the past two weeks. Our last teammate has finally arrived from Malaysia though, and since she will be spending her whole work day with the children, that frees me up for a little more animal time each day (at least that is the plan). 

Despite my occasional absences, the children are finally warming up to me and growing accustomed to hearing English. The children are really picky about who they like, and it took me a whole five weeks to win them over. The animals were much easier. My favorite animal this week is Remy the rat. He looks like a big brown sewer rat, but is amazing in action. He is trained to do things that I would never have thought to train a rat to do. To demonstrate his intelligence for audiences, he sits on a platform that has a tiny bucket on a string hanging down. The trainer puts a treat in the tiny bucket and he pulls the string up until he can reach the bucket and the treat. It is not exactly a natural behavior, but it is neat to watch. When he is finished with this, his trainer taps her chest and Remy takes a huge (for a rat) flying leap from his platform onto his trainer. Seriously, he launches about three feet. What amazes me the most about Remy though, is the precise stimulus control the trainers have over him (for non-animal trainers, this just means he always does a behavior when asked and never does it when he hasn't been asked). When he is places in front of the obstacle course that he is trained to run, he doesn't move until his trainer cues him. Since I spent more time that one would have thought necessary to train a couple of rats to run at all, under any circumstances, let alone on cue, I marvelled. I will try to figure out how Remy was trained, but since I am still learning how to say things like, "yesterday I gave the anteater an avacado," discussing the intricacies of training is a little beyond me.

Meet the Press

Officially, the kick-off for the EU project that the zoo and kindergarten are involved in was October 1st. In celebration of this, the project managers invited all the local newspapers to come to the school on the 7th to see this project in action. We have been calling the project "Green Immersion," referring to the immersion method of teaching foreign languages and "green" referring to living an ecofriendly and eco-aware life. The lesson for that particular day was about snakes. My project partner, Shannon, is also a native English speaker; she comes from Canada. We were in charge of the lesson for the morning and were more than a little nervous. 

My first task was arranging for an actual snake to be present at this press conference/lesson. The boa constrictor from the Magdeburg Zoo is a well-behaved individual, but is so large that she can be difficult for one person to handle. I hefted her out of her enclosure (which is located inside of one of the keeper's offices, so she has no real exhibit) and put her in a burlap bag tied with twine from a bale of hay, and then put the bag into a big styrofoam box to retain heat. This was the official protocol for transporting the snake apparently. 

Back at the classroom, eight or ten journalists had congregated and listened raptly as the children sang a song about a snake along with a CD. Next I showed the kindergarteners pictures of snakes and explained things about this pictures entirely in English. The press took pictures of their own as I talked. "The snake in this picture is BLACK. What else can you find that is BLACK? Yes, Kathleen's socks are BLACK." After four pictures it was time for the kids to meet the real snake. She was extremely impressive extending out of her carrying case like when magicians pull colored scarves one after another out of their sleeves. More flashes from the journalists' cameras. Shannon demonstrated how to properly touch the snake and invited the first child to copy her. The kids loved it. Afterwards, I coiled the boa back into her big box and went with the journalists and project managers to another building where we discussed the project, our backgrounds, and our plans for the zoo/school partnership. 

The very next day we had a very similar appearance at the Ministry of the Environment where we presented our project and brought the snake too! All of the other presenters at the conference were nearly as enthralled as the kindergarteners. She really is impressive. 

Today I went for my usual Sunday run and found a stack of newspapers on the doorstep of my building when I returned. I figured I should take some time to try to improve my German by reading it, and also thought maybe there would be apartment listings to look at. When I sat down on my couch with my yogurt and granola and opened the paper, there I was. On page three of the Magdeburger Zeitung there was a quarter of a page photo of me with the snake and a few of the children. With some effort I could get the gist of the article. I found a similar article in the Saxon-Anhalt newspaper (that's the one for the state instead of the city).

To be honest, I wasn't as impressed as the journalists. After all, what they watched me do was just what I used to do all the time at my old job. I handle an animal and teach about it in English. Pretty simple. But apparently it's a big deal here. In a way, this is great news for me because I am a novelty, and experienced at doing something they think is really amazing. To top it all off, the local TV station is coming along on one of our zoo visits in the next couple of weeks to film us doing a very similar lesson with the baby giant anteater. If you have never seen a baby giant anteater, please take this time to google-image it immediately. You will not be disappointed. 

Exploring Magdeburg, part zwei

Long-time Magdeburg residents call the city a "town" and tell me I will quickly get bored of what Magdeburg has to offer, but this weekend I found plenty more new things to entertain myself. For the first time, I ventured into the mall. This hub of activity is not exceptionally large, but really very much like an American mall. It happened to be some sort of anniversary of the mall's opening that day, so unbeknownst to me, I went on a day when it would be guaranteed to be absolutely packed. There were all the usual mall things available, like bookstores, clothing stores, electronics stores and cell phone stores. Not only do Germans stand too close behind me in line, but they also walk too closely behind for my American personal-space bubble. In Germany it is the "in" thing to try to sell products by using English words and phrases. One store I enjoyed was "Clark Kent Clothing," and another was unceremoniously titled "Outfits." I looked inside, and indeed they were selling outfits. Also, when I bought Sophie cat litter, the brand name itself was "For Fur and Fun." Maybe they didn't know what the cat was going to do with the cat litter when they named it that...

One thing that even the pessimistic Magdeburgers can't deny is that Magdeburg is a very green city. There are many parks here, some so large they give the impression that one has left the city entirely. Since I still try to go for a run many days, I was hoping to find a park near my apartment to run in. I had tried running on the streets, but the dangers of bicycles and trams and pedestrians with canine companions were greater than they had been in Kent. I had noticed a stone wall surrounding what appeared to be a very lush park just a tram stop away from my apartment, so last week I walked over to look at what was labeled, "Neustaedter Friedhof." The first thing I came to was a small building that seemed to be a florist and I though how very strange for there to be a florist actually inside of a park. But when I walked just a little farther, I remembered what a "friedhof" is in German: it is a cemetery. I could just imagine if the Germans looked at me a little askance for running on the streets, the looks I would recieve for tearing through a cemetery. In my defense, this cemetery is more sylvan and densely foliated than any park I have ever been in. I don't know if this is standard for German cemeteries or if this one is unusual, but it was very different from any burial place I have seen. There were rows of graves, but each had it's own plot of land that was expertly tended. I assume the friends and families of the deceased designed the mini-gardens and cared for them, but the work invovled to cultivate the beautiful sites must have been pretty extensive. There were tiny fences and well-trimmed hedges along with fully blooming rose bushes, and every other type of plant imaginable. While I probably won't be going for a run there anytime soon, it was a very pleasant place for a quiet walk, and what better way to remember our loved ones than by growing something alive and beautiful in their memories?

Another way I have been exploring the city is though meeting more people and trying to make friends in both English and German. Last week I went to what the Germans refer to as a "Stammtisch" which is just a regular meeting of people. Usually there is some common insterest among the regulars; they might all be business majors, or all like to scuba dive etc. The stammtisch I attended was for anyone who wanted to speak English. The regulars were from a variety of countries: Ireland, Ukraine, The Netherlands, and of course, Germany. Already in a new part of town, at a new bar, talking to new people, I adventurously ordered "Alster," the name for the strange German concotion of Sprite and beer. Surprisingly, it was good. I don't know if it is something to run home and try to replicate (I am unsure what kind of beer they use or what the percentages are), but it might be worth a try. A college student studying English offered me a ride home because she lives near my apartment and I accepted thankfully (I wasn't sure how to get home from the bar because the trams run differently at night). She also was taking two of her friends with us, and when they got in the car one of them exclaimed, "We want to play Cash Cab!"  Without missing a beat, the driver responded, "You're in the cash cab! I'm Julia, the host of Cash Cab--a game show played entirely from the inside of this cab. Answer questions right to win cash; get them wrong and  you're back on the street!" A fan of the American version of Cash Cab, I followed this exchange and laughed. So we played, and fortunately, we were good at it so Julia didn't have to kick us out of her cash car. 

In addition to meeting people, of course I am also meeting animals. This week the elephant keeper took me to meet his two girls, who were each nearly forty years old and weighed in at around 10,000lbs! I had no idea I was going to meet the elephants actually; I had followed Michael through the back hallway of the elephants' house as he explained about the new building that will be constructed specially for their herd. We passed a concrete doorway (no door though) and as I passed, a trunk started to feel its way around the frame, and I discovered there were two elephants within reach of the hallway. One dipped her head down to look through the doorway at us, and Michael introduced me to them by handing me an apple. The trunk came through the doorframe and quite gently lifted the apple out of my hand and then quickly returned to search me for any more produce. Finding none, the elephant turned back to her hay and I gawked. I had never touched (or been touched by) an elephant. (Is that the name of a show: "Touched by an Elephant"...? No, I guess not) This place is full of firsts for me. 

Exploring Magdeburg

The people I meet who are from the city of Magdeburg tend to underscore the unappealing parts of this place. I have heard, "it's not pretty, but it's cheap" and "you can find everything you need in Magdeburg, but if you want nice things, do your shopping in Berlin" as well as comments like, "Magdeburg is practically country living" and "everything shuts down at 7pm because this place is full of senior housing." My theory about these people is that they live so close to so many bustling metropolises that in comparison, this city seems a little behind the times. To me though, Magdeburg is new and European and fascinating. 

There are statues around the city of famous people from Magdeburg, and of course there is there are occasional buildings that are centuries old. When I walk from my apartment toward the city center, I pass an opera house, a university campus, a part of the city that is pedestrian-only, two Turkish restaurants, and eventually come to an open-air market in front of the old government building. Of course, there are also cafes, dollar stores (Euro stores actually), florists, banks and all the ususal things one might come across walking in America. In my part of town grafiti is a problem though and any building that is left empty for any amount of time gets tagged. Despite this, I have never seen anyone on the street who looked like the type to deface property. I feel completely safe walking here, even when it is late, but then I never really felt I was in any danger living in the U.S. either. I have not seen one person here who appears to be homeless, but I read that the rate of unempoyment in Magdeburg is quite high. 

Today is reunification day in all of Germany. There was no school, so I took a long walk looking for apartments where I could take up permanent residence, since I have to leave my fabulous temporary apartment (The Germans who speak English all say "flat" instead of apartment). After a lot of wandering and site-seeing on foot, I came to the hub of the city where the open-air market usually takes place. I thought I might like to buy some more fruit, so I walked toward it, noticing something seemed a little strange. On Sundays and holidays the whole city shuts down. Knowing this, I expected to see very few people on the streets and all the shops closed, but instead there were tables set up and vendors out on the side-walks selling socks, handbags, jewelry and CDs. This was unusual to say the least. I turned the corner where I normally would find the carts where farmers sell their produce, but where the market stood last week was now an event reminiscent of the Puyallup fair. There was a stage with a big brass band, two carosels, games where boys were trying to win stuffed animals for their girlfriends, stands selling everything from crepes to donuts to fried fish, and booths of crafts for kids--all of this had sprung up directly in front of the old city hall. Strangest of all was the giant bungee bouncing ride that reminded me of those jumpers for babies that can be hung in doorways so the baby can jump all over. The difference was that these jumpers were a whole story high and situated right next to a somber statue of Magdeburg's most famous leader, Otto van Guerke (sp?).  I didn't have my camera handy at the time, but I would have liked a picture of teenagers in giant Johnny Jumpers right next to the frowning mayor statue; it was a fantastic juxtaposition. I still don't know why there was a fair in the city goverment square, but maybe it was part of the celebration for reunification day.

On an unrelated note, even though I was not unemployed in Washington state, I did not have health care. The very first building I entered in Magdeburg that was not my apartment was the office where I got health insurance. I am not sure how it works exactly, or if it's true that everyone has insurance even if they have no job, but I know that anyone legally employed has health care. This was pretty exciting for a person who hasn't had health care in three years. Then about a week ago (after I had been here only a week), I got a toothache. It was a tooth that had been bothering me earlier in the year, but had eventually the pain had stopped and I had forgotten about it. This time, the tooth did not let me forget. So I had to try to go to the dentist...in German. The first question I asked was how much this would cost. The girl behind the desk looked a little apologetic and said that she was sorry but I was going to have to pay a fee for the whole quarter year and the fee in now 10 Euros. I repeated, "Ten Euros? And then I can go to the dentist for the next three months, for free?" So I got my tooth fixed for 10 Euros. There was a funny pantomime where the dentist tried to ask me if I was pregnant (for x-ray purposes it's important), but she didn't know the English word and I didn't know the German. She also asked if I would like a shot for the pain while she worked. If?! IF?! Does anyone ever say NO? Of course I wanted her to give me something while she drilled! So she did.  Whew!

Trampletier

After six days of residing in Germany, I finally got to see the zoo where I will be working part of the time here. I got a whirlwind tour with the curator on Wednesday, which began when I walked to meet her by the administration building and came upon a lot of commotion, a huge semi truck, and a jumble of people talking quickly in German. The truck began to rock back and forth gently. The curator saw me, introduced herself and then explained there was a two ton rhino in the truck, being transferred to a zoo in England. The truck rocked some more. At the last minute the zoo also decided to send a zebra with the rhino apparently, so a forklift carrying a giant box drove down the path and carefully parked next to the truck where it took eight men to push the box into the truck. This was my introduction to the zoo.

Mostly for the rest of the tour we blew quickly past the exhibits and the curator pointed out which ones were being torn down and replaced or remodled (a lot of them). The zoo is reminiscent of Point Defiance several years ago when all the construction for new areas was going on. In Magdeburg there are plans for some great new exhibits, but it means that some of the animals need to be loaned out to other zoos whlie their new homes are being constructed, or they might even need to be permanently given to other zoos, so the list of animals I recieved before I arrived is already outdated. 

Though one rhino was being shipped out, there are still four rhinos here in Magdeburg and I was fortunate to get to spend a little time with them and their keeper (he speaks no English at all) who has worked at the zoo for over 30 years. I would not have guessed rhinos are...cuddly. I know that's anthropomorphic and all that, but really, they came up to the edge of their (don't worry Mom) REALLY well-reinforced stalls, and they liked to be scratched and patted and rubbed. Their skin feels strange and rubbery, almost inorganic. And their eyes are so very small for such large animals, which is of course why their eyesight is so bad, and why they are prone to being skittish. The male rhino reportedly weighs over three tons, and with their reputation I certainly did not expect them to be so good-natured. 

I got to do some other things at the zoo that were firsts for me this week as well. For one thing, I had never mucked a stall. At Northwest Trek where I was an intern, all the hoofstock roamed in a huge 430 acre area, so there were no stalls at all. The hoofstock in Magdeburg live in stalls, so lucky me! It was a good upperbody workout anyway. I am also pretty sure I have never seen a camel up close before. They are huge! The kind with two humps is called "trampletier" in German, which made me laugh because that translates directly to mean just an animals that stomps on things. The camels also were pretty good-natured and I have yet to see one spit. (I haven't been spit on by any llamas yet either.)

Some other animals of note here are 1) a very endangered and extremely ugly type of monkey that the curator admitted she chose to try to breed at Magdeburg because most zoos don't like to exhibit the homely and uncharismatic little things 2) a pack of Siberian Huskies, the first domesticated dogs I have ever seen on exhibit anywhere 3) itty-bitty mongooses so numerous they are like some sort of weasel swarm--very odd to me 4) a raven who, since ravens can mimic human sounds, speaks German. There are many more animals that are all worth discussing, but I have to leave something to write about next time!

In other news, the parents and kindergarten supervisors were quite concerned that I had no TV in my apartment (a travesty!), so they donated one to me. I would really much rather have internet access than a television, but I decided not to mention it and to graciously accepted the gift. Of course, it doesn't help much with lonliness or homesickness because the channels are German! But I do get CNN if I am really craving an English-speaking voice. I also can watch The Simpsons dubbed in German. I will probably watch the German channels anyway occasionally to help me to learn the language faster. I already find I understand more this week than last, and I hope that trend  continues.

I also discovered the reason that I encounter so many German people who do not speak English or who only speak very little. One of the keeper-apprentices who studied English before she decided to become a keeper explained that there is a great descrepancy between the number of Germans from former West Germany who speak English and the number from former East Germany. The more tourist-y parts of Germany are all in the west and south (former West Germany) and those areas have all been teaching English in their schools since just after WWII. These are the places Americans visit most and why we Americans have the impression that "everyone in Germany speaks English." In the east however, Russian was almost the only foreign language taught until the wall came down, and even after that it took some time for English language programs to get started. At the same time, I have been surprised by a few Germans who claim to speak no English. They will say something like, "Ich spreche kein Englisch" (I don't speak English) but then say something to me that is certainly English, like "Wait a moment" or "I'll come around" or "See you in the morning" to me. Many of the young people who say they speak no English actually mean that their English is about as good as my German is, which is pretty bad, but good enough to ask for things they need or string together a few meaninful sentences when necessary. The older people who say they speak no English, well, they mean it.

This weekend I am hoping to see a little more of Magdeburg, specifically the famous park on the Elbe river that is supposedly quite beautiful. It is colder here than I hoped and I am feeling a little sorry that I packed all of my warm clothes in the bag that I will not get to bring here until November when I come home for a few days. I hope I have not made a grievous packing error.

Victorious

I have several victories to report for the day:

First, I figured out how to wash my clothes. Yes, joke all you want about how I am not even domestic enough to do laundry--ha ha. Seriously, it was not easy. The German washing machine is small and functions as both the washer and dryer. Not surprisingly, the instructions are in German. This did not phase me, as my German skills (as well as my ability to decipher the heiroglyphics under the words) are adequate for this task. But no matter what button I pushed or knob I turned, no water would enter the machine. Yesterday in all I spent about half an hour trying to do laundry and then gave up. Today I asked one of the other teachers about this enigmatic machine. Apparently there is a valve tucked away someplace and it looks like something only plumbers should touch, and then only if your bathroom is flooding, but if you turn it,the water will go in. So today I turned the valve and did laundry!

Another victory for the day was getting a library card from the university here. I was able to not only find the library on a map and then get to it, I also was smart enough to bring all of my documentation with me as proof of residence. Then, with a little paperwork and some really poorly spoken German, I obtained the ability to check out books (mostly in German) and use the internet here!

Next on my plate was to buy a tram pass for a week. Again my mental mapping facilitated this and I found the small green stand in front of the McDonald's (McCafe!) where I bought a pass using no English. Then the police who make random checks on the tram to make sure no one sneaks on asked to see my ticket (the first time this has happened to me) and of course, I was able to show it to him.

The last victory, which was actually really appalling happened in the school at about 9am. Several children had arrived already and were seated in the morning circle, when Cedrik arrived, munching on the remainder of a roll. Unbeknownst to Cedrik, a chunk of the bread fell to the floor when he took a bite upon entering the circle. With absolutely no warning two children, a four-year-old boy and a three-year-old girl, shot out of their seats and dove onto the chunk of bread, screaming. I could not move for a moment. They rolled around on the floor, each trying to not only grab the bread, but to simultaneously shove it in their mouth. It reminded me of when dogs are fighting and people need to use the hose to get them apart. When I separated them, I said, "This has been on the floor, blech. It is dirty." The students calmly sat back down as if they had not just been wrestling WWE-style over a bread crumb on the floor. At the time I was shocked, but just a minute afterward I could hardly keep from laughing when I looked at them. The mental image of this interaction is amazing, and I am rather glad to have witnessed it.

Observations for today

Observations for today:

1) Nearly the first thing I observed this morning was a man showering. This happened on accident for my part, but I am not sure about anyone else's invovement. I walked into my kitchen absently pondering whether to eat bread or yogurt, which were the only two things in my apartment to eat. I happened to look out my window and straight into the window of the apartment across the coutyard from me. Apparently, my kitchen window looks directly into HIS bathroom window. Why he does not pull the blinds, I cannot fathom. Fortunately, there is a big fake plant that blocks the view at least partially...

2) In the past three days I have seen three men wearing a bag that is a combination man-purses/fanny pack. They wear it slung over the shoulder opposite of the side where the bag hangs, which makes it less like a purse, but at least two of them were shaped in a way that reminded me of a fanny pack. Additionally, I have seen at least two young men (different from the ones wearing man-bags) who were wearing a masculine version of capris. There were many pockets and manly indicators that they were not wearing women's pants, but I have never seen this style before. I do not know if it will catch on in America...

3) There are florists and garden centers on nearly every block here. This struck me as odd because most Germans live in condos or apartments and have no yard. However, just behind my apartment building is a big stretch of green, well-looked-after gardens, separated by tiny fences, and speckled with little green houses. I think people may rent or own these small lots to grow their gardens. Either that, or people actually live in the tiny buildings and take much pride in their yards.

4) I went to the kindergarten for most of the day today to observe and get to know the children. Since I am not allowed to speak German to the students, they tended to look at me uncertainly when I tried to talk to them, but sometimes seemed to understand what I was saying because of my gestures or words that are similar between the two languages. Once I caught a three-year-old girl throwing rocks off of a giant mound of dirt. I called up to her that she should not throw rocks, and she responded by announcing (in German of course), "I am on the horse!" I have no idea what that was about. Probably she said something sensible and I just misheard or misinterpreted because my German is poor. Another instance of this occurred after a clerk rang me up at the store: I was pretty sure he asked me, "would you like the reciept in your stomach?" Since he did not shove the piece of paper down my throat, I must have misunderstood him. To be clear I said I wanted the reciept in my bag. ("Ich will es in meine Tasche, bitte." Well, I hope that is what I said anyway.)

5) My apartment here in Magdeburg has convinced me that there is not an apartment in the world where you do not have to listen to a train zipping through the backyard and a baby crying on another floor. Both my Puyallup and then my Kent apartment had both of these things, and now I still have to listen to them in Germany. I will admit though, the train was much louder in Puyallup and the baby much louder in Kent, so I have nothing to complain about here. I particularly find it hard to complain because I really only hear the baby when I am in the bathroom (I think because noise carries so well in the big, open, tiled room--not because my bathroom is haunted by a baby ghost or anything) and really, since I do not sleep in the bathroom, the baby does not keep me awake. Last night, when I could not sleep at about 3am because of the jet-lag, it did occur to me that maybe I should take a bath because my bathtub is so awesome, but really, who takes a bath at 3am? Trains are also much quieter here; they run without all the pompous whistling and chugging.

As always, more later.

Magdeburg, heir bin ich!

Jet-lagged, hungry and unable to use the German keyboard properly, I am writing from Magdeburg! I have been here just a little over two days, but so far I am enamored. The trip was long and mostly uninteresting; however, I did have a couple of moments of panic when 1)My passport renewal was enigmatically delayed and subsequently lost by the USPS 2) I realized I did not have the phone number of the person picking me up at the trainstation and thus could not actually ASK him to do so (solved thanks to Jared!) and 3) on the layover in Paris a number of employees were unable to tell me where to find my cat. Apparently when you fly an animal into Paris it is customary to leave it by itself on the floor of the baggage pick-up hall with absolutely no aplomb. Sophie meowed about this quite a bit, but otherwise mostly just sat and looked at me as though she despised me. Not one person asked to inspect the cat or her documents at any time.

When I had finally dragged my bag and Sophie to our new apartment, she immediately forgave me and now seems thrilled with Magdeburg, purring constantly. Our apartment is amazing, so it is unfortunate that I can only keep it for six weeks. There is a washing machine, dish washer, nice view and even a beautiful newly tiled bathroom complete with tub. I did run into a small snag this afternoon though, when as predicted I had trouble buying the right products to actually use these machines. I found what appeared to be dish soap, but the bottle said "do not wash children's hands in this" so I did not buy it, and also I could not remember the word for soap or for laundry and thus gave up quickly on finding laundry soap. The apartment is also within walking distance of a mall, lots of cafes, a bakery, and pretty much everything I could ask for. Even the internet "club" I am sitting in right now is only a few blocks away. 

Tomorrow I will sit in with the class for the first time and also visit the zoo itself. I have seen the school, but not when children were there, and have not seen any of the zoo at all, so that should be exciting. Next week I will be doing a presentation with the boa constrictor for the children and the press have been invited to observe. Apparently our project has been getting good press; of course I cannot read or understand any of it because it is all in German. 

I have not found a routine yet because I am still not sure of my schedule at all, but to retain a semblance of routine I tried to continue going for my usual run. I did not get lost on my first run, and ironically ran directly and inadvertently to a gym. It was called McFit. No joke. It did not appear to be operated by McDonald's, but would be a great business plan--to run both the horribly fattening fast food joint as well as a the gym... 

Some random observations thus far:

Europeans do TOO wear jeans. A lot. 

Not all Germans speak English, and some who don't are important--bank tellers, bus ticket checkers, etc.

Everyone will respond "just a bit" if you ask whether they speak English, even if they are proficient.

Germans stand too close in line.

There is a drink on the menus here that is half beer and half Sprite.

The University is free, but it costs an annual fee to have a library card.

The manager of the preschool has NEVER eaten peatnut butter!

German keyboards are not the same as American ones and are difficult to use.

Clerks in stores and waiters have no "customer voice" that is extra helpful and friendly like Americans clerks.

Espresso types of coffee will be served with straws.

Non-alcoholic beer has begun to be marketed here and the Germans are justly confused.

For now, Magdeburg is fabulous and I am greatly enjoying my adventure. If I still believe this after my first day on the job tomorrow...we will have to wait and see.

Onward

When I came in to the hallway of the Wild Wonders Outdoor Theater today, my last day as an employee there, Maureen said, "You get to do whatever you want today!" I thought, "Great, I can make the perfect day! I'm going to--hold on..." It struck me then that if I were to create the perfect day, it would look mostly like every other day at Wild Wonders.



First I spent an hour cleaning the bird of prey mews, and broke the news to the raptors that I wasn't coming back. Then I spent another hour dicing produce and preparing the bizarre culinary concoctions that the animals eat. After a lively break with my coworkers, I asked Quito the green-winged macaw to participate in a training session with me. He responded by raising one foot in the air toward me, asking me to pick him up. Quito is learning to extend his wings on command, and considering he started out just shrugging, I think full wing extentions like he offered me today are impressive.



Next I took Jumbo Jet, a radiated tortoise, out for a snack of clover in the grass, and then helped set up for one of the theater's big presentations. Mostly this consisted of asking animals to go into their crates and strategically placing treats and props. During the show I stayed behind the scenes to release animals from their kennels at their cues and direct them back when their routines were through. After show clean-up, I harnessed Buckley the beaver and took him for a short jaunt around the zoo while I talked to visitors about him. I then had just enough time to bring Canberra the tawny frogmouth out into the sunshine for a quick sunbathe before lunch.



My coworker Sara and I jogged through scenic Point Defiance park on our lunch break, with the sun dappling the paths through the thick trees. By the time I cooled down and ate, it was time to set up for the next show. This time my role was to present to the audience. Our show is really an entire play, scripts, costumes, sound effects and all; the difference is that we have a lot more animals doing cameos than any play I've ever heard of. Performing in these shows is one of my favorite parts of working at Wild Wonders. I love hearing the "oohs" and "ahhs" of people who have never seen an aardvark dig, a fishing cat go fishing, or a hawk dive after prey.



By the time we cleaned up after the second show, there were less than two hours left of our ten hour day. I squeezed in one last training session with Quito, who again proved that parrots are very intelligent birds by holding his wings extended for slightly longer when I gave him the hand signal cue for slightly longer. Twiggy the red-legged seriema was next in line for attention. She needed a refresher course in her "hold" behavior, which means she should stand fairly still and focused on a target when the trainer cues her.

The last animal I accompanied onto zoo grounds was Phoenix the Harris' hawk. He said, "cheep cheep" when I asked him to step onto my glove while I untied his leash from the perch. I chose a shady spot near the path, but it was late in the day so mostly Phoenix and I had the place to ourselves. I fed him a few bits of chick and explained that I wouldn't be there to take care of him anymore, and that he should be sure to fly well in shows, but that I didn't mind if he wanted to foot some people now and then or yell his impatient "caaaaawww" at them. He said, "cheep cheep."

Before I left, I cleaned out my locker, turned in my uniforms and keys and walked once past each of the enclosures to look at the animals one last time as one of their keepers. I did feel sad, but the feeling that overshadowed my sorrow was the realization that I was extremely lucky. I had constructed my perfect day, just like Mo said, and it was exactly like any other day for me at the Wild Wonders Outdoor Theater. Not many people can say that most days at their job are nearly perfect.

Needless to say, I will miss the theater. But I am optimistic about building my own new role in Germany at the Magdeburg Zoo and school. As must as I loved Wild Wonders, I am ready for more than I could get there.

The Journey Begins

So there I was, attempting to join the ranks of all other tech-savvy, hip, young people, when I accidentally deleted my entire first blog entry and had to start over. Blast. Since my departure for Germany is imminent and I am a notoriously poor correspondent, I am attempting to open all lines of communication. I have an internet phone number, an email address (of course) a MySpace page, and now this blog. I hope that's enough for people or I'm in trouble. Today we are at T-minus 9 days. (Where does the saying "t-minus" come from?)

Truth be told, I am terrified. Seriously, who thought it would be a good idea for me to wander off to a country where I barely speak the language, don't know a soul, and won't be able to afford weinerschnitzel? Some days though, I am excited. I will be experiencing all kinds of new things, and I'll be doing it all on my own, however I want. That part doesn't sound half bad. Well, not entirely on my own--Sophie is coming too.

So here is my Blogspot page. Ta da! Thus far, I haven't figured out how to do anything useful with it (besides delete blogs accidentally), but I am optimistic. I am optimistic about Germany too. As the Magic-8 ball would say, "Outlook positive."