Home.

Well, here's the thing: I'm home. But then again, I'm not at home. I'm not even within 1,500 miles of home. Instead, I am in California, soaking up the sun everyday, with nothing that has a relationship to home except for the return of the English language into my life.


In Washington DC, I was torn away from my three days with my CBYX group by my mom, my sister Tori, and her boyfriend (Dustin). Upon seeing them, I was initially slightly annoyed that they had taken me away early from the groups of exchange students, cutting all of my goodbyes short. I looked at my mom in the front seat of the rental car they had picked up in Tennessee. She smiled at me. The biggest smile stretched across her face! "Hi, honey!" Nothing about this felt strange or weird: she was my mom, and she was in the front seat, picking me up just like she had always done before. I had been gone for a year, and I never felt like I had left...


I traveled with my family upon my arrival and experienced America again: full blast. Driving through Washington DC, Philadelphia, New York City, Boston, Montreal, Toronto, and St. Louis with my family in the car, the same family that I hadn't seen in a year, got to be an overload at point, but it showed exactly how little had changed. Then I was at the New York City train station and telling my family what to do and reading the train plans. We were in Montreal, and I was trying to remember the few French phrases I knew from my day in Paris and random words from my friends. I sat in the front seat and glanced through the pages of the book that Louisa had handed me in the train station the morning I left, and I thought about my friends and life back in Germany. I might have felt like I never left at times, but then I felt an aching for the place that had also become my "own." 


I started to miss speaking German, the language that had tied my tongue and given me so much grief. I missed my friends and family there that had I had come to love after 10 months. I saw strangers in America and immediately started to form the "Sie" respective form in my head, so I could make a joke about their were no towels left, then I quickly remembered that English was probably their first language too. I woke up after dreaming in German and about my friends and family there, and my first words in the morning were in German. After not speaking for five minutes in the car, I would sit contemplative and not realize until I spoke again that I had been thinking in German.


I've been home over a month now, but I'm still not even home. I am studying Non-Euclidean Geometry at a summer program at Stanford in California. I was home for four days and squeezed in quick "hellos" to some and my brother's entire wedding, before grabbing my suitcases again and boarding yet another plane. The wedding was beautiful. The Texas weather was too warm. My friends and family haven't changed much; however, I feel like I have.

June 9th-13th

Berlin, Berlin!

“You guys are taking the Spanish test tomorrow!”

“Uhmm… You are too!”

“No, I’m not, because I’m going to be in Berlin.”

“… Lissa, sit still for more than five minutes.”

“Never.”

My end of the year exchange for my organization was in Berlin, so being that I lived as West as you possibly could get in Germany, it was a 6 hour train ride, meaning I had to miss school and my Spanish final. What a shame. J The beginning of the trip was the Cologne train station, where we all sat in our assigned seats and watched as another exchange student or two would board our train with the final destination of Berlin. We were loud. We were excited. We had to sit in the hallway to talk, so we wouldn’t annoy everyone.

Berlin was only 36 of us together from the original 45, and those 9 faces were very much missed. Looking around the table, which had changed since our mid-year seminar in Cologne (Köln), it reminded me of just how long this year had been. Sharing a room with Anne and Sara completed the year quite nicely, as we had shared our entire years with each other. Within minutes, all of the suitcases were opened, and even just our windowsill reminded me of why I loved Sara: hairspray, ironing spray, volume spray, deodorant, hairpins, and a brush were all at the ready. Anne looked at her clothes she had already put on the shelves, “What should I wear? Help!” Sara and I contemplated our week’s schedule and what would be best to wear when. Although my sleeping hours in that room were few, I loved having them as my roommates to end the year.

We went around Berlin and Potsdam as tourists with our tour guides being the students who had been lucky enough to live in Berlin or Potsdam. I think the photos can describe running around in the furious summer heat and the places we saw better than I could ever put into words. I’m showing you, not telling. (Other photos are on my Facebook page)

As part of our exchange, we met and thanked the people who gave us the scholarships: the German Bundestag. Early on Friday morning, we put on our make up with ironed skirts and squared ties with polished shoes. We sat through a Bundestag meeting in the morning in shock as people walked in late, interrupted other parties’ speeches with loud comments, and carried on full conversations with their neighbors during presentations. This was not the respect and working environment I expected in one of the world’s most governments. Exchange students prepared speeches, painted pictures, and one even played the bagpipes to show our thanks and appreciation. I thought about the Tango I was supposed to be dancing, which fell through. Afterwards, we followed our very young and enthusiastic American Ambassador to the Embassy across the street. After showing my passport, I experienced a little bit of culture shock: there was Dr. Pepper, American outlets, air conditioning, and bare feet on the grass. We were chilling in the embassy, and I enjoyed every minute of it. Later, I picked up my high heels and joined some friends, watching the beginning of the World Cup. After a year in Germany, soccer gained a new importance as the sport to watch.

Our last meeting of the weekend was the incoming of paper after paper: information for going home, flights, to-do lists, and advice from exchange alumni. The end was near. Instead of going home, I arranged a ticket to stay with another exchange student, Hannah, for another day in Berlin. Hannah showed me her personal favorites of the city and let me go back to all the places I had missed in our hurry of the previous days. To end of a tiring weekend, we picked up to pints of Ben & Jerry’s Ice Cream and went to the movies for a good, laugh-out-loud, romantic comedy. Although I missed my train in the morning and was two hours late getting home, it was all nearing the end, and I was having trouble realizing the “lasts” that I might have missed. 

June 5th-6th

Pencils and Pink

The beginning of my weekend was a birthday trip to Netherlands with friends, a train ride to Cologne to Alex’s house, and then waking up early on Saturday morning for my SAT Subject Tests. I was taking them in Düsseldorf, a city I had never been in. I sat through three hours of German, Math, and Spanish. Grammar of two foreign languages ran through my head. I took the math test, while thinking in Germany and messing up the ever confusing decimals and commas that have different meanings in different languages. I filled in the bubbles on my scantron and turned in my test. Done with learning before I left.

Here's my ballet recital. I picked this center photo for you so you can see the MASS of glitter that I had everywhere. This was such a different recital than any other one I've ever been in. I got there early in the afternoon, got ready, and then had tons of time. Also, when we were getting ready, everything was so much more fun. We were throwing on tons of glitter and doing each other's make up. Plus, my insanely bright red "Burt's Bees" chapstick was LOVED. I felt more apart of everything than any other recital. I was important. I was given face paint and told to do make up. I laughed with the 8 year olds and got them ready to be mermaids with white and blue make up on half of their face: "So are you excited? Are you happy? Tired? Hungry?" I was just having fun, talking with them. Then I danced and although I knew it wasn't the best, I was sad that it was over. But I was quickly running downstairs and getting a group of 12 year olds ready to dance! They were excited, because I was from America. Then when they were ready, I went to back to the 8 year olds and talked and lead conversations and joked. All of the little girls were asking me how to say certain phrases in English then they would tell me, smiling: "You're funny." "You're pretty!" I smiled and said very pronounced: “Thank you!

May 29th

Paris, France

  

(I tried to write this blog a couple times with no success. Too many ideas.)

Bonjour.

The City of Lights.

Je t’aime.

Paris holds the key to my heart.

Au revior.

After a little over six hours sitting in the same bus, ten minutes in the car riding home, five minutes pulling out the second bed, and seconds of laying in my bed again, I went to turn off the alarm clock, because it was 6:00 AM on a Sunday morning: “Ugh, my alarm clock is about to go off again. Honestly, can you believe everything that’s happened since then?”

Around 23 hours and 36 minutes earlier, we were getting up slowly, excited for a day that I knew I would remember for a while. It would just be a day, but it was a day in Paris. I was on the bus at 8:00AM with Christel and Martin (my host parents), Jana (my host sister), the other Jana (my host sister’s friend), and Anne by my side.

Back in November, I remember visiting Anne in Jülich for the afternoon, and we plotted how to get to Paris. Anne was determined to go to Paris, and I was, truthfully, just determined to travel. So when my parents discussed planning a trip to Paris, I worked up the courage to ask if Anne could come too.

Driving there was as unpleasant as a six hour bus ride could be, but I kept looking over to Anne with tired eyes and pulling out the scary-excited smile: Paris! The bus ride was a killer, but seeing every highway sign with the word “PARIS” written above got my nerves jumping and me pinching myself to validate everything going on around me.

We drove more and more into the heart of the city. The older buildings all just looked so… Parisian. As our bus pulled in next to the Arc d’Triomphe, I could not believe anything that was going on. We were looking at the Arc d’Triomphe. It was right in front of us. There. Like, really there. I read the dates and took in all of the detailed statues, which commemorated the Revolution that I was used to studying in my German classroom *** miles away. The view behind us was just as beautiful: Avenue des Champs-Élysées, one of the most famous shopping streets in the world.

… The rest of the day, we saw some of the most beautiful things in Paris. I, literally, stared at the Eifel tour every three minutes just to see that it was really there. That was something that I had seen over and over again in movies and history books, and now it was there. We walked up the steps of a large, beautiful church and looked at Paris as the sun set on the city. We fought our way through the Paris subway system, keeping a hand on our purses the entire time. We peered through gates to see “The Thinker” statue at a museum. We laughed as we saw the real Moulin Rouge: yes ladies and gentlemen, it does exist. We gasped at the beauty of Notre Dame and laughed at our childhood memories of the hunchbacked bell ringer. At the end of the day, through the tired eyes, we were still running around singing, “Paris holds the key to your heart. Ooh la la.”

When it comes to French: A language that I don’t understand. I couldn’t discern words so there was a need, a desire to learn and interpret, to say the words back to people with the same elegance. It was another language to conquer, and I tried to use the words I knew, saying “merci” and “excuse moi” with the best accents I could muster. Paris was beautiful.

Has time ever really escaped you? Every second slips through your fingers? Minutes vanish before your eyes? Hours and days slink into the past?

So here’s the deal, I wanted to write. I really did want to write.  In fact, I was able to send my mom a quick email with photos at one point, and although I’m already back in America now (but not at home!) I want to talk about the end of my exchange then the beginning of being back.

 May 22nd-25th

Jena, Germany

   

  

For a long weekend in May, I visited another exchange student, Jordan. He lives in East Germany, what used to be known as the DDR(German Democratic Republic), which resembled nothing of a democracy. The DDR was the part of Germany taken over by the Soviet Union after World War II, so they were rebuilt with certain socialistic ideas. Jordan’s host parents were both well into their 60s and had lived in the DDR for their entire lives. I heard the stories about how they were members of the Protestant church (very against the political Party), having a Volkswagen Bug where the only car driven was a Trabbi (upper right photo), and the fear of saying what you thought, which could ruin your children’s lives. It was a really educational weekend, and I loved seeing how another exchange student lived.

Question Marks.

Nowadays, people rarely look at me for the answer. (With the exception of English class and, sometimes, Math.)

However, thirteen pairs of eyes were looking at me at this point. Every single pair was tense with anticipation and anxiety for the answer. I was sitting in a circle with just one of the groups of Germans taking exchanges next year to America. These kids were going to a range of places in America from Texas to New Jersey to Michigan, and they were looking to me for the answer.

Last weekend, I was in Köln (or Cologne) with my exchange organization AYUSA for three days back in that same old youth hostile from my mid-year seminar in January. I was there again with exchange students, but instead of getting the advice, I was now giving it out and holding the wealth of knowledge as a current exchange student and a real American.

There were questions that I could answer thoroughly though and give my perspective. I explained what a normal school day could be like and the situation of public transportation (they were shocked that there really is a yellow school bus). At one point, one of the girls countered me and told me how she heard that in America you had the same classes everyday. She was set on what she had heard, and immediately, I started to counter argue and point out how my school had the A-day/B-day system. Then I had to smile to myself when I thought about how I was that girl when I came to Germany: I knew the answers. Two of my sisters had done this, I have always been surrounded by exchange students, and I just knew what to expect. Despite knowing that, most of my exchange experience has caught me off-guard, but I was still glad to help these exchange students however I could.

“How long have you been here? When do you go home? … Wow.”

“Did you have homesickness? What’d you do?”

“What’s high school like? What’s the biggest different between school here and there?”

“I heard they don’t have [insert object name] in America, should I bring it?”

“Do you have your own bedroom here?”

“You’re from Texas, right? Do you have a gun?”

“Have you been homesick?”

“How much money do I need per month for spending money?”

“How often do you talk to your family in America?”

“So what’s homesickness like?”

“Is everything really cheaper in America?”

“Where have you been in America?”

“Do you know anything about [Insert host-city name here]?”

“I’m scared about getting homesick. Is it hard?”

“Was it hard making new friends here?”

“What was your first day of school like?”

I answered every question as well as I could, but with always a side note on there: “But that’s how it is for me, personally, it could also be like…” Hopefully whatever I said will help someone in the long run, but they’ll figure it out for themselves. I am sure of that.

Mayersche's Most Loyal Customers...

Okay, fine, Anne. I read your blog, and I guess that is something that I have been wanting to talk about. Inspiration? I think so.

Did you know I am actually pretty productive? Like I go and study (or I try to!) two times a week? I guess I just might have to convince you: Anne and I recently started this new routine where every Monday afternoon, both of us get out a period early so Anne gets on a bus to Aachen, and I run home to grab some food. A snack for two, which Anne reminds me of my weirdness considering I’ve showed up with fruit, shrimp kebabs, PB&J sandwiches, yogurt with spoons, and cookies. We eat outside on a park bench or on the grass, enjoying the good weather as we tell each other about our weekends and what we’ve missed.

Still talking, we take three escalators up to the very top floor where the subject matter changes to “Hey, is this the book we decided we liked?” “Were you finished with the Slang book?” “Make sure you grab both the dictionaries!” We both take our piles of books to a study carrel and pull out our notebooks before switching them. Then the sentences change again:

“Uhmmm… thorough?”

“Wait… give me a second! … Sorgfältig!”

“Hey, that was pretty good!”

“Yeah, I studied in the bus,” admitted with a sheepish smile.

“To look for, to long for”

“Sich sehnen!”

We go through our lists of vocabulary words, helping each other remember the more difficult ones and seeing how much we learned. Last week, we both sat there astounded at the impact of the words we had learned. How could people have used those words so many times, and I never thought twice about what it meant or questioned them? I thought I always understood everything, but I’ve heard this word at least 32 times today and I never knew it before? It’s pretty hard to imagine.

Then we do the next step: find more new words to learn. We pull out what is considered a “Basic Dictionary” and go through page by page, quizzing each other on new random words. If you don’t know the word, write it down and be expected to know it next week. Easy enough. Now, I can welcome a long list of new words into my vocabulary such as: großzügig, zart, heiter, sich sehnen. Words that I had heard so many times and never really thought about what they mean.

Plus, the best part of it all is to watch passerby-ers stop at the peculiarity of our conversation where we’ll switch from German to English 6 times in one sentence, not thinking twice about the fact that I just said “obwohl” and “ich denke” directly after “yesterday afternoon” and “great.” 

Excerpts from a Journal...

This is me wanting to post something, but not actually wanting to take the time to write something new. ; )
Enjoy.

"Now this will be interesting to write about. I have been living in parallel worlds. My world in America is waiting for me to come back. It exists here, but it doesn’t really. Tori Elenburg and my Mom seem the most like reality to me, but even my own sisters seem like a small bit of my imagination, of a bit of my life that doesn’t belong to me, like maybe a part of a book that I read. How are they so far away? Out of sight, out of mind. At the same time, when I am talking to other exchange students or making plans for traveling or just living in the context of my calendar, my life, family, and friends here in Germany don’t really exist to me. They all turn into a temporary condition versus a year of my life. They become relatively less important and real. However, when I am laying down for bed at night and watching a movie or TV show on my computer, I lay down with a content little smile on my face, and every other problem in the world literally disappears and I go to bed forgetting about the problem that Jana and I are having or how I need to say “Thank You” to my host parents for such a wonderful weekend. Anytime I leave the house and get my break for a couple hours or so, everything slips away from me, and I come back in such a happy, go lucky attitude of everything is great until I walk in the front door and find out that things are where I left them....Well, the moral of the story is that I want to pack and slowly return back to that “alternate universe” in America that is waiting on me. I was asked once again today, “Wann fährst du? Freust du dich schon auf zu Hause?” The answer is really simple. “Duh. Es ist mein ‘zu Hause!’” Yesterday, I talked to Jordan and Sara on the phone. With Sara, I was cleaning out my stuff at the moment and she had mentioned how she had packed one suitcase already, then realized that she still needed all the stuff inside and ended up unpacking it. Jordan told me to just go ahead and do a rough pack where I could weigh everything. That seems like a good idea too. Seriously, will everything make it back home? What am I going to do when I get go home? Will I nail all of my college interviews and find my place at an Ivy League? Will I go to Stanford all smart and prepared? Will I come back and start showing Anna around Prosper and Dallas and be a good host sister? Will I start writing college essays and apply early decision? Will I have good class rank? There are so many unknowns and possibilities that I want to come true. Not like my ACT test or my PSAT where I didn’t really study and still did amazing, but I keep thinking now, couldn’t I have done better? Or do I just have this luck that opens up doors of possibilities to me? Haven’t I always worked it out in the end? Or is confidence going to kill me?"

I am going to elaborate on the last one, although I am ready to go home and it is my “zu Hause,” I’ve made myself a “zu Hause” here. I have sat down and talked to my mom multiple times and after telling her about what I did the last weekend with my last huge smile and sigh of contentment, she’ll suggest, “So are you ready to come home from all your adventures, Lissa?” Then I can laugh a little bit and protest, “No!... Can all my worlds just combine? Fuse into one? That would be a lot easier nowadays!” Truthfully, I know when I am going back to America: June 23^rd. I’ll be with my family on June 25^th and back in Prosper for a couple days around July 7^th. However, I have no clue the next time that I’ll be in Germany or I’ll see any of these people again and that, I can honestly say, scares me.

So… are the Germans are going to America or are the Americans coming to Germany? J

Amsterdam

When I told my friends that I was going to Amsterdam on Saturday, there were two things that they said to me:

1)    “The entire city smells like weed. It stinks!”

2)    “Don’t go to the Red Light District! Whatever you do, don’t go there. You’ll be taken away if there is any form of darkness or shadow.”

Granted, both of those pieces were just hilarious when they were said to me, but both of them ended up holding some value of truth in the end. Before you start reading, I’ll say it now: No, I was not kidnapped in the Red Light District.

            We drove to Amsterdam early on Saturday morning. Even though my host parents had talked about it with me on Friday night, I was still shocked to find out that Amsterdam was a two and a half hour drive away. College Station is about three and a half hours from Prosper, and we make that drive a lot more often, but Germany is quite a bit smaller than Texas, so the mental definitions of distance is different too. Martin, Christel, Nik, Jana, and I all woke up around 6:30 on Saturday morning to leave for a day in Amsterdam, they couldn’t remember the last time they were all in Amsterdam together, and I knew I was never in Amsterdam at all. The back seat was quiet most of the way there as we slept all in weird positions with heads on each other’s shoulders and necks bent in uncomfortable angles, but we woke up 20 minutes outside of Amsterdam and sat up excitedly.

 My first view of Amsterdam was the Olympic Stadium from 1928. My host dad, Martin, is a huge sports fan, so he ran around talking excitedly about where the Olympic games were the years before and after and the Netherlands’ prize field hockey team. We all laughed a little as we knew his trip was made before we even had left the parking lot there and got on a street tram into downtown Amsterdam. I read the signs excitedly on my way into downtown, where I live in Germany is right on the borders to the Netherlands and Belgium, so I am used to seeing Dutch and trying to read it, but everything was more exciting when I knew I was in Amsterdam. As we pulled into the central station, I kept looking at the water that made up half of the streets of the city, and I was blown away. Every house was built narrow, tall, and it slanted out towards the street a little to get a couple extra inches floor room for the same piece of land. There were hooks hanging at the top of every house, which my host family told me was for lifting goods to the top floor, something practical that I would never had expected. As we walked down a main street covered in Amsterdam tourist shops, such as sex museums, souvenirs shops, and cafés, my host mom pointed out the windows to me and said, “Just how they paid taxes for how much land their house covered, they also had to pay a “curtain tax.” If they had curtains that meant they had something they wanted to hide… As you know, the Dutch are very open people.” Little tidbits of knowledge like that came throughout the day, such as the word “te huur,” or Dutch for “to borrow” (“teh who-r”) later evolved to the German “Hure” (“who-r-uh”) which somewhere along the line became “whore” in English. That was all invented on the streets of Amsterdam, where a man could “borrow” a woman for a night and give her back the next morning. Well, aren’t those nice little tid bits of knowledge? The crazy things the city of Amsterdam has to tell…

As our walking tour of the city continued, I kept my eyes out for one building that I had seen and studied in photos. It was narrow, tall, had 9 glass one-paned windows, and sat on the canal. It was the house of Anne Frank. Sadly, pretty much half of the houses of Amsterdam can fit that description. I had my eyes out as we passed over every bridge. Then, as we were walking in the area that we knew it was in, we came across a line that went down the block and around the corner. We had found it. “Excuse me, how long have you guys been waiting here?” I asked someone at the front of the line, while crossing my fingers, “Oh, not long! Just fifteen minutes or so, it goes quickly!” We took our spots in line and watched people line up behind us as we slowly inched our way forward. In front of us, a group of college aged students from America were talking about a friend that goes to Kansas University. Behind us, a similar group was debating where they should go next. The group behind them was also speaking in English; all the groups were plainly from America. Is there some holiday I missed out on? How can so many people just skip out to go to Amsterdam? (Besides for us Germans!) The house of Anne Frank was something to see. It really was small, and your time in there was gone before you know it. But having read the book, I appreciated seeing the rooms; seeing the pencil marks on the wall where they tracked the heights of Margot, Peter, and Anne;  seeing Anne’s collection of movie star photos still glued on the wall; seeing the bookshelf-hidden entrance where she always described hitting her head; seeing that Peter’s room wasn’t as set off from everyone else as I had though; seeing the real Diary of Anne Frank at the very end of the tour.

We went from there to lunch at a café next to one of the canals to walking through the city, looking for old bridges, shopping, and hitting up the main attraction points in Amsterdam. It was a gorgeous city that stole my breath. Terry Prachett once said, “My experience in Amsterdam is that cyclists ride where the hell they like and aim in a state of rage at all pedestrians while ringing their bell loudly, the concept of avoiding people being foreign to them,” which holds more than its fair share of truth when you are walking through the city and a biker comes flying at you, using one of those bells for its real purpose: “Get out of my way!” As for where I began this story, the smell of certain recreation drugs definitely hits you at the most random parts while walking through the city. The other part came true in a different way, of all the places we walked to in Amsterdam, I never saw the Red Light District. I hope you weren’t expecting much of a different answer!

i am 17, going on 18...

Last week was my birthday week, I literally claimed the entire weekend for myself in one of my friend's planners. I wrote in big letters: "Lissa's Birthday Weekend! (It's all belongs to me!) <3 Lissa" It only seemed right to make sure my birthday in Germany was a special though even though I was a little nervous about what I wanted to do. Blah, who wants to have to figure out the party and plan it? I definitely didn't want to, but everything worked itself out wonderfully.

My birthday began already on Monday when I walked into school after two weeks of break, and comments immediately filled the air like, "I know someone who has a birthday this week..." followed by poking my side, inconspicuously. The excited attitude was really quite contagious. : ) I couldn't help but smile and beam too at the thought of my birthday! Already on Monday in school, someone handed me a birthday letter from one of my German friends that had moved to Brazil. The birthday happiness began with a bang! On Tuesday, more comments as to my birthday were brought up in conversation by my friends, anyone with a Facebook or SchülerVZ (they receive notices), or a person that I had just managed to write my birthday in their planner at some point. I received another birthday card that night from America and proudly looked at the nice little birthday pile forming, waiting until Friday to open anything. Wednesday is a day that I am not really up to commenting on, you can read below if you want to. : ) Then Thursday was actually a guy friend of mine's, Marius', birthday, so the birthday wishes were flowing in the air. I thought it was funny enough as someone ran up to Marius and gave him a huge hug, right before immediately turning to me and saying, "and guess who has a birthday tomorrow!" I endured the entire day as my friends would tell me I wasn't allowed to listen to a conversation or covered my ears. The excitement for tomorrow was building no matter what! I was talking to Anne on Facebook Thursday night, and she was asking me about my birthday and whether or not I was excited. I, truthfully, confessed how it was exciting and I wanted to spend my birthday with as many people who loved me as possible, including my exchange friends. Anne typed in a short response: "Why not?" I didn't give it more than a second's thought before I ran downstairs and asked my host parents if two Americans could spend the night Friday night to celebrate my birthday with me. After leaving Anne and Sara messages, I felt so much better as I laid down in bed for my last night being 16.

Waking up to the first words of "Alles Güte zum Geburtstag," sounded a little different than the "Happy Birthday" I had thought to myself, but it wasn't at all less meaningful.  Immediately walking into school, I was giving and getting hugs and just saying the words "Vielen Dank" over and over again. Germans don't give hugs, they give little kisses on the cheek, so it was a great change that I had missed. A friend ran up excitedly behind me and literally jumped with her hands around my neck: "Alles Güte zum Geburtstag!" English class was great as everybody sang to me, and then it was a class period where I didn't have to concentrate a lot, given that it is my natural language. ; ) Then during the first break, my friends made a circle in the hallway and presented me with two birthday cakes while singing Happy Birthday. I was just laughing and smiling. It was great! And then it was even better when someone was asking around for a lighter, and I blew out my birthday candles in the middle of the school on the stairs. It got even better when someone pulled out a bottle of children strawberry champagne to drink in congratulations. 

Then it was just even funnier when we all realized that we were supposed to be in class and only had a 10 minute break. I had to carry the cakes in Art class, but the birthday magic continued as I actually knew what I wanted to draw for the first time ever. It was supposed to be a still life representing us: my photos, my ballet shoes, my computer, iPod headphones, text books, journal, and German Grammar in a Nutshell were all displayed as important parts of me. Back to the school grounds for our bigger break, I was nervous as I was designated to open the bottle and cut the cake, but it was so much fun as we were all standing outside drinking out of this bright pink bottle (no one thought to bring glasses) and we all ate cake from our hands.

Back to class. Which turned out not to be so bad, considering we watched a movie in both Religion and German. Somehow, fate recognized my birthday and just turned my day into way better than days should possibly be. Plus, Sport was cancelled so I was able to run home before Circus and Ballet and actually switch out bags instead of carrying everything with me the entire day, especially now that 'everything' included the leftover cake, strawberry juice, and presents. My German friends turned my birthday into a way better birthday than I could have expected.


Birthday wishes and happiness continued through circus and ballet as I had so much fun do the things I loved. My host parents had asked my a week before if I was going to go to class on my birthday, but I couldn't imagine a better way to spend part of my day. After a particularly interesting pointe class, I was walking from the bus stop and Anne was calling me, "Where are you? We're going to be a little late to your house... but not long!" Two seconds later, Sara jumped out from behind a car and scared me so much! I laughed and was so happy to have my Americans there! I talked to my mom for five minutes before jumping on a bus to go meet up with a group of five friends at a cocktail café. I was shocked to walk in and see there was an extremely full table, and then on top of that, people came and joined us as we sat and enjoyed each other's company. ; ) We were there for a couple hours until Sara was so tired, and I must admit that I was getting pretty tired too. We ran to McDonald's to get food for the way home and then sat at my house and talked until we fell asleep.

Saturday morning, we wake up and ate a huge brunch with my host family with Anne and Sara there. We sat around lazily and looked at old photos and reminisced like old ladies. : ) Eventually, it was time to walk Sara to the train station and say goodbye, but me and Anne didn't let that stop us on our fun. We went to the city for a bit, and I spent one of my birthday presents already (a gift card!) For lunch, we decided to keep it simple as we passed the last strawberries of the day from the first strawberries of the season, and we bought two quarts before joining what seemed like the rest of Aachen to lay down on the grass and enjoy the sun.

As we walked around, Anne and I talked about everything just like we normally do, but at one point she mentioned how her and Josa (her host mom) talk about me. I was very intrigued and persisted until Anne told me about Josa's impersonation of me: "I am Lissa. I am from Texas. I do what I want." If you've ever met Josa, you would just have to laugh at the thought. But Josa was right, since I had gotten to Germany, I had jumped through a lot of loop holes and assured everyone that if I wanted to do something, I would do it and nobody or nothing was going to stop me.

After Anne left, I went home for a little bit to shower and get ready before leaving again. Saturday night was a night watching Sex and the City at a friend's house, while eating more strawberries and chocolate. Then Sunday was a day where my host parents literally spent from noon until 5, sitting on our back porch, soaking it in. I took their example and went for an over hour long walk and enjoyed the sunlight too. I laid down on the slightly wet grass without a hesitation and bopped my head along to the music on my iPod and just closed my eyes for the warmth to color my cheeks again. Summer is finally returning.

Man wird gleich kleine Lissa Stückchen an den Wände finden...

You're about to find little Lissa pieces on the walls....

The Important Events, Pertaining to the Afternoon of
Wednesday, April 14, 2010:

13.50 I am sitting in Art class when my teacher pulls out paintings from back in December to give back to us. I see my painting at the very bottom of the pile. The huge sunset that I had tried and failed to make look magical, the pictures of Tori that I had incorporated even though they were too small, and the fact that you could obviously tell I painted it if you looked at anything I have painted since 4th grade: All of these fact were painfully obvious to me. I took my painting quickly and put it under my desk, then there was the painting of my friend Lena who had moved in January, but someone had to take her painting to her Grandma's house as a gift. I volunteered and covered my painting with hers.

14.10 My art teacher walks quickly across the quad with the two paintings in hand, "Lissa! If you didn't want the paintings you could have just thrown them away instead of leaving them around!" She was shoving them back at me, and I barely found my words to explain how I left them in the auditorium because I have choir practice there in 5 minutes and didn't want to carry them outside with me right then. She faltered then apologized for assuming before, but I was still thrown off guard about the attack. People spent the rest of the time, trying to sneak peeks at the paintings. (These are 40x50cm canvases, hard to hide) Then some boy jumps into the conversation: "Do you understand? No, that's the funny part. You exchange students think you understand and say you understand, but you actually have no idea. I know how you are." What in the world?

15.08 After a boring choir practice where I tried to remember the complicated soprano part of "Requiem," because I had missed so many practices due to Easter Break and Auschwitz. I walked into the city, thinking, "I have mine and Lena's huge paintings. I am supposed to go to Purweider Weg and drop of Lena's painting... I have all of this stuff in my purse to send Felicia in Sweden, and I wanted to buy a couple other things to add... I have to be back here to meet my Community Representative at 17.00, which I forgot to tell my host family about... I can get this all done."

15.16 Walking to the general downtown direction, I decide to send Felicia's present because that was important and had to be done soon. I made my way to a souvenir shop and picked up some Aachen-themed stuff, but as soon as I walk outside, it starts raining. The sky had been perfect 15 minutes before... What happened? Without an umbrella, with two huge paintings, and on a street with little shelter or overhangs, I start just trying to move quickly to the next store. While crossing the street as the rain dies down, I have to run back real fast because I just dropped one of the paintings on the street... Not good.

15:45 With yummy candy put in my purse and a cardboard box under my hand that I had just gotten from a pharmacy, (the Lissa method of shipping something is to just ask a lot of stores if they have an empty cardboard box, many of them do) I walked to the post office, glad to have one thing almost off of my list. Oh wait, why are the lights dark at the Post office? A guy is walking out of the doors as I am walking and says, "Well, this is really stupid!" I look closer at the note taped on the glass room dividers: "We apologize for the inconvenience, but the post office will be closed on Wednesday, April 14th. We will be open again on Thursday, April 15th. We apologize, once again, for the inconvenience." I looked at the two paintings under one arm, the overflowing purse under the other, and the cardboard box in my hands. The post office knows absolutely nothing about inconvenience.


15:48 Plan B. Buy large envelope and send as much as possible to Sweden, so it gets there sooner, the entire day won't be a waste, and I won't have to wait around for my CR with so much stuff. I put my cardboard box next to the trash can and went off to get an envelope and was deeply absorbed when an older man comes up to me:
"Excuse me, did you just put the cardboard box next to the trash can?"
"Uhmmm... No?"
"I'm sorry, but did you just put the cardboard box next to the trash can? It can't stay there. You need to take it with you."
"What?"
He starts walking to the trash and pointing at the box, "Nein! Du musst es mit dir nehmen!" I put it in the trash again and walked away rolling my eyes, then he is yelling at me loudly saying, "NEIN! Du darfst das nicht machen! Take home! Take home!"
He finally walks away and the incredible urge to throw the stupid cardboard box at the back of his head crept over my entire body. You have no idea how much strength it took to not do it.
I walked into another store, and they recycled my box for me happily. I went to go buy stamps for my new ready package, the machine only takes coins and credit cards. I went to the bakery and begged for change for my 10 Euro bill. I finally get the package ready to go, and there is absolutely no space in the mail drop; letters are literally falling out and on the ground anytime someone opens it.

16:14 I walked in the city and searched after another mail drop until I finally found one and had to shove and squish my package so much to make it fit through the slot. I hope nothing broke... There was still a little under an hour before I had to meet my CR, which wasn't enough time to go home or drop off the painting at the grandma's house and who wants to walk through stores carrying two huge paintings? I decided to enjoy the good weather and walked up to the very top floor of a good bookstore nearby and went on their outside balcony where they have a small playground and fountains. Sitting down with a huge huff, I looked over at the two stupid paintings I was carrying, neither of them were truthfully that great. This is where Lissa reaches the point of insanity. I turn my own painting over and start ripping the canvas out from under the staples. Just ripping it out. No clue what I was going to do with it. It took me a good fifteen or twenty minutes to get through all the staples, but I just kept ripping and didn't think twice.  I couldn't exactly rip apart another girl's painting, but it felt so liberating throwing the pieces of wood frame away and shoving the canvas in my purse, even though it barely fit. Deep breathes. I felt officially like I could do the maniac laugh for a reason.

Me and My Flag. (A Children's Book)

Hi. My name is Lissa, and I live in a country named Germany, but I visited my friend in a country named Sweden!

I took a plane to go visit my friend, Felicia, in Sweden, and it was very exciting!

Sweden was new and pretty, but there was still some snow! One night, me and my Swedish friends put on very pretty dresses for a special dinner, and on our way to the restaurant we found….

A beautiful sky-blue and sunny-yellow flag! Do you know this flag? This is the Swedish flag.

We bought the flag and started having a lot of adventures around Stockholm, Sweden.

I went to a lot of cool places with my flag and learned tons of cool history, and sometimes we took funny photos too.

Me and Felicia had tons of fun in Sweden, especially with my flag.

Now, I am back in Germany, but I still have my flag and want to go Felicia visit again! I am proud to call myself a little Swedish and say: “Jag heter Lissa” instead of “Ich heiße Lissa” or “My name is Lissa.”

The End.

Today, I sat in the car and watched out the window at the Autobahn. I watched the roads curve in between mountains. When you drove around a bend, you would find yourself driving on a bridge over a town nestled in a valley. I was used to this kind of drive for when I went south of Aachen to my host-grandparents’ and cousins’ houses. In contrast to the drive south of Aachen, there are the roads to the east and the north that I know well too. Last Wednesday morning, even though it was still pitch-black outside the windows when my host-dad and I left at 6:00AM, I still knew the flat green fields we were driving past with hills in the background. By the time the sun rose, I didn’t recognize the landscape as much because we were driving in a new northward direction for me. There were a different kind of trees outside the windows, and a new Dutch-like landscape rolled by. I was on my way to a small airport to fly to Stockholm. I have been dreaming about going to Stockholm since we dropped Felicia off at the airport last June…

I sat in the front seat and told everyone how I wanted to go visit Felicia in Sweden when I was in Germany. Tori immediately gave me a reality check of how I “wouldn’t be able to travel as much as [I] would like to,” and it will be very unlikely. Instead, my answer was: “It will be the cheapest to visit her when I am in Germany than it will ever been again in my life. I am going to figure out a way.” Tori just shrugged her shoulders, knowing I would see for myself once I got to Germany…

I sat in the airport, happily, remembering that from the previous summer and laughing at Tori in my head. I did it. I walked across the tarmac after not checking any bags (that’s what you get when your flight costs less than $50 roundtrip), and a sense of independence rushed over me. I was going to Sweden!

I found myself three hours later sitting on Felicia’s bed and just listening to her talk about our week’s plans in awe. She was blonde again, which had surprised me when she scared me at the bus stop. Her motorcycle boots and red velvet leggings didn’t fit my memory of the girl I knew, but the black bow in her hair assured me it was the same one. Oh, how much I had missed her! After a quick tour of their apartment, which amazingly cool and urban (I was mesmerized by her shower of all things), I was staring outside her bedroom window where I could see the main shopping street in Stockholm just one block down. I don’t know how she did it. I don’t know how she went to Prosper, Texas where everything is miles away, and a person relies on others for transport after growing up, literally, in the middle of downtown Stockholm. Stockholm is a city of 750,000 people, which is less than Köln’s million, but they seem to have so much more to offer.

(My first moments with Felicia as she showed me Stockholm)

My following week in Stockholm was beautiful. Wednesday night after I came, me and Felicia didn’t do much besides for pick up cookies and pulled out season 2 of Gossip Girl, so she would have to stare at that temptation to get her homework done. Thursday morning, I got up and was very excited to go to school, but it was all in Swedish so the majority of my understanding came down to a piece of paper with important Swedish words that Felicia had made for me. The Math teacher graciously welcomed me, a boy came up and thought I was new student thanks to his friends’ April Fool’s joke, and I looked through Felicia’s books in class and searched for those similar word that I could understand thanks to German. Thursday night, me and Felicia pulled out all of the glitter and sequined covered clothes in her closet, which was a lot, and got ready for a birthday party! I selected a black, high-waisted skirt with Felicia’s black sequined vest and my pink tank top, a combination that I wasn’t sure if I was brave enough to wear outside the house. We met up with a friend of Felicia's and took a subway out of the city where the snow was still on the ground, the water was still frozen, and the houses looked more like pictures from a book. Inside Elvira’s, the birthday girl’s, house, everything was completely and totally white with the lightest birch on the floors so every other color seemed to pop against the background. The windows lining the house showed a view below that no photo could do it justice. While I looked at all the girls showing up, I leaned over to Felicia and whispered: “One of my German friends told me about how she always thinks of Swedes as so fashionable and so beautiful. I am sitting here and looking at you guys and the word ‘glamorous’ keeps popping in my head. This is like a movie and completely glamorous.” Felicia laughed and pointed it out that this was a 18^th birthday party, and they don’t normally have champagne glasses in their hands either. It was a great night.

(I recognize that I can’t tell about everything in such detail, so I’m going to try to hurry it up from here on out)

Friday morning, we woke up then Felicia, her dad, and I made our way to the airport. Sweden had blessed us with some sun, so I could see all of its glory out of a little 4-person plane that Felicia’s dad could fly. It was my personal tour of Stockholm and the greater Sweden. We saw everything from the sky: the castle, Felicia’s house, the landmarks, and the vastness of 20,000 islands stretching out to form such an archipelago. No tour from a bus down on the ground could have shown that or how the ice was slowly melting now and the tracks where it was or had been thick enough for cars to drive across.  Driving out to the reaches of Sweden’s border almost in Finland, Felicia pulled diet coke and cinnamon buns out of a bag her dad had brought. How perfect! Later back on the ground, we prettied ourselves up for a nice Good Friday dinner at a famous hotel down in the harbor. On our way to the restaurant is where my lovely children’s book begins; we found a Swedish flag that was a fitting gift for the American. Dinner was great, and our eyes were bigger than our stomachs as we saw the amazing buffet. I took this as my opportunity to try caviar and herring, both of which weren’t my taste; however, the dessert buffet was. Felicia, her sisters (Carolina and Viktoria), and I all loaded up our plates and cleaned them off as quickly as possible.

Saturday, Felicia and I took my flag around the city for it’s first official tour of Stockholm with the American. She showed me the beautiful “Old Town,” and my flag bounced happily out of my purse. The bright orange colors of the buildings were something I had never expected in Stockholm, but they shined brilliantly in the afternoon sun. I posed for photos with my flag around the city, the castle, the harbor, near the museums, on our way to McDonalds for ice cream, and in a store. At the castle, an older woman came up to us and asked why we were carrying the flag, thinking we were both just random Swedish teenagers with a flag. Felicia had to explain the mix up in Swedish, but she would start speaking English. I was rubbing off on her. : ) The woman started talking to me in English and surprised me by asking if I was “brain washed” too. She was referring to how we said the pledge of allegiance with hands over our hearts. Is that brain washed? All in all, it was quite a successful day.

Sunday was Easter, but we woke up and continued on my tour of Sweden to see the inside of the castle and couple other museums. To explain the history Viktoria joined us, but we were all confused as we walked to the castle and they were doing a huge ceremony. The soldiers had huge guns and were brandishing knives. Yes, I am aware of the American military and their guns, but it was uncomfortable for me to see the soldier not let a hand off his gun, even though there was no one of importance there. Weird. We saw the castle, still decorated with styles from the 17^th century, and Felicia and Viktoria told me a little about Swedish history where the words “queen” and “king” stood out funny to me. We visited the treasury and a museum of the crown underneath the castle, which were all really interesting. I didn’t think about it much, but it was Easter. A day normally began with church and Easter hug hunts. Instead, we continued our day with eating yummy cake and a coffee shop, buying jeans, and then going to the gym to work off some of the candy we had been eating. The gym open on Easter? Nothing was weird about that. Felicia’s mom and her sister were leaving early the next morning to have a mother-daughter trip in Paris, so we said our goodbyes but not before eating a wonderful Easter dinner and finishing it off with ice cream and tons of “thank yous.”

(Stupid BlogSpot won't let me turn the photo...)

Monday, we woke up to a thin layer of snow in Stockholm, so our plans of visiting an outdoor zoo/museum were scrapped for a day of baking instead. Felicia pulled out the ingredients for traditional Swedish cinnamon and vanilla buns, and I happily helped wherever I could. Over three hours later, there were over fifty warm buns on the counters even though a good deal of the dough was eaten in the baking process. After painting our nails too, Felicia, Viktoria, and I got ready and went to the movies to see “Remember Me.” Even after Viktoria told me all about the movie and I saw the trailer, the ending still came as a shock to me. I would recommend you see it, so I can’t ruin it too much, but it was still my first time sitting in a movie theater with a movie in English in almost 8 months. (Sweden has only 9 million people, so most American movies and TV shows are played here in English, versus in Germany where synchronizing and dubbing voices is a huge industry)

Tuesday was recognized as my last full day in Sweden, which would have been a lot sadder if Viktoria hadn’t gotten up early and made amazing pancakes, covered in strawberries. We gobbled them up despite their beauty. Then Felicia put the question out there: “What do you want to do on your last day?” This meant meeting her friend at the Stockholm city library then going out for ice cream and sitting on the King’s Garden, collecting my last souvenirs from Stockholm, buying chocolate and picking out candy to take back to Germany, checking out the stores, and taking the requested photos of Felicia’s shower for my mom. We finished the night off with movies in Felicia’s room like we had been accustomed to and then Sushi for dinner.

Sleeping in Felicia’s water bed, I was going to miss that. Seeing the water around me as I walk over bridges, I was going to miss that. Talking in English and it not being my problem when people had issues with the language, I was going to miss that too. Hanging out with Felicia even if we were only watching Gossip Girl, I was definitely going to miss that. I miss it already. Coming back to Germany, I pulled my bags back down to my room and immediately put the Swedish flag up on my wall, that was a part of Sweden that I didn’t want to forget. In my blood, I am a quarter Swedish and a quarter German which both have proved a pretty big importance to me.

So, thanks for holding on and reading everything if you did. Congratulations! That’s my experience of Sweden in a nutshell.

TIME

The last seconds of Physics drag on so slowly. A night with friends is gone in the blink of an eye. Hours of pondering while staring out the bus window turn out to have been just 12 minutes. The last 8 months in Germany seem to have just flown by at a speed of way too fast, even though the next 2 months look so long and scary. Time is one of the trickiest things out there. One of my exchange friends, Josh Tokioka, coined this quote: Time is in relativity.

My perspective of time has changed since I’ve been here. People going on 5 month exchanges, who complain about homesickness, seem a little weird to me, because I just think of when I had been in Germany for 5 months, I still had 5 months left at that point. The idea of college doesn’t seem scary at all, because at least you go home during breaks and random weekends. Even more on top of all that, it used to take an hour to drive down to downtown Dallas and how often did we do that? Not very often, less than once a week probably. Here, I’m sitting on a bus or train or waiting at the train station after my bus dropped me off a little early and will end up spending over an hour in transportation to go visit a friend for a couple hours, and it doesn’t bother me.

For example, it is an 8 minute train to get to the main train station, then I have to wait 11 minutes for the next bus, which I’ll sit on for 32 minutes until I get to another town, where then I’ll walk 3 minutes and get ready for dance class: 54 minutes later. The best of part of this story is that I could drive there in less than 15 minutes from driveway to parking lot, if I was just allowed to drive here and had a car. Then again, not worrying about gas and being able to get everyone is very nice, no matter how long it takes.

I flip through my photos organized by months, and I see the following titles:

August- Leaving and Language Camp

September- Moving to Aachen, Kayaking, and Trying on Dirndls

October- Oktoberfest, Herbstferien, a Tea Party

November- Fall in Aachen, our Chorfahrt, and our American Thanksgiving

December- Adventzeit and Christmas

January- Snow, CBYX Seminar in Köln

February- Karneval and Aschaffenburg

March- Jana’s Birthday, Holland, Tango practice, and Auschwitz

April- Sweden, Münster

My feeling of time is different. I’ll be in America again in a little less than 2 months and 2 weeks. It is scarier to me that I can remember back 2 months and 2 weeks ago, and it feels just like yesterday.


NEXT BLOG: SWEDEN (please expect within week)