Oh, the places you will go... and what you might do there

So, I'm watching Harriet the Spy (old 90's movie, produced by Nickolodeon when they were hip) and relized, after taking my final this morning, I should have calculated my grade before deciding on putting no effort into my HON 252 (aka HUM 212) final. I was fairly certain I would be okay, but I wanted to check.

So, of course, I bust out my trusty TI-30X solar calc (I could marry a Texas Instruments calculator. I'm good at math, but my mental math... eh, not so hot. Well, it depends I guess on what I'm doing... I think I might still be okay at doing a derivative and FOIL and finding proportions...). Anyway, I start off with worst case scenario: 80%. Huh. 93.8% for the course.

Of course, then I wonder what the lowest I could have make to receive 90% for the course. I keep working my way down until I get to 46%. Freaking unbelievable. I could fail the final and still have an A in the class. All of a sudden, I'm glad I didn't put that much effort into the final for the class, because I busted by behind the entire semester to make the John (our program director/course instructor) feel like the class wasn't a total waste (because everyone else did).

So, looking back, I realized my late night rant to Chris (I might post it sometime when I get the chance to edit all the expletives I littered throughout the conversation. Out of respect for those of you who do read this, I realize that my language probably is a bit rougher than is necessary at times and I don't want you to think I need to sensationalize this with language. We'll talk about my opinion on expletives later.) was possibly a combination of a bad day/lack of food/irritation/in the doldrums of bottomless despair.

I'm not quiting college, albeit because I have no where else to go.

But after realizing I'm possibly receiving all A's this semester, my mood has perked up a little. But not by much mind you. Just enough to think that maybe I'll buy some ice cream for myself later.

Cheers.

... counting to 10 is more difficult than it looks...

"God, grant me the serenity
To accept the things I cannot change;
Courage to change the things I can;
And wisdom to know the difference."

... and God? Just between you and me and all the people who read this blog, I hope you're a strong advocate in the process of karma.

The idea that karma exists is the ONLY thing that is making me press onward with tomorrow. This is no joke, God. I'm serious... as serious as a human can be toward a being they believe is the cause for their very existance. I mean, this isn't a threat or anything. I'm just saying, retribution should be swift and visible tomorrow.

Feel free to bust out anything old school like flames or hail storms or locusts. Are locusts indigenous to Germany, God? I mean, if they aren't, eighty-six the insects. It's not really fair of me to ask you to actively involve yourself in old school justice and on top of that defy basic biological ecosystems. It really isn't, no sarcasm intended.

But, you know, God, today was not fair at all for me. Yes, I'm supposed to be an adult about everything and just tell myself, "Oh, well. That's life. Just do your best."

No, God. I refuse. I've done that one too many times and have not recieved any sort of encouragment.

Not fair.

Not one iota.

"Tell him to stay gold... or something..."

So, as I doubt that anyone on the program reads my blog, this isn't so much a confession as it's just a detailing of facts from the past couple of days. Explicit language might follow. Ok, I lie. It will follow. This is a rant.

I've been sick since last Tuesday. I had to go to the hospital on Saturday. I've had the flu, a stab-like pain in my side, and I thought I was having a heart attack (which apparently were heavy muscle spasms... I'm not really sure. The doctor didn't speak great English. He just said I was "tip-top.")

But that's only half the reason I've been in a foul and intolerant mood.

I'm sick and tired of giving trying more than anyone else to pretend that this is actually college related. By this, I mean the lectures that are called "classes" but are actually more like periods of time where you're welcome to learn something if you feel like it. Most people put their traveling before the classes and, you know, I could care less.

I care when my valuable time is wasted. For example, I'm pretty sure in GER 101 there are some pretty suck ass grades floating around because a couple of weeks ago, everyone was screaming for extra credit. There was the first of my annoyances. College was supposed to be a challenge to yourself, not a desperate attempt for a good GPA so you can get some crap ass job you think you might like after not being quite sure what you want to do with a degree. And I'm pretty sure I've never once been in a class where someone was brave enough to ask for extra credit.

Honestly, I'd be embarrassed if my grade was that horrible I felt the need for extra credit... especially here because the GER 101 class is easier than ENG 101. That is no joke. Well, I possibly exagerate because I never had to take ENG 101. It might have had something to do with me coming out of high school (and subsequent years of public schooling) knowing what an indefinite article is. Just a guess on my part.

So, all this week I've not given a shit about what my attitude has been toward others (more specifically, those who felt the need to screw around this entire time). I guess my breaking point came yesterday. In light of the knowledge that our the majority of our class might be a little slow at the English language (much less German) our German teacher was nice enough to give a detailed review of EVERYTHING we'd need to know for the test today.

The people who expressed extreme concern for their grade on the test today and who had screamed for extra credit, almost got an earful. From me. Instead of maybe taking the opportunity to listen for once, they fucked around taking pictures and video of this guy in our class who apparently looks like Robert Pattinson (of Twilight film fame... don't get me started). They started an album on Facebook. There is proof.

I walked out of the classroom in the middle of lecture. I couldn't take it. I walked around the building, looked at flyers, and tried to keep my cool.

And of course, the stuff with the humanities class.

I just can't find the will to go on being nice and tolerant in class. Quite honestly, it's not fair for anyone to expect me to. I participate and I study and I complete homework. I refuse to pretend like I'm ok with stupidity from this day forward.

I know that knowledge should be a reward in itself, but I'm not a great human being like that. I don't see these people suffering any immediate negative consequences so I feel indignant. Who the fuck cares if their grade suffers? What good does that do for me? They'll still graduate one day. They'll still get jobs and people will still respect them (for some reason). Even if it was just the denial of extra credit, I would have felt that my hard work was justified, you know?

Anyway, I'm not sure when I'm going to get out of this mood so I can't promise that the optimistic and happy rating for my next few blogs will shoot through the roof.

Cheers.

"So, why don't you update your pictures or videos?"

Um. Simple. One, the Picassa Web uploader Blogger uses to connect your pictures here is not reliable. I have uploaded hundreds of pictures and none of them show as updated when I want to switch slideshows.

The video is my fault. First, I should have realized I'm not too big on making videos featuring my voice and second, my computer cannot handle the massive awesomeness of a video being edited.

So, there you go. I might try to do one last upload out of desperation, but I might just have to start a flickr account and post the link so you guys can see all the thousands of useless pictures I've taken. As far as video... I'm not quite sure that's ever going to come back.

Not while using this computer anyway.

Ok. Glad we cleared that up.

Cheers.

Frustration to the infinite power

There we were, discussing Sartre's "Existentialism." I knew this was going to be heavy stuff. Most of the people in the humanities/honors course were heavily into their Christian beliefs (I say their own personal ideas, because most of them express some deviation from the literal teachings of the Bible).

I can't even remember what we were talking about. It had been pretty heated (although I didn't really pay much mind. I was working on a small art project made of page tabs in neon colors. This stuff was easy compared to classes I've had before like this). And then I heard this:

"Life is just like go to college, get a job, maybe have a family, be miserable at your job and then die or whatever... it's so cylindrical... It's depressing..."

My first incliniation was to suggest maybe it was "cyclic" instead of "cylindrical," but then the better part of me kicked in. Internally it went something like this:


"Wait. Wait. Wait.... Did she just acknowledge her life maybe had more to it and then deny it?"

I should mention that this girl also didn't like the use of the word, "purpose," in describing the point of life. She liked to believe that she was just in a "good place in life."

And I sit there. The conversation rolls on. I finally say something like it's sad that people think that way, but in reality, I knew she was talking about herself. She was sitting there, admitting to herself that her life might be a little lacking and brushed it off.

This really doesn't even touch how sad and frustrated and depressed I am over today's discussion in humanities. When I read it, I felt this catharsis because I am in the middle of experiencing despair and anguish and fornlorness over religion and my own belief systems and I was stupid in thinking others would see it to.

And now, I have to admit to myself that my fellow human beings want nothing better than the bare minimum in the way of understanding how to live, why we live, and to what purpose we keep living... a good majority anyway.

Really, my day is a smidge ruined. I had another girl tell me once I presented ideas that made her think and that I was so intelligent. Well, good heavens! Here it was, staring her in the face. Written on the paper are the words "condemned to freedom." Maybe 4 pages describing things I think about all the time. And she ignored it. Instead of thinking for themselves, I'm afraid to discover that most are happy to be an observer to thoughts.

And I am so infinitely sad. So, so very sad.

The Danglish-Spanglish One

So, I get tired of constantly rambling about being a hyper-introspective twenty-something in Europe. I do have other interests. So enter in: "The Danglish-Spanglish One."

Hopefully, this little project I'll keep up with. I've actually taken quite a liking to German and, in general, I'll be resuming my Spanish studies in the states (after a year hiatus of pretending to know something about art).

What can you expect from this blog? Lots of strange words, interesting connections, and my frustrated ramblings about the American education system.

So, maybe it'll be fun. This blog was a little late in starting, I suppose. However, I'll still be studying both Spanish and German when I return to the states so, hopefully that'll keep things interesting.

Any feedback?

Cheers.

Down to the Wire

Today, being November 8th, marks the one month countdown. Quite honestly, I can't believe it.

I never thought I would like German this much, or Germany for that matter. However, after my experience in Italy I know one thing: culture shock hits me most when I know nothing of the language. At least with German, I knew enough of it to get around in the first couple of weeks here (thanks to my German phrasebook and asking a lot of questions the first couple of days). After one day in Venice, I was ready to leave Italy. I think what made it worse was that it LOOKED like Spanish and I felt like I should know it, but, of course, it's not Spanish.

But, I've returned. I was at the hospital yesterday, but we'll talk about that later if I feel like it... honestly, I feel horrible and I've been put on bedrest.

I should be working on a paper that's due this Friday, but I haven't even touched it. These last two weeks of school will be the hardest because I'm not just finishing up the semester; I have to also worry about packing and getting home. Believe me, English everywhere will be a shock. I know I should be working on the paper. I have time... but I might just do it tomorrow.

My German 105 class has ended so that means extra time for me in the afternoons... and I get to hear less bitching from everyone. That's been the most annoying part of being on a non-language intensive program; everyone is here to be on a safer version of the "back packing through Europe" phase in their life and the parents support it because it's called "study abroad." Bunch of crap in my opinion. Europe is now a Mecca for all twenty-somethings to go on a fact-finding, soul-searching journey before the "real" adult life begins. And, thanks to the wonders of modern-day tourism, every soul-searching adult can buy a t-shirt of the brief Nirvana they've found here. And thanks to the wonders of other countries realizing it's important to learn more than just their own language, these twenty-somethings are free to use English all they like.

I'm ranting I know. It's this whole 11 day Fall Break thing. Everyone finally stopped bitching about not having enough time and they went somewhere. When they come back, they'll continue to bitch about having classes.

Ah. But I'll shut up. I have too much to rant about today. Maybe later I'll talk about it.

Cheers.

Oh the splendor of Venice... kinda

Italy seems to be the ideal of everyone's "where to go before you get busy in life." I'm at a loss why.

Upon arriving Venice via the Santa Lucia train station, I was immediately glad to be rid of the fiasco that was the sleeper car. I ended up on the top bunk of a six bed compartment that was anything but spacious. My worst fear was rolling off the bed at a sudden stop. That and the people we shared the beds with weren't my choice bedmates: the Japanese guy hardly spoke English, Italian, or German and had caused the aforementioned language complication fiasco wanting to lock his luggage to the ladder which was going to be used by a couple of people; the English guy who was nice enough. I think he was a doctor because we talked about healthcare reforms for about two hours this morning and he mentioned working for the NHS (or whatever the British healthcare system is called); and the two Italians. I'm not sure if all Italians are this strange or rude but one wanted the overhead light on the entire evening so she oculd read and, I found this out after the event, the man (who we assumed was married to the woman) tried multiple times to propostion my friend I'm traveling with, assuring her that she shouldn't be scared because it was going to be her "first time with an Italian." Upon hearing about this I laughed and then suddenly became serious saying, "You should have woken me up. I would have spat out the nastiest German I knew. Even 'Das ist die Katze.'"

So, we arrive and, our good luck, our hostel is fairly easy to find and close to the train station. The only bad part is we have to wait 3 hours to check in. So, we store our luggage at the train station and explore. We walked around and took a waterbus to the Rialto Bridge and shopped and ate in the "Heart of Venice" (at least that was what the sign said). I ate at "Pronto Pesce," some place that had been featured on a food show on the Travel Channel. Visiting the Mercato del Pesce was probably my favorite part of the day. In Regensburg, "Fischmarkt" is only a bus stop (although it used to be the fish market). Here, fish market meant just that: fresh seefood everywhere. I've seen open air markets before with cow body parts everywhere, but fish is more appealing to me.

At noon we check in and relaxed. I haven't been feeling well since yesterday and I'm a little worried to be honest. I'll have to go to the doctors when I get back to Regensburg. Either that or talk to the program director and see what he thinks.

After taking a break, we went out again and found San Marco Plaza with the bascilica and walked around. I ate gelatto and chastised myself for not bringing my camera. All the vendors had lights, so it would have made a nice picture.

Now, it's getting to be that time and soon we'll be off again. I haven't quite decided if I like Italy or not. The weather has been lousy and the place seems a bit more run down than my romantic ideals of the place would like me to believe. Actually, I have a friend who's inviting me to come along at the end of next May to Italy because his family owns a townhouse south of Venice. I haven't quite decided on what to do there. I'd like to come back when the weather is nicer and bring my nice camera and take photos because I won't have to worry about paying for the plane ticket or lodgings. We'll see what to do about that later. I'm more concerned about how my summer classes might play out.

So, that's it. My quick run through of Venice, Italy: the city on water. I can confirm it is defintiely on water.

Alright then. Cheers.

The Vienna Recap

Since I haven't blogged since first arriving to Vienna, I thought I'd give a short recap of the adventure before going onto the new topic: Venice (my current location).

After settling into our room, we made our way down to the city center and ate at some place called Shanghai Resturant and had chicken in oyster sauce and a Chinese beer. They also treated us to some gluhwein (umlaut that "u" though). It is my new favorite autumn drink; the warm wine tastes like a sweet, spicy cider. We headed back to our room and that was the end of day one.

Day two we had a couple of things on our "to see" list: the Hundertwasserhaus, the Riesenrad, and the Haus der Meeres (the aquarium). We found the Hunderwasserhaus with a little trouble but it was astonishing. We even ate in a cafe in the complex to experience the oddness of the architecture. While walking to the Riesenrad, we also found the Kunst Haus Wien (Vienna Art House) and took pictures of it (Ann Leibovitz had an exhibition there and she's not one of my favorites). About 10 minutes later we made it to the Prater Garten and found the Riesenrad (giant wheel... so obviously a farris wheel). Finally, we found our way to the Haus der Meers, an old World War II bunker with a sign on top saying, "In the dark of the night, all smashed to pieces" (or it was something like that). The aquarium was about 5 floors of not only fish, but reptiles, insects, and amphibians as well. They even had a large tank full of koi fish that you could touch. I had my hand in cold water for about ten minutes and touched a couple. After that, we did a little wandering around and some shopping (I bought a new scarf and kept drooling over a 200 Euro pair of Armani sunglasses). The end of day two.

Day three, we had to check out by ten and then we ran off to our train station to see if maybe they had lockers for our luggage so we could run around all day with nothing to worry about. Turns out our train station did not (Vienna has three train stations). So we ran to one of the larger stations and threw our luggage in there. We visited the Schloss Schonbrunn (umlaut the "o" in "schon," please) and the Tiergarten ("animal garden" = "zoo"). I love going to zoos in foreign countries because they seem more relaxed about the rules. In the Monkey House, they had a couple of small monkeys that ran around loose and you could touch them (as long as you were careful... we saw one women get bit). But the best part was the bat cave. We weren't sure if we could go in, but it was a large cave with bats flying all around you, no glass or anything. It was terrifying and at the end proclaimed that I knew why Bruce Wayne became Batman. We then decided to do one last thing and visit the Nasch Market (just a big, open-air market). I had baklava and gluhwein and all was perfect in the world.

We had a small snag in finding our train to Venice because it turned out our train split in Salzburg and we didn't know what that was in German, so we were a little confused. Then, there was some issue with a beds in our compartment (language issues: Japanese, English, Italian, and German all being thrown around), but all was setteld and now we're here... well, we've been here for a good bit.

Until later, cheers.

"Let's get the hell out of Munich."

The adventure begins at about 9:30 am yesterday morning (Saturday Okt. 31, Halloween):

After only sleeping for about 3 hours (I've been having trouble getting enough sleep at nights), I wake up with a tremendous headache and the faint sensation that I should feel panicked because I haven't packed for this week vacation yet. That and the feeling that some animal has used my mouth as a toilet. Nothing Crest couldn't solve.

So, I wake up and shower and start throwing every possible thing I could conceive as being needed into my small luggage case, as well as trying to remember when I ate a large meal last (because my eating habits haven't been so great either lately). I have until about 3 pm to get things settled because I wanted some time at the train station to assure that everything would be peachy keen before our 3:46 departure for Munich. So, 2:50 pm comes around and the first snafu of our trip has begun: usually the buses aren't too croweded on the weekends. Apparently, an exception is made on holidays. I had completely forgotten about Halloween. So, between the two of us (me and a friend from the program are traveling together) with 5 bags altogether, we had to squeeze onto the bus. I'm still optimistic.

Upon walking from Albertstrasse (the main bus stop) to the Hauptbahnhof (the main train station), we arrive with plenty of time to spare. We buy a Bayern ticket that assures us for the low, low price of 28 Euro, we are guaranteed safe passage on any transport vehicle in Bayern (Bavaria). I take some money out of the ATM (Automatgeld) and make the sorry mistake of buying a fish sandwich instead of my standard pretzel at the bakery. We take our luggage, get onto landing 4, and wait patiently for our train. Usually, arriving to the platform early means you'll usually find a good seat. Not the case. Halloween has every form of transportation we've planned on using packed. I spent the first hour and a half to Munich sitting in a fold-down seat in the middle of an aisle in front of the wildly popular WC (Water closet = restroom). For the last hour, we move into one of the larger hallways and end up standing. Again, in front of an equally popular WC. Scale of my optimism: 8.2 out of 10.

We hop off the train and head off to the Reisezentrum (Travel center) to obtain a Munich train schedule (in the event anything goes wrong) and to see if maybe we can find a map, because we still have a concert to get to in Munich before running off and having wild adventures in Vienna, Austria. We find a place to store our luggage and I change my shoes to a pair of heels so I'll look presentable. We had two tickets to see a performance of Handel's Wassermusick and I was pretty excited. Just a note of warning: if you ever Google "Munich Opera House schedule" and are given a schedule, make sure it's at the Munich Opera House. Both of the performances we were scheduled to see were at the Nymphenburg Palace. Optimism has decreased to about 6 out of 10.

We buy a 30 cent map and ask for directions from the tourist center. We find the tram to Schloss Nymphenburg easily enough and my optimism soars to about 8 again. I'm feeling confident even after trying to find the palace while it was dark. I'm sure it's gorgeous during the day, but during night it's a little scary. There's water everywhere and it looks like a large amount of private property. We're walking along the sidewalk next to the creek (or whatever it was) that, apparently, leads into a VERY large pond. We were walking and laughing and my friend was taking pictures... and we were about two steps away from walking into the pond. There were no railings and our sidewalk had eneded. My friend only noticed it ended because she had looked up from her camera. I had been paying little attention. Despite an almost watery plunge and a 15 minute walk to the front entrance (it's a very large palace), my optimism is at a 9. We've made it to checkpoint 1 on the leg of our week journey.

We walk in, get our tickets and I order a refreshing Apfelschorle (carbonated apple juice. Don't knock it until you've tried it). We stand around for a while, surrounded by people talking (whom I cannot understand at all, because it's all German) and they finally allow admittance into the concert. I'm excited. We walk up and I proudly present my ticket. One of the doormen looks at me with a disgusted look on his face and begins to harrass me in German (in the nicest way possible). I caught the phrase "Garderobe" and "grosse tasche." Basically, I had to check in my "large bag" into the jacket closet. This is nothing new; it's happened before. Until I had to pay 2 Euro for some woman to give me a piece of paper with a number on it and she uses a clothespin to attach a piece of paper with a corresponding number. I'm a little disgruntled so my optimism is about at 8 out of 10.

We find our seats, which are only ten feet away from the stage and I'm pretty excited, despite the lack of a program. We watch the program for an hour and, after that one hour, everyone takes a big bow and they begin walking off stage. They even take the fortepiano away (for the longest time we were stumped as to what the actual identity of the instrument was; my friend thought it was a glockenspiel, but I was certain that was more like a xylophone. A quick look at Wikipedia cleared up the confusion).

So, we think, "Not too bad." A nice concert, even if it was only an hour, but I didn't know how these things worked in Germany. I was just happy to have gone. So, we begin leaving, walking down the same path we had came down from when we realize everyone is still in the reception hall, eating snacks and whatnot. Surely, it was over. They had made it seem so final and there was no mention of an intermission. There was even a ticket option for dinner so maybe they were staying for dinner. We kept debating this amongst ourselves until we got back to the tram. We decided if the fortepiano (we were calling it the Glockenspiel, for lack of a better word) away, then it was over. We'll never know. My optimism was a steady 8.5 out of 10.

We arrive back to the Hauptbahnhof and decide we need food after a nice cultural experience. Of course, McDonald's is the obvious choice. Happily eating my Euro McChicken, an order of "grosser Pommes" (large fries), and a "kleiner schoko-shake" (small chocolate shake), I was in good spirits. I hardly eat at McDonald's in the states, but you'll be surprised at how good it tastes when it's familiar. I bought a Happy Meal in Regensburg and, after sticking my head into the box to smell the contents, proclaimed that, "It smells like America in a box." I never once ate in a McDonald's in Mexico, but I have no qualms eating it here when my alternative options more than likely included some pork based product. No, I haven't been able to eat pork. I've asked people for small bites of bratwurst and schnitzel, but all have been a little gross. I stick with the chicken/turkey alternatives. Optimism is now at about 9.

We have to stand around and wait for at least 2 hours for the train. During this time, my optimism gradually plummets to 6 out of 10. I was cold and I hadn't slept well the night before; I was ready to crash and we had regular seats on a night train (no sleeper coach). I bought a book (besides the two others I had brought along with me to read) and decided that our train was coming up, so we decided to haul our luggage out of storage. We do so and my friend goes to buy a bottle of water before the trip. I buy another bottle of Apfelschorle since the glass I'd had at the concert was pretty good.

Our train arrives and I'm a little hesitant. Here in Europe, you get to know the trains and what sets them apart country to country. The train that had pulled up was definitely not German. I was a little hesitant. I look at the destination board and see it's final destination is Budapest. Hmm. We get on the train and hope for the best. I read for the first hour and passed out until our transfer in Austria. Not the best sleep I've ever gotten but everyone was quiet. Optimism was still at a 6 at the transfer station because I was clod and tired and having to haul my luggage.

Our transfer train comes and it's empty. I silently thank God that the last hour of our journey is a little more pleasant than the first six. We ride the train all the way to the Wien Westbahnhof and, using the directions the hostel gave me, we found our way easily to our place. Excited at the prospect of sleeping in a bed, I was feeling pretty good about this trip. Until there was no one at the reception desk. Confused we go back outside and ring the bell. Inside a woman begins to yell at us in German. Apparently the reception would not open until 7:30 am. It was only 7 am, so we decided it wasn't so bad.

Then, a young man walks in and goes behind the reception desk and asks if he could help us. Well, thank heavens.

"We need to check-in," I said.
He looks at me, confused. "Check-in doesn't begin until at least 2 pm."
I look back at him as if he's just spoken Czech to me. I turn to my friend. "What did he say?"
"He said we can't check in until 2 pm."

We've just spent the last six hours in the commons louge where the only lighting is multi-colored neon lights. I kept racking my brain, knowing I had thought check-in was good for any time. Upon discovering I had WiFi acces in our room, I checked out our hostel reservation and there it was: "No curfew. 24 hour access and check in."

So despite that being the low point of our trip so far, we're here and in one piece. We're about 20-30 minutes away from the city center (via bus) but we're on top of a hill here with a great view of the city.

So, let's hope this is the worst part of the trip.

Cheers.