I have taken a lover.

Dear Ampelmann,

You and I both knew this day would come. From the day we met, no matter our intense attraction to each other, this would always be just a fling. I am a student studying abroad--it could never work out. I have to go home, to the US, and finally graduate and attempt to use my useless liberal arts degree to find work. Ma

ybe my life will steer towards Germany again. But I don't know, and it would be foolish to lead you on.

We've had some good times, times I will surely miss. Coming to Germany unable to speak to anyone, except the majority of people around who speak English, I can now order coffee and in theory buy furniture and rent an apartment--those practice dialogs and conversations never take into account real conversation though. Unfortunately, I don't think I can continue my Deutsch lernen back at UMD since I'd love to graduate sometime before I'm 30, but I hope that all this progress I've made in the German language doesn't completely go by the wayside--one day, if our destiny is to meet again, dear Ampelmann, I should like to be able to converse with you properly. I will also miss the efficient public transportation, the obsession with recycling, and being able to see huge landmarks everywhere I look. The Brandenburger Tor still has not lost its majesty and I still am surprised by how easy it is to find the TV tower wherever you are in the city. Maybe my eyes are still drawn to it. I've lived in DC and for a short time in NYC--you'd think these landmarks would become second nature. But I guess its still new and exciting.

I am glad to be going home. Especially because of Christmas and this awkward transition week, and because finals suck no matter the country. Yet I feel guilty--like I should be so excited about my German adventure that I should be dreading my return home. But home will always be home, especially during Christmas. I want to cuddle with my dog on my couch and try to get a good picture of the two of us where he cooperates . . . 11 years of no cooperation on one of our parts, if not both, stops now! And as much as I love public transit and not needing a car, I miss driving. But I dread what is inevitable--as soon as I leave, its over. Coming back to Berlin will never be the same. Both for the people, the program--pros and cons with both of those--and the fact that probably when I come back I won't be living here. Instead, I will be touristing. With different people, with hopefully a decent job and a college degree . . . my, won't the whole world look different. My, won't I be different.

My beloved Ampelmann, this is goodbye, both to you and to Berlin. It has been a blast. I've learned a lot, both about Germany and about myself, a lot of which I probably haven't figured out yet. I've met some amazing people and seen some amazing things. I can't wait to come back, or spend more than two days in London or Prague or Munich. But until then, beloved Ampelmann, stay green. Or red, depending on your mood. We will be reunited one day, even if only in our dreams.

With love,

Deine Amanda

Ich bin dankbar für . . .

Thanksgiving is a traditional American holiday that I think has mostly become a joke to Americans. We eat a lot of Turkey, watch football, sit around with random cousins and have the same small talk you had the year before ("So Amanda, have a boyfriend? How's school?" etc) and if we do remember what this holiday is supposed to signify, it is mostly joking about how after this meal Americans then spent 200 years killing Indians. Which, let's face it, is true . . . but that is not the point. The point is we should take this day to express our thanks to the people and things that perhaps we have not for the rest of the year. Forced, yes, but appreciated . . . also a yes.

This year was not my first Thanksgiving away from my family, but unlike last year which I spent doing final papers alone in my apartment, this year Dr. Liu invited the UMD group and some of her friends here to a big feast. Turkey, cranberry sauce, sweet potatoes, gravy--and a Turkish/German touch with delicious couscous and Turkish Pizzas. Even though I was forced to express my thankfulness in very inarticulate--and probably completely wrong--German, it was an enjoyable evening and it was nice to hang out in a mostly school-free setting. (Except for the German speaking.) We also played a German board game for children which showed how little of German geography I actually know and I think the evening was all in all a great time. I am glad that out of the country we found a way to have our own traditions, altered of course a little by the fact that we are in Germany, and I am especially grateful for the turkey. :-)

As Thanksgiving is the official start of the holiday season for Americans, I was not surprised to see that in Germany also Christmas starts way before December 24th. A number of Weihnachtsmarkts are popping up all over Berlin, some more commercial than others. There is a fake sledding hill at Potsdamer Platz that is definitely on my todo list and I hear there's a roller coaster at Alexanderplatz which Meredith may have bruised her nose on . . . that however has not deterred my desire to go on it. Yet there are other reasons for these things--little traditional gifts, Christmas ornaments, thick paper stars, and of course lots of food. I'm hoping to do what little Christmas shopping I have left at one of these markets, with hopefully a Glühwein in one hand and a sausage in the other. I'm hoping my last 2 weeks (actually 13 days now) can be filled with something traditionally German like these markets as opposed to just final exams and trying to cram everything I own in 2 suitcases.

Something perhaps not traditionally German but also Christmas-y that I saw this weekend was the giant decorations at KaDeWe. I'm sure every American has

watched the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade at least once and has heard of, if not seen for themselves, the window decorations at Macy's flagship store in Herald Square. Even though Herald Square now has an H&M, among other stores, and is a bustling shopping center throughout the year, people come out in droves to see the decorations in the windows at Macy's. Yet KaDeWe has a different kind of draw--while it has some Christmas themed windows, it is what is inside that is the most important. There are decorated trees, snow-covered ivy, Santas, ornaments . . . it is quite a sight, and also crowded with people shopping or looking. The Christmas decorations on the streets are equally as beautiful, though I feel like Christmas homesickness is perhaps an all new animal. I am still having mixed emotions about leaving Berlin--I finally feel settled here, it's even more beautiful with the lights everywhere, I'm getting used to the dark at 3 and the cold--but it will be nice to be home for Christmas. I have yet to spend a Christmas away from my entire family and I am grateful that as much as I love Berlin, this is not the year for that first.

The end is near.

The most exciting part of this week was, of course, the release of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part 1. Not only would I have seen it before people back home just due to the time difference, but it came out 2 days earlier in Germany then it did in the UK and the US. So, to all you back home, ha.

As expected, the theater was packed with a number of excited Harry Potter fans, both German speaking and English speaking. Thankfully, the movie was in English, even though the first preview was dubbed in German and near gave me a heart attack. The movie was also very well done, I thought, and had a good blend of the darkness and the humor in the book. Sometimes, I found myself frustrated with the characters' emotional constipation, whether it was written in the book or made more awkward by the director. Most of the time I just wanted to shake them and tell them to talk it out, but then again that is the nature of 17-year olds . . . awkwardness and a lack of understanding for how they feel.

In retrospect, I also find myself a little jealous of the Germans in the theater. The movie was the original version, without subtitles, and the Germans chose to see this version instead of a subtitled or dubbed version--they have enough mastery of the English language to understand the film. It's one thing to be able to say basic sentences related to your job, but to understand a movie, especially a movie with lots of created words, is impressive and something I could never do after years of studying Spanish back home. My German is of course very minimal, but my Spanish could be much better, if I started younger and if I had more opportunities to use it outside of an academic setting. To learn a foreign language as a child and use it on a regular basis . . . I am jealous of Europeans for this kind of opportunity, even if they don't see it as one.

I leave here in less than three weeks. The papers and projects I have left to do stand as a constant reminder that soon, they will be done and I will be going home. How crazy is that? Part of me is ready to go home, to play with my dog, to find a job and have some sense of normalcy back. But part of me is also not at all ready . . . it was not easy for me to get here financially and it will not be easy for me to get back for a number of years. How strange a thought. Or even, will I come back soon? I've seen a lot of Berlin and very little of other cities. That thought is the wierdest I think . . . what should I do my last few days here, other then final papers?

Czech this out!

Top 3 reasons I loved Prague.

1. Chuck Norris.

2. Harry Potter.

3. EVERYTHING else.

I knew before coming to Germany that I wanted to go to Prague. I had heard it was cheap, a big plus for a struggling student, and also beautiful. But I didn't really have any other ideas about Prague or reasons for wanting to visit, and I was definitely pleasantly surprised.

Even after a 5 AM train ride from Berlin, where I lost my Parisian sunglasses (boo!), and a hectic morning trying to find the hotel, Prague could not have been a more pleasant weekend. We went on a walking tour around Old Town and the Jewish Quarter, and the streets were cute, cobblestoned, and not chock full of tourists--always a plus. I'm usually not all about older, smaller cities--I prefer New York to Boston and Berlin to Munich, but Prague had a completely different feel to it. It felt more real, in a way that I think I did not feel in either Munich or Boston. This might be due to the fact that the buildings there are actually as old as they look. There is a castle and medieval churches and bridges scattered throughout the city, saved from the destruction of both World Wars.

Charles Bridge I was particularly impressed with not only for the intense religious sculptures and towers on either end, but also the quality of street vendors. Instead of cheesy models of the bridge or postcard stands as far as the eye could see, like one would find in any other city, there were street musicians, local jewelry makers, painters . . . after buying a pair of blue handmade earrings, I had to refrain from buying a glass pair of earrings made from recycled bottles and a number of other pendants on the bridge. I was amazed by the fact that this tourist landmark--the only one I knew by name before I perused my Europe guidebook last week--is not overrun by sketchy, aggressive vendors and instead by quiet and talented artists. Never once was I hassled. Instead, a man told me about his jewelry when I had hovered for a few minutes around a pair of earrings. What a pleasant change of tourist pace.

I also felt a lack of annoyance from the locals about having to change to English to speak with me. I don't know a single word in Czech, nor can I read it with all the crazy accents on it, and I never had a problem. True, I stuck to touristy areas. But restaurants and stores and guides and even vendors selling kielbasa and Glühwein on the street spoke enough English to make me feel totally comfortable and welcome. This is a huge change from both France and Germany. While there are many places where English is common in Berlin, there are many where it is not, which becomes a struggle when I can only make simple sentences about food, furniture, and planning a trip. Many Parisians seemed downright annoyed that I had the audacity to point at a sandwich instead of learning the French word for whatever it was I wanted--but then again, that might just be a Parisian quality. While I have no issue with the German standoffishness--in fact, often I find myself rejoicing in the lack of small talk--it was nice to be among a group of generally warmer people, especially in a city I knew nothing about.

All in all, I thoroughly enjoyed our weekend in Prague and would go there again in a heartbeat. Now while I can't convey the beauty of the city with my photos--it never works the way you want it too--here are a number of shots anyway, just for good measure.

The Astronomical Clock. Voted the most disappointing tourist landmark. Well chosen, voters, well chosen.

View from the top of said Clock Tower. Best 50 krona I ever spent.

Standing on Charles Bridge.

Dean's Church (I think that's what he said) lit up in Blue and the giant statue in Old Town Square.

Wolfgang.

Last Friday, the FU-Besters went on our last required excursion--this time to the Stasi Prison Hohenschönhausen. I think this was a much harder experience then the previous week's trip--Sachsenhausen--and I have a few theories for that. Firstly, it was rainy, dreary and cold. Everything looks bleaker in bad weather, especially awful places. Secondly, it was all still standing. Much of the concentration camp had been torn down and while it did not take away from the awful-ness of what had been there--I am not trying to demean the strength it takes to visit a concentration camp--the fact that the buildings were still intact made it seem much more real and recent. Also, I think Holocaust Germany is generally what most people think about when they think about 20th century German history. Then the Cold War happened. Then David Hasselhoff sang on top of the Berlin Wall and all was well again, yay Germany. The Stasi, at least for me, was a part of history I knew about, but definitely not as much as I thought I did. The prison then was much more of a shock to me I think because I was not expecting the horrors there like I was at Sachsenhausen.

The last and most important reason why I found this excursion so difficult, and probably also so much more meaningful and intensely informative, was Wolfgang, our guide. Our larger group was split into two smaller groups--one who spoke enough German and were going to have a German speaking tour guide, and our group, which had Stephen to translate for our guide. Let me paint this picture for you: Wolfgang is probably in his 60s. He is wearing a black sweater vest and the top of a black and gray striped tie is popping out the top. On top of that, a black leather jacket. His hair is grey and he speaks no English, or at least not a lot, and he is a former prisoner of Hohenschönhausen. During the quick rundown we got through Stephen, Wolfgang is a West Berliner who was arrested in Bulgaria for helping someone cross the border. He spent a year imprisoned there and 4 weeks in Hohenschönhausen with intense interrogation before he was even charged or tried and then he was sent back to Bulgaria to serve his sentence, which I believe was another year and some months.

Wolfgang was very knowledgable about all aspects of the prison, the older part and the newer part. The older part, which closed after Stalin's death, was focused on physical torture. The rooms were dark, crowded, and contained a bucket and a too-small wooden bench as a bed. Men were physically tortured by Chinese Water Torture, where they have to kneel in a horribly uncomfortable position and put their head between two buckets and have water drip into the same spot on their head for a half hour, and apparently after some time it starts to feel like a sledgehammer, or by the standing rooms, where they stood naked and had cold water dropped over them in a room with uncomfortable slats jutting out from the wall so that they would stand for up to 3 days.

Women were asked if they wanted a warm cell or a cold cell--the warm cell would be unbearably hot with no water to drink, and the cold cell unbearably cold with no coverings. Then during interrogation, they would be offered water if they confessed.

The newer building, where Wolfgang was imprisoned, focused on psychological torture. They were completely isolated from all the other prisoners, even to the point where they couldn't see anyone else in the hall. Wolfgang told us a number of ways they would communicate however--tapping on the walls in morse code, or they would take the water out of the toilets and could communicate with the prisoner above them. He also told us about the informants disguised as other prisoners--sometimes, a prisoner would be put in a two person cell and the other person would be trained in informal interrogation and try to get information out of the prisoner. Apparently, they tried this tactic with Wolfgang and he saw through it. He said he only knew something was wrong because he wasn't a new prisoner and why would they do this all of a sudden--but even when he was saying this, he still looked proud of himself for besting the man. Good for him, I say.

Wolfgang then showed us an interrogation room and explained the many styles of interrogation they would use--much like "good cop, bad cop." When they were good cop-ing, his interrogator would have his West German cigarettes on the table or once they gave him a piece of cake. But it was always give and take--once you were given something you wanted, you were expected to give them what they want. They would make the phone ring in front of them with a button under the desk and say that your wife was in danger, your father had a heart attack, your children were being taken away. You were already deprived of sleep, of contact, of basic human needs--you were likely to confess to anything after a certain amount of time. Wolfgang told us, chuckling to himself, how he threw a plate against the wall after he was told his accusers were in the other room, yelling to see who they were. The only reason he wasn't punished was his return to Bulgaria had already been arranged.

I couldn't decide whether it warmed my heart or made me pity Wolfgang more that he could joke about interrogation or the Stasi. It takes a strong person to come back to your prison every day and give tours talking about the atrocities committed against yourself and other people just like you. Then to chuckle about your own experiences, your own smashing of a plate in the interrogation room, your own addiction to the cigarettes on the table, your own wife used against you--how far you must have come, how far he must have come since those dark days of his life. I did decide that Wolfgang must've been a badass back then and still is a bit of one now, and again, good for him. As Elena told me on Friday, I hope he's led a good life.

It's just a hop to the left.

I just double-checked my calendar to make sure only a week had passed since midterm break. For some reason, it feels like so much longer . . . even though the fact that we are this far into the semester is also a shocking feeling. I can't quite grasp time here. And what with losing daylight savings and it getting dark tonight at 5, I'm just stuck in some strange little Berlin warp. Which is fine with me, just strange.

This week was also quite a full week. Wednesday, we went to see Swan Lake at the Deutsche Oper. After a bit of a wardrobe malfunction, I arrived just in time to meet the group for the ballet. And while I tried to like it and enjoy the movements of the dancers and the juxtaposition of the colors, I don't think ballet is my thing. Yet I experienced it and for that I am grateful. In December I have a ticket to The Magic Flute and I'm hoping I enjoy that more. At least they'll be speaking.

On Thursday the UMD group went to Wittenberg to tour Martin Luther's hometown, or at least the town he lived in for much of his adult life. It was a tiny, cute little town and it was hard to believe we were still so close to Berlin. It was so different--almost like going back in time. We went inside Castle Church, the church he posted his 95 Theses on, and even though the church had been almost entirely rebuilt since Luther stood inside it, it was still pretty neat to see. We then saw St. Mary's Church, which was where Martin Luther preached and where the reformation began, and the Wittenberg University and Martin Luther's house. I was born and raised Catholic, but I am not strictly religious--more than that, I enjoy history. I not only appreciate Martin Luther's hatred of the indulgences and general greediness and corrupt behavior of the papacy at the time, but I also appreciate how this act of religious disobedience CHANGED THE WORLD. I would never have gone to Wittenberg had it not been required for class--it wasn't really on my to-do list--but I am glad I got to see it and think about how the world has changed since.

The next place we went would've been on my todo list not because it was enjoyable or pretty, but because of its world-changing magnitude also. Sachsenhausen Concentration Camp is located right outside Berlin and housed many of Hitler's political opponents from Berlin as well as Jews, Gypsies, Poles, and the other groups he deemed unworthy to be a part of his ideal Germany. What surprised me firstly was how close it was to Berlin. We often, as Americans born well after WWII, wonder how Germans could've let this happen in their country. And we learn a number of . . . what's a good word to put here . . . reasons? excuses? WWI decimated the country and the Treaty of Versailles stripped Germany of its dignity and resources. The Great Depression hit. Hard. A charismatic leader stepped forward promising jobs and a way out while also placing blame on someone else. Then of course fear--I can't step forward or I'll get locked up too. While I don't know if the little suburban streets looked anything like they do today, but we passed through little neighborhoods walking from the train station. I understand fear and mob mentality--I just don't understand how one could go to sleep at night and possibly look out their window onto a concentration camp. But I guess what could that person have done?

Sachsenhausen is still bleak and horrible looking, even when it is filled with just somber tourists. I couldn't imagine it while in working order. I was also surprised at the size of it. I was told it was a smaller camp--nothing like Auschwitz in size or murdering capacity. But it was still a huge enclosed space of land, with places where bunkers were marked so one could attempt to imagine what it was like 80 years ago. While I am glad I got to see this and take in the history of the place, it was a rough Friday afternoon.

Birthday, Bier, and Snow!

This week, I celebrated a number of things. Like everyone else, I was stoked for the end of midterms. I had three in a row on Thursday--none of which were cake walks--and spent the next two days watching That 70's Show and preparing for my bigger celebration--a visit from a friend from home and my 24th birthday, in order of importance. Bright and early Sunday morning, I picked her up from Tegel and thus began our long week of tourist-ing both in Berlin and in Munich.

It was fun to be able to show someone new what little I have learned about Berlin and Germany so far. We of course went to the Brandenburg Gate and the Reichstag and a number of other monuments and museums--the Deutches Historiches Museum is amazing, as was the Berliner Dom and the Jüdiches Museum. But you can find all these in a guidebook--what I really showed her was a love of the Ampelmann.

We also went to München for a whirlwind two days of tourist traps and mountain climbing. I won't bother to post a picture of the Glockenspiel--voted the second most disappointing tourist attraction behind the Atomic Clock in Prague, only because that one is four minutes longer. While Kayleigh loved its four out-of-tune songs playing at the same time while little men poorly jousted or danced about the plague, I thought it was a little cheesy. However, it fit perfectly into the landscape of Munich. I caught myself wondering when the cheesy kitsch would end, but then I remembered--this is where it all started. I was not in Busch Gardens or Epcot or Helen GA--a town near my grandmother's housed designed like a town in the Alps--I was actually in Munich, where it all began. And as you would expect, it was much more an endearing town then the rip-offs back home can really capture. There are tiny buildings everywhere and old-style churches and two town halls--no skyscrapers anywhere downtown. While Munich, like Berlin, was decimated after WWII, a law was passed in Munich that all the buildings in the downtown area have to look similar to the old buildings and be below a certain height and in the old style. There is no Potsdamer Platz here--their version of moving on after the war was trying to recapture and commemorate what was destroyed, and they had the time to do so. Berlin so soon after the war was thrust into the Cold War in a way that perhaps Munich was not, allowing it to remain quaint.

Kayleigh made the comment that while Berlin reminded her of New York, Munich was more like Boston. It's interesting to note that my freshmen year in college I went to a school in New York while Kayleigh graduated from Boston University and spent her time abroad in Dublin. We're attracted to the same types of cities, even abroad.

In what many stereotype as true Bavarian fashion, we also went on a Beer Hall tour that evening. And I learned that it is in fact a true aspect of Bavarian culture. They love their beer, and not just during the end of September. We went to two beer halls, one of which being the Hofbrauhaus where Hitler made his first speeches (creepy), and a small brewery and restaurant. In Munich, brewery restaurants like the one we went to only sell that beer in house--no bottles, even in Munich, or even in a gift shop to be sold to the public. It is only available in the restaurant. Our guide took us around where they brew the beer and we nibbled on toasted barley, wheat, and took a whiff of some hops before enjoying our massive liters of beer.

Surprisingly, there was also snow in Bavaria. After a quick bus ride from Munich, Kayleigh and I were in about six inches of snow and staring at what must be one of the most beautiful landscapes in the world. The Alps are epic. I have never even seen the Rocky Mountains and only driven through pieces of the Appalachians--I never really knew I was missing anything glorious until driving out there. The castles we saw also were pretty intense too--Ludwig II, who may or may not have been insane (and maybe murdered!) built three castles in the Alps, two of which we saw. The first, Linderhof, was a smaller palace modeled after Versailles with rococo decorations and a grotto we couldn't get to which had electricity for his late-night theater productions. The second was magical. It has to be--it is the design for Disney's logo and Sleeping Beauty's castle in Disneyland. (Haha, bad joke, but I couldn't resist.) Neuschwanstein is built up a mountain near Ludwig's childhood home and was meant to be his fairytale Medieval castle. Throughout the castle rooms are scenes from Wagner's operas--my favorites were Tristan and Isolde in Ludwig's bedroom. It was most definitely worth the trek up the mountain and the stairs in the tower--and besides, I had to work off all that beer from the night before.

Sadly, classes have to resume, Kayleigh has to go back to work, and life has to start again. While in Munich I was very much the tourist--and often a cranky one at that, especially during the 10 minutes in front of the Glockenspiel--in Berlin I had the pleasure of showing someone what I knew already. Yes, Brandenburger Tor is a self-explanatory S-bahn stop, and yes, she had a guidebook and is very capable of tooling about the city by herself, but I like to think that because I knew something about the city, more than just the wall and the Hitler, we both had a more worthwhile and enjoyable time.

Happy Birthday to me. :-)

Midterms.

It's hard to believe that we are at midterm already. Not just because classes seem much more real and intense when you spend a weekend reading what you probably should have weeks ago. But it's wierd to think that our time here is half over--I leave the 12th of December, so a little over 2 months left.

Since I couldn't get a hold of my speaking partner Claudia this weekend, I spent the time instead doing what I probably would have done, had I been in Maryland. I studied. I procrastinated. I saw an English movie in probably the nicest movie theater I have ever been in. I even had a giant soda and candy. It is strange that after only a few weeks here, life has slowed down enough to feel like I am living here, not just trying to absorb every museum in sight. When I was in London, we didn't get to cram in quite as much as I wanted to see, yet we were staying with actual Londoners. They took us to a pub, gave us great directions, and took us on a super scary car ride on the wrong side of the road. In that way, I think we got a better view of actual London, as opposed to just medieval castles and tourist spots. Mind you, the Tower was awesome. But just as awesome was being able to see a part of what the city is like to those who are lucky enough to live in it.

Next weekend, my friend Kayleigh is coming to Berlin for my birthday/midsemester break. Not that I am by any means an expert on Berlin, but I do have some places in mind, I know what to look for, and I know vaguely where things are located. While we are of course seeing the Brandenburger Tor and eating Currywurst, we will probably also do something that doesn't scream Berlin. And I think that is perfect. You can't get to know a city in a whirlwind week of museum hopping and list checking--sure, check off that you saw the Berlin Wall from the Bucket List, but we're getting to see more than that too.

Deutscher Wein und deutscher Sang.

I've worked in restaurants for about 8 years now and for the most part, I've never had a Fourth of July off. From my understanding, however, it is mostly barbecue, beer, and fireworks. And a lot of the same was used to celebrate German Reunification, just on a much larger scale. Brandenburger Tor and the Tiergarten were packed with people everywhere, eating sausages and drinking and rocking out to the random music on one of 2 stages. It went on for a long and wasn't particularly German themed--I got Paella (delicious too) and a couple large glasses of sangria, before I indulged in my bratwurst. In the United States I can understand how a celebration of our independence from England can be so lacking in celebrating independence--we've had 234 years to celebrate. The US has been a world power for almost everyone's lifetime and imagining ourselves as less than that, much less as a colony of another country, seems far off and far fetched. We take independence for granted.

Germany is in a much different place, historically. Most of its citizens can remember, some more vividly than others, a time in which there were two Germanys. Those who can't remember that I'm sure at least have parents, teachers, neighbors, someone who does and probably has opinions about it. And while the scene at the Brandenburger Tor was one of a huge party, the few hours in front of the Reichstag were not quite as carefree. A number of videos showed footage from 1989-1990 and Helmut Kohl received a standing ovation from the crowd when he was introduced. Skydivers with German Flag parachutes jumped down behind us, a German choir sang--in both English and German--and the night closed with the crowd singing the national anthem with the German Flag waving on the Reichstag and fireworks. Even though I didn't understand most of what was going on, it was a pleasant evening, and one I was glad to be able to witness while here.

Cheers.

Instead of taking a nice leisurely weekend to relax after Paris, I went to London . . . the city in Europe I was most looking forward to seeing. And it was amazing. I am a bit obsessed with British history--especially Tudor era, gotta love a scandal--and poor Kate probably put up with all my super excited rambling and random facts while looking around the city. Especially at the tower of London, where we went to first. It was amazing--especially because it just blends into the landscape. The White Tower on the inside was built by William the Conquerer sometime soon after 1066, and the whole thing was finished by the 1250s. I had a particular desire to go here, more than anywhere else, because of Anne Boleyn. There is a glass memorial to the seven people executed inside the Tower itself and Anne is buried inside a chapel directly behind there--I know this is horribly morbid, but I was so excited to get to be there and I even spent the very few minutes on my phone to send a text to my mom about where I was standing. While Notre Dame and Versailles were beautiful and Sans Souci was interesting and relevant to where I am living now, London was always my dream city to visit--English majors unite.

I was not disappointed, even when some other plans fell through--Westminster Abbey closed super early on Saturday and contrary to what I was told, there is no platform 9 3/4 in Kings Cross (we looked.) Wandering the city was super enjoyable and most of the big landmarks are within walking distance. We started at Picadilly Circus, saw the Big Ben, Parliament, Westminster Abbey, the London Eye and ended at a pub in the center of London with fish and chips and steak and ale pie. Kate's friend lives in Blackheath, near Greenwich, and we got a great view of the skyline of London and as an added bonus stood next to the spot that marks the split between the hemispheres. Definitely wasn't on my todo list, but it was a beautiful day and a beautiful view.

Its strange coming back to Berlin this time, mostly because its starting to feel like a strange city again. As nice as it was to have that week in France, especially in the beginning when we still barely know each other, and as glad as I am that I got to go to London and see buildings I have been obsessed with seeing for the last decade, I feel as if I was just starting to get a grip on Berlin before all this happened. Whatever German I knew at that point, all 3 sentences, is harder to access then it would've been had I been here that whole time.

Before I left for this semester, I was reading blogs from other students abroad--trying to find a clever name for this blog, among other things--and one of the things I read was that you shouldn't spend all your free time traveling. Sure, take advantage of the opportunity, but don't forget where you are. I think the next few weeks will be a focus on just that--Germany, and Berlin. I don't want to leave here wishing I had done more things, seen more things, learned more German. I want to order a meal in a restaurant, or from a Kebab stand (why can't we have this in DC?!?) and not have the person immediately switch to English. While I feel like that in particular will take time to accomplish, I will be in Germany the entire month of October--now's the time to start practicing. Ich möchte ein Döner Kebab bitte!

An American in Paris.

Before going into this blog, one should know something: I never had any real desire to go to Paris. It's unbelievable, I know, because Paris was once the center of the world, and is still a cultural powerhouse. And it's beautiful. And while I hoped to get there one day, if FU-Best's field trip hadn't been to Paris, I would not have gone while in Europe.

However, looking back on my week in France, I was pleasantly surprised by Paris. Mind you, at first I was not--the trains were hot, crowded, and would occasionally lose power while in motion and stop, and Paris is sooo expensive and full of tourists and annoyed Parisians. (I would be annoyed with all of us too.) And like any other vacation, the first day I got a horrid sunburn, complete with sunglass voids and a necklace line. Dirk even made skiing gestures through the window the next morning. Thanks for that.

Yet Notre Dame Cathedral was awe-inspiring and humbling--both the mass on Sunday and climbing the tower a few days later. As cheesy as I thought the Eiffel Tower would be, in person it is gigantic and at night, beautiful. I went to the Louvre, and while I knew it would be awesome, it really, really was. Of course we saw the Mona Lisa and Madonna on the Rocks, but there were so many other paintings there that I love that I didn't know were going to be there--Raft of the Medusa by Gericault, The Death of Sardanapalus and Liberty Guiding the People by Delacroix, and the statue Cupid and Psyche. The last place I saw in Paris was the Louvre, and what a send-off. All my unpleasant or ambivalent attitudes towards Paris were drowned out by glass pyramids and oil paintings.

Normandy was awe-inspiring in a different way, and I was definitely more excited about going to Normandy then to Paris. I've always been a history buff, and World War II history is what brought me to Berlin in the first place. Both my grandfathers fought in WWII and my Uncle Ralph fought on D-Day--being able to walk on Omaha Beach was amazing, and also humbling. It was one of the most beautiful beaches I have ever been on, which I think is appropriate--after all that happened there, it should be turned into something natural and serene. The beach deserves it, as do the men who died there.

After another 15 hour bus ride back to Berlin, I was completely relieved to be back. To be back home. What an interesting thought, that my tiny apartment in Berlin could feel like home to me. Maybe its because I got to go to bed after an incredibly long bus ride and use the internet at length, but I think it's also something more, and it might help to explain how I felt about the two cities. Paris was definitely a tourist city, and I acted like a tourist. I don't speak French either--too bad we didn't go to Spain, where I might have been of use to someone--but I didn't really try to learn. I spent all my time at major landmarks, trying to cram an entire city into 5 days, and then an entire war into 2 days. Berlin has a different feel to it. I'm taking my time, attending school, ordering by number at the Asian food shack around the corner from the apartment, even though the man always points to double check my horribly American-accented German, while throwing in some museums and landmarks. Its nice to be able to live in a city completely foreign to you and attempt to learn from experience, as opposed to cramming a guidebook into a week. Not that I am knocking vacationing by any means--I spent one day in Rome a few years ago and the few hours spent in the Vatican were awesome and I am glad I got to have them. Yet it is definitely a nice and new experience to have time to spend and time to form an opinion.

Whoa.

After a week has gone by, I still find myself overwhelmed by all the history here. I still feel like a tourist, which I actually don't have a problem with. Just because I have an apartment, need to grocery shop, and can public transit like a German-speaking pro doesn't mean I don't want to see everything in my guidebook and cram my camera full of pictures of cheeseball traps and harrowing monuments alike.

After a relatively uneventful first week of class, which felt so normal and home-like, we went to Potsdam. We went to Cecilienhof first, which is where the Potsdam Conference was held at the end of World War II. Going through the tour, the German tour guide nonchalantly talks about where Stalin sat, his secret door, Churchill's girth, the flags on the walls, Truman's office--these people were here. They walked these halls, used these offices, sat in those chairs. Whoa. I wish I could have taken pictures just to have proof that I was in the same room that the conference was held and the world was settled, so to speak, after being destroyed during the war. And if that wasn't enough, we then went to Sanssouci, Frederich the Great's summer palace.

Sanssouci, roughly translated to "no worries", is beautiful. Gold rococo walls and paintings everywhere and a marble domed sitting room--intense. The garden was the best part, in my opinion. It was so extravagant! Our guide said there are 75 gardeners and they probably need more to trim all the trees and save the fig trees during the winter. Around a large fountain down a fig tree-covered hill were 10 statues of Greek gods and goddesses--decadent. And beautiful. Maybe its partially because I focus so much on English history in college--I love me some Henrys--but I forget that Germany, or Prussia to be exact, has this kind of history too. I make the claim that it is also overshadowed by the modern history of Germany, at least for me. A large part of the reason I chose to come to Berlin was that modern history--WWII, the Cold War, the Berlin Wall, David Hasselhoff--but it was pleasantly refreshing to wander around beautiful palaces and think that there is more to this country then Hitler and Stalin and what they did to it.

I, however, could not escape wanting to see WWII memorials. This afternoon Elly and I went to see the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe, which is near Brandenburg Gate. The memorial is not as spelled out as the Soviet War Memorial with the weeping mother and the soldier smashing the swastika. But I don't think that's what this memorial was going for, and I don't think it is any less effective. The large square is filled with 2,711 concrete slabs of varying sizes and it is part of the landscape of the city. I think that is what I found most striking--it isn't in the middle of a field with one entrance and exit. Instead, you can enter it from any point and wander as you choose. People were sitting on the blocks, laying in the sun, eating. Children, and a few 30 year old men, were playing hide-and-seek. I am not saying I know what this memorial means, but I think part of it is that it is part of the city, just like the Holocaust is a part of Germany and its history now. It was not meant to draw attention to this horrible aspect of German history, but to commemorate and keep moving forward.

Both because I am still in cheesy tourist mode and because we weren't that far, Elly and I then went to Checkpoint Charlie. I love that it is still an intersection. If I ever drive in this city, I will go out of my way to drive through Checkpoint Charlie, just because for so long people could not. It was exactly what I expected--crowded, expensive, and there was a McDonald's on the corner. I love how in this city one can start at a memorial as somber as the Holocaust Memorial, pass through the Topographie des Terrors, and end at something like this, where you have to pay 2 euro for a pic with some fake soldiers. In one afternoon, you can run the gambit of Berliner history. Whoa.

Start of a love affair.

I have a confession to make. I am in love with the Ampelmann. It is so adorable! I even knew it existed before I came to Berlin, yet the first time I was on the east and saw it, it was so endearing! And I also find it a contrast to what I would have expected to find in the former Soviet Sector of Berlin. As an American, I grew up with the assumption that everything East and Communist was bad while the Democratic West was good--I'm going to suggest that I may not have been the only person to have made those assumptions as a child. And while I am aware that life in East Germany was not easy, little things like this adorable green light make it seem, to me, more real. It becomes less of a symbol, a foreign something behind a wall, a corrupt government. People lived here too.

To expand past the adorable Ampelmann for a moment, I think that the most interesting thing about this city is the different layers of its past coexisting everywhere. Firstly, there are a few medieval remnants of the old city, before Frederich, Hitler and the Amplemann. An example of this is the Nikolaikirche.

This church dates back to 1250, was finished in 1470 and restored after being damaged in the war. It is in the middle of the city, a short walk from Alexanderplatz, which amazes me more then anything. A building as old as this can be a stone's throw from something as cliche 20th century as the TV tower in Alexanderplatz.

Also in this city are a number of war memorials, only a tiny percentage of which I have seen as of yet. We were at the large Soviet War Memorial, the largest of three, and I found it quite beautiful with the symbolic trees and the intense statues. However, while stumbling around Alexanderplatz with Elena and Allie on Wednesday, we found a bombed church from WWII that I found more moving in its simplicity. The church was left open, as a monument to the war and the destruction caused by it. Hidden by trees on an obscure street corner, this building is just a part of the city, just like the remaining bullet holes on the concrete banks of the Spree.

When I lived in NYC, even though I lived in Manhattan proper, I still feel as if I only really got to know the East Village and most of the city still has a sense of foreignness to it. I feel as if I could make a sweeping generalization about the feel of Berlin compared to other cities, it is closest to that of NYC. Steglitz is nothing like Mitte which is nothing like Kreuzberg which is nothing like Potsdamer Platz. Getting to know a city as diverse and layered as this one is like dating--frustrating, exciting, and, for a time, dissatisfying. Personally, I am overwhelmed in the best way, and hope that in four months I have something concrete to declare. At this moment, however, I have nothing but eagerness and a camera full of buildings I've already forgotten. :-) It should be a good semester.