Germany

We arrived Saturday morning at Ruth's brother's house, in a small town in Germany.  I suppose at first glance it wasn't much different from Switzerland, but somehow it felt just a little more German.  There were the medieval buildings, the sprawling pedestrian zones, and the tightly packed underground shopping centers that seem to be standard in Europe, but there were also also the ever-so-German sex stores and beer halls with names too long to cram on their signs.  The most immediate difference, of course, was the language.  My French at this point, is passable.  I'm competant enough to requisition a haircut and follow directions over the telephone, but suddenly all that I'd learned was completely useless.  I was submerged in a culture and had no means of communicating with it, no chance of comprehending it, and not so much as a days worth of schooling in the language.  Heck, I didn't even know how to say "Excuse me" or "I'm sorry" (luckily, the German culture is such that I wouldn't have had much use for those two phrases anyway).  Of course, everyone can speak basic English, but the thought of speaking it with Germans, seems too culturally conceited and too shamefully "American."  Among Ruth's family, however, it was necessary.  They spoke French at least as awkwardly as I did, and sometimes, I found myself translating Alain and Simon's arguments for their cousin, Stefan.  Plus, Ruth's brother was a proffessor of English, and I'm pretty sure he spoke it better than I did.  At first speaking English was surprisingly difficult; I was quiet and awkward, and found myself wishing I could just speak in French.  I had to avoid my instinctual responses of "oui" and "merci;" the transition felt almost as if it was my first day again.  Also, speaking English with non-native speakers is always a little awkward.  You have to avoid slang and excessive prepositions, and you always have to speak with correct grammar, or risk offending someone by saying something they don't understand (or worse, explaining it).

The first night, Stefan took Alain, Simon, and me out to an authentic German beerhall, where I had a currywurst, which was surprisingly good, and Stefan, in stereotypical German fashion, downed two beers, before I had even finished.  We then headed over to the youth room at the church, where there was a party.  It was like every German party I've ever imagined: beer, loud, angry techno music (Das Geht Ab - the present German party anthem), blacklights, and alcohol - except for the fact that it took place in a church.  I was introduced to a couple of people (in English of course), but I didn't really talk to anybody.  Before long, the police showed up because someone complained about the noise, but it wasn't serious because everyone was old enough to drink anyway.  That spelled the end of the party, however, so after meeting a couple of Stefan's friends, we left for another bar.  The streets were filled with kids doing the same, passing from bar to bar, club to club, and everyone seemed to know everyone else.  We stopped by several other bars, socializing, and meeting people, before we finally went home.

The next day, we went canoeing down a small river in the middle of town.  I was surprised that that was allowed, but there seemed to be no other craft on the water, motorized or otherwise.  It was a beautiful day, abeit cold, for going outside, so we stopped for a few minutes at an island, and headed back after a few minutes.

The following evening, we went out to another party with Stefan.  It was only a couple of houses down the street, and everyone from the church party, plus many many more, were there.  This time I spoke alot more with the German kids.  They had great fun speaking English to me (after I had explained "Ich spreche kein Deutsch"), and teaching me German slang and curses.  They spoke well the most part, but I couldn't get them to understand that I was an exchange student staying in Switzerland and was only visiting for a couple of days.  Consequently, they were all very surprised when I said that I'd been here for two months, but I spoke no German whatsoever.  It was a little embarassing to know so little and I was very conscious of my nationality, but everyone was friendly and didn't make me feel awkward at all.

After those few jam-packed days of Hessen exploration and German nightlife, it was time to go home.  We stopped about half-way in the small French town of Colmar, which felt as French as Stefan's town had felt German.  The buildings were old and brightly coloured, with dark wood beams crisscrossing their fascades.  A two meter wide stream with masonry banks, ran through the town Venice-style, so the pedestrian-only streets were speckled with bridges and fountians.  It was very quaint, but with its jolly street performers (an accordionist!), vibrant colours, and cobblestone streets, seemed almost like Disney World.  And I suppose it was a very touristy town, but it was nice to get a small taste of France, and see more of Europe.