SLA – Page 17 – SLA Profiles (2018)

Who is American in Munich?

One thing I’ve realized staying in Munich is that it is not only a German city, but also an international city. That being said, I also notice a lot that Munich is a city influenced by American culture. When the radio plays in the morning the talk show hosts speak in German, but most of the music is in English, less often in German and Spanish. That being said, the question of what American culture is – who is American – is one that has required clarification multiple times in Munich.

My American Peanut Butter – Bought in Munich!

My host mother, Mariana, is from Argentina, but has made Munich her home. We have spoken a few times about what it means to come to Germany from the Americas, and the question comes up often in conversation with new acquaintances.

To this point, the most common question I’ve received here, perhaps even more often than an inquiry after my name, is “Woher kommst du?” – “Where are you from?” Most often I answer, “Aus den USA,” or “Aus den Vereinigten Staaten.” Generally though, this is eventually clarified by my interlocutor or myself as America. Mariana reminded me in the first few days of my stay that she too is an American; Argentinians are Americans, from South America, just as those from the USA are Americans, from North America. Mariana laments that people from Germany and the USA alike don’t recognize the common history of the Americas. After Mass one day I was talking (in German) with a Peruvian woman, Justina, and she made a similar comment; she is Peruvian but also American.

In fact, Munich is not the first this place where this point has been clarified in conversation. The question asking to whom the title “American” belongs was also a common one in my high school Spanish class, and my teacher from Mexicali would often reiterate the same idea as outlined above. It is interesting to see that the issue is not only one between Americans of the north and south, but also in Europe and perhaps beyond.

Nevertheless, among Germans and most of the international students at the Sprachschule, Americans remain citizens of the US alone. I don’t think this they mean to discredit citizens of other countries in the Americas; rather, countries have grown to be a greater marker of identity than these larger geographical designations that are perhaps more historical and cultural, less political and economic. Looking at the newspapers here, one sees that these political and economic issues dominate the headlines. Alongside Kanzlerin Angela Merkel, one often sees images of President Trump accompanied by questions of what lies in store for political relations in these somewhat uncertain times.

That being said, there are also some German newspapers that focus less on these looming questions, and instead share stories about curiosities. I found this one a while back:

The cat came back after eight years of being away! Lucky’s Unbelievable Odyssey

Fronleichnam in Munich

At the end of May I was able to participate in one of Munich’s biggest religious citywide ceremonies, Fronleichnam, or Corpus Christi, as we call it in the US. It was a very warm day, and the Mass began in midmorning. When I arrived in Marienplatz, where Mass was celebrated, I found many different communities gathered under representative banners: student groups, Handwerker organizations, Polish and Vietnamese communities formed part of the assembly, each attired in traditional garb.

The Mass was celebrated by Cardinal Reinhard Marx, and his homily was on going with Christ through time – “Mit Christus durch die Zeit” – he also talked about reading the signs of the times and the citywide celebration being one of joy and not power. Mass was followed by a procession through the city to Königsplatz. There are questions these days in Bavaria about how Christian identity should be represented in the public sphere. The state government, led by Markus Söder, has determined that Crosses will be hung at each public opening to a government building. Söder recognizes the Cross as an essential part of Bavarian culture and history, a recognition of its Christian roots and foundation.

The Sunday before was Dreifaltigkeitssonntag (The Feast of the Holy Trinity), and in the cathedral, Frauenkirche, the homilist addressed the topic of cultural identity in Bavaria through the prayer of the Sign of the Cross. He affirmed that the Cross is a sign of identity, but before being a marker of identity with a culture, it marks identity with the Trinity, “In Namen des Vaters, und des Sohnes, und des Heiligen Geistes.” He continued by emphasizing that this needs to be remembered in a debate that may lose sight of the meaning of the Cross.

The week before, I had the grace of meeting a Benedictine priest, Fr. Stephan Haering, who lives in my apartment building, and is a professor of canon law at Ludwig Maximilian’s University. As a representative of the University he concelebrated Mass with Cardinal Marx and a number of other bishops and priests. During this first meeting, I was able to speak with him about my philosophy and theology studies, his work and vocation, and aspects Germany and Bavaria in general (all in German, with his patient assistance!). He even spoke with me about the dialect he grew up speaking, comparing the basic sentence same sentence in Boarisch and German (in Boarisch I understood nothing whatsoever). Since then I have visited with him for dinner each Wednesday, after he celebrates Mass for sisters in an abbey directly next to my apartment. It is quite a gift to meet with him and the sisters!

St. Petersburg, A City of Gardens and Water

I’ve been here now for about a week and a half, and I can’t say I’ve seen a more beautiful city. It isn’t just the architecture, which was to be expected, but the White Nights bring a real magic to this place. On Saturday night, at around two am, I watched the sun rise with the bridges on the Neva after walking past the Hermitage Museum. It was like walking through the wildest dreams of my childhood. That sounds corny, but let me explain:

I was adopted from Simferopol, a city in Crimea. I spent the third year of my life in an orphanage, and the first two somewhere only God knows. Now this part is going to get a little silly, but bear with me. My favorite movie as a child was Anastasia. If you’ve seen it, you know its about a young orphan in Russia who finds out that she is really a princess. Perhaps it is a little bit far fetched to have dreamed that I, too, was really a princess (sometimes I also had a secret, long-lost twin) but, outside of daydreams, I strongly identified with her. She was like an older sister, a role model, and a very real influence in my life. We both, left at train stations, had humble and obscure beginnings. I wished that I, like her, could go from being “a skinny little nobody” to someone extraordinary. The first scene of that movie opens on to the Winter Palace, now the Hermitage. On Saturday, walking across that square, with the palace lit and the sun rising, it really did feel like some long-hidden and forgotten daydream had been achieved.

Just being in this city is achieving something for me, but I’m not here just to realize childhood daydreams. As much as learning Russian is apart of my childhood wishes, it is real work, and it is the part of my past that I hope will bring me into my future. Arriving here has shown me that I’m perhaps better than I thought I was, but that doesn’t mean that I’m very good. At orientation in DC, the told us that there would be good days and bad days in the languages, and I’ve definitely experienced both, consecutively, in fact.

Monday was not a good day. I was very tired and since all of my classes are completely in Russian, that certainly didn’t help. Conceptually, of course working your brain in a new language is tiring, but you don’t quite know how tiring it can be until you feel it. On monday, I understood very little of my classes and it was frustrating. I did click off after my second ad penultimate class. On the street, I tried to speak Russian, but halfheartedly, and just let it happen when shopkeepers and waiters spoke to me in English. The evening was a little better. A group mate of mine pushed me to speak Russian to him and the concerts I went to were very interesting. The first was Mendelssohn and a piano concerto, both of which were very impressive, but the best part of the evening was the second concert. After dinner at an Indian restaurant with my friends (yay! food with seasoning!), I went to a concert of Egyptian music. Because the Russia-Egypt game was the next day, there were a lot of Egyptians in Russia, and many at the concert. The music was of a contemporary Egyptian composer who performed on the piano. The music was entertaining, cinematic, which made sense because the composer has done a lot of film work. It definitely sounded like Egypt, but it most sounded like Egypt at the end. During the last song, the Egyptians in the audience clapped and sang in Arabic. Because the concert was held in the Mariinsky Theater, which is an enormous and beautiful hall, the singing sounded distant, yet, at the sam time, seemed to surround us. After we left, I spoke entirely in Russian with the Russian friend who brought me and went to bed very gratefully.

One final note about the concert before I move on to the better day: I have heard from music teachers that in Russia, the audience claps in unison. I can now safely say that that is very true. The collective still exists in Russia, and getting to feel it in that way, to be apart of it, was a peculiar experience to say the least.

Now, to yesterday (Tuesday) and my good language experience in class. To be honest, I rocked it. In grammar I talked as much as our resident know-it-all, and in phonetics, I was told I said the word completely perfectly more than once. Even in politics I managed to ask a question and contribute some to the class discussion. on the street was perhaps the best part. I went to a cafe for lunch, and not only did the waitress actually answer me in Russian, she didn’t even look at me funny when I spoke to her. After class, I had a non-alcoholic mojito and actually managed to do some much-needed vocabulary work. I haven’t talked much about my host family (don’t worry, I will) but the short end of it is that I can only understand like 30% of what my host mom says to me. Yesterday, however, we managed an entire conversation at dinner, with both of us talking!! I’m even comfortable enough to ask her to repeat herself!

In conclusion, I’ve had good moments and bad moments here, and in the next six and a half weeks, I’m sure to have many more of both, but at least now I know what I’m in for. As I sit here, on an island in the middle of a pond in one of St. Petersburg’s many gardens, watching people feed the fat pigeons while I write, I know how lucky I am to be here. To get to walk into a dream and work towards gaining a skill that I’ve wanted as long as I can remember makes me think that I might be slowly stumbling my way towards an ending better than Anastasia’s.

A language must die to be immortal

My first week as a student in the Paideia Institute’s “Living Latin in Rome” program has been absolutely surreal. I have translated the words of Cicero in the Forum, of Propertius on the Tarpeian rock, and of Augustine in Ostia. I can feel my skills of translation, of sight reading, developing exponentially.

I’m not quite sure how this blog is supposed to work for a student of a dead language. One of the suggested tasks for this blog is to “Identify a local and culturally important holiday about which you would like to learn more. Next, locate a tourism office/museum/historical center and ask someone who works there about the historical and cultural significance of the holiday and its origins. After you have spoken to someone in an official capacity, ask the same question(s) to a regular citizen. Were the two accounts the same/similar?” I suppose I could ask a tourism office in Rome about Saturnalia, an ancient Roman festival in honor of the god Saturn, but I’m not sure what kind of response I would get.

Despite the fact that my language of choice is dead, the ability to try it out conversationally has been invaluable. In the first session of conversational Latin, my teacher, John, explained that one should be able to laugh at oneself when speaking Latin. All of the classicists here are strong in the language and used to translating it well. Yet, speaking Latin is an entirely different proposition from translating it. Because I’m used to reading complex sentences in Latin, the struggle involved in saying “where do you live?” is frustrating and new to me. Yet I am learning to embrace the struggle, and I am keeping up as my classes slowly transition into full immersion.

One new strategy I have learned for my studies is this: to delete my quizlet account and throw away my flashcards. At the Paideia Institute, we learn new Latin vocabulary by associating it with Latin words we already do know. This way, we are not flipping back and forth from English to Latin, but totally immersed in Latin. For example, in a story from Livvy I came across an unfamiliar word: anser, which means goose. Instead of writing that word on a flashcard and “goose” on the back, I mentally associated the word with other goose-related Latin words: aves, ala, columba, mater, and stultus (birds, wing, dove, mother, and silly, respectively). I can already tell that my Latin vocabulary is expanding thanks to this technique.

My favorite part of the program so far has been the opportunity to connect the ancient authors I love with their historical contexts. At the Capitoline Museums, I gazed up at the fasti, the very lists of consuls that Ovid consulted when he wrote his poem of the same name. Livy’s account of the founding of Rome became much more real to me when I read it on the Palatine Hill itself. And Plautus’ hilarious play, Pseudolus, was a thousand times more funny when performed in an actual ancient theatre, in Ostia.

In summary, I feel so blessed for all of the opportunities I have had in my first week of my Summer Language Abroad, and I cannot wait for the next adventures!

Und meine Seele spannte weit ihre Flügel aus

It has now been little more than two weeks since I first stepped here in Munich and it seems as if a small world has already been formed out of the streets, gestures, and words that surround me. “Guten Morgen, München!” is heard from the radio every morning, while Anabel, my host mother, comes to the kitchen with a smile, carrying the apricots she has bought for me. Parks and castles are revisited and new poems read each time in them. The repeated walks to Sankt Theresia follow, and then Mass is beautifully and silently celebrated. Finally, there comes the late summer sunset that carries the day to its end. By an Ewig Wiederkunft of gestures and meals, expressions and skies that belong to this place and will be forever intertwined with it, a new world is formed and given to me as a gift.

A frequent and loved destination: *Schloss Nymphenburg*

Thinking about this little world, so real and unreal at the same time, I notice what a strange role the German language plays in it. It is, of course, the first reason why I am travelling to Germany and also the bridge that connects me to others here. And, yet, at moments of weariness or shyness, how easily does it set me apart from this world! When I attended a seminar at the Ludwig Maximilians Universität München about Pseudo-Dionysius and Albertus Magnus, the words all failed me at the sheer prospect of speaking with the professor after class. But when walking in the beautiful streets of Innsbruck, when everything was lightness and joy, the words seemed to flow out of my mouth with an unprecedented naturalness. My goal, therefore, has been to revisit and maintain those moments of joy that were given to me, this lightness and beauty that sometimes reveals itself and that is stronger than shyness or broken pride, and able to turn all into learning, smiles, and sweetness. I have already received so much in these first two weeks and my heart is filled with hope, is truly frohbereit (happily ready) for the next three to come.

Joyfully walking in the streets of Innsbruck.

Parental Leave and Leaving to Austria

My course is becoming increasingly more interesting with every week, as we gain people from all over the world. This past week a 16 year old boy from Italy joined our class, and we started off the week by discussing parental leave from the workplace. I had never realized the awesome laws that Germany has for parental leave, which include 3 full paid years split between both parents. For example, each parent can switch off each month taking care of the child, and still be compensated at work. This is federal a law here. It is absolutely insane and amazing, because there is no federal law for any paternal leave in the U.S., not even for the mother. Only three states in the U.S., California, New Jersey, and Rhode Island, provide some type of leave for mothers. For the most part, in the U.S. it is completely dependant on the company to determine whether or not they offer parental leave. It was interesting discussing these with the other students, because I learned how Italy, South Korea, and Russia compare, and their laws are still more giving to parents than U.S. laws.

I found this particular topic interesting, because I study Neuroscience and Behavior at Notre Dame, a science that has a great focus on the early development of people. In german, I was able to use the knowledge I have gained from my psychology and anthropology classes at ND to explain how significant it is for the parents to be around during the early years of a childhood. I hope to pursue medicine after studying at Notre Dame, potentially in Germany, so this was a great way to discuss my blooming interests in a language that I may need in the coming years to earn a graduate degree.

Later on in the week, I had a weekend trip planned to Vienna, Austria (Wien, Österreich in German). I looked forward to visiting this country because the primary language spoken there is also German! It was another place I could practice my speaking and reading skills. While in Vienna, I visited Schönbrunn Palace and Gardens, a former imperial summer residence that is one of the most important architectural, cultural, and historical monuments in the Austria. It had amazing views of the entire city of Vienna and one of the most vibrant and fruitful gardens I have ever seen. I also wandered the inner city of Vienna and spotted some amazing buildings and churches, including the Burgtheater, one of the most historically significant theaters in Europe. Later that evening, I happened upon a woman who sold me a ticket to Macbeth in that theater for 5 euros because her friend had gotten sick. The rendition of Macbeth was completely in German without supertitles, and only featured three actors. It was definitely one of the most interesting productions I have witnessed, and their interpretation excluded the final two acts of Macbeth and relied heavily on sound, lighting, and visual stimulation to capture the themes of the play.

The following day I traveled west of Vienna to a town named Melk, Austria. This is one of the oldest cities in Austria, and it possesses some amazing sites, including the Melk Abbey which I toured. This is a benedictine abbey, which houses the remains of many of Austria’s first ruling dynasty. It contains many precious relics of the Catholic Church, and is staged high above ground so that views of the village and Danube river are breathtaking. After touring the Melk Abbey, I took a boat ride down the Danube river, seeing more beautiful green villages set in the mountains of Austria. This trip gave me so much insight as to how other German speaking countries can have such different cultures, even though they are connected to other countries by language.

Willkommen in Deutschland!

After a week and a half, I still cannot believe I am here! For as long as I can remember, I have been fascinated by German culture, history, and language. I dreamed of exploring the German countryside, visiting historical monuments and museums, tasting traditional foods, and speaking the German language. When I first stepped off the plane in Munich, I was extremely excited! My dream was finally becoming a reality!

This week was a lot of firsts: first time using public transportation by myself, first week of classes, and first time eating traditional German food.

PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION

In order to arrive at my new home of Schwäbisch Hall, Germany, I had to take a bus from the Munich airport to the city Hauptbahnhof (main train station), a train north to Nuremberg, a connecting train from Nuremberg to Schwäbisch Hall – Hessental, and finally a bus from Schwäbisch Hall – Hessental to Schwäbisch Hall.

I am not going to lie — I was quite nervous! There is very little public transportation in my hometown in rural Minnesota. I have only used it three or four times in my life and always with my family. And now, I would use more trains and buses alone in one day than I had ever used in my life!

Despite my initial uncertainties, I am glad to say, with the help of locals, I made it to Schwäbisch Hall! The Deutsche Bahn train system is fascinating to me because it reflects my perception of German punctuality. Trains are frequent and almost always on time. If an individual reserves a seat on the train, there is an electronic sign above his or her Sitzplatz or seat that identifies where he or she is going. For example, the electronic sign above my Sitzplatz read “Munich to Nuremberg” and the sign above the people across the aisle read “Munich to Hanover.” Everything is organized until the very last detail.

ARRIVING IN & TOURING MY NEW HOME: SCHWAEBISCH HALL

Schwäbisch Hall is the most beautiful city I have ever seen. It has approximately 37,000 residents and, unlike many German cities, was largely spared from World War II destruction. For this reason, many buildings retain their traditional Fachwerk style, as shown on the buildings on the right in the photo below. The streets are quaint, colorful, and historical, with cafes located nearly on every corner. Everyday it seems as though I am walking through a fairytale!

View of Schwäbisch Hall, Germany at sunset

FIRST WEEK OF CLASSES

The Goethe Institut of German language study is only a seven minute walk from my Studentenwohnung (student apartment). Breakfast begins at 7:15AM and classes last from 8:30AM-1:00PM, Monday through Friday. After class, we all share lunch together in the Goethe Cafeteria and try to incorporate new vocabulary and grammar into our conversations.

One of my favorite things about Goethe is its diversity of people. Though my class is only nine people, we represent Taiwan, Russia, Brazil, Algeria, Italy, and the United States. To the surprise of many, German is the only common language we share. It forces everyone to use German at all times, rather than referring to an alternative English translation when something is misunderstood. My teacher is excellent as she is the main vehicle for our understanding of each other and course material.

I am surprised by how much I am learning, not only about the German language, but also about local Schwäbisch culture and traditions. Everyday I only look forward to learning more!

ACTIVITIES OUTSIDE OF CLASS

Earlier this week, I visited the Hällisch-Fränkisches Museum, the city’s history and culture museum. I learned that Schwäbisch Hall was founded in 12th century by the Celts, but was later destroyed by the fire of 1728. Schwäbisch Hall was immediately rebuilt and emerged as the city with the largest salt production and trade industry in all of southwest Germany. In fact, the Celtic word “hall” means salt!

In addition, I also joined the local gym Fair Fitness. It is reasonably priced and only a seven minute walk from my Studentenwohnung (student apartment). I have met several locals and enjoying watching German news as I workout. It has also been a great way to stay active and learn about German exercise culture. Two things that I have learned: many gyms do not have AC and always bring a towel. Fair Fitness does not provide towels and with no AC, the machines can become quite sweaty!

नमस्ते नेपाल! (Namaste Nepal!)

Patan Durbar Square right before a monsoon downpour. (The construction is rebuilding from the 2015 Nepali earthquake.)

Despite still suffering from a bit of jetlag, I’ve officially been here one week! Orientation began this past Wednesday, and the days have been an exciting blur. The past few months I’ve been so focused on the fact that this was an intensive summer course (how else would you learn a language in such a short time!) that I didn’t give much thought to how wonderful everyone would be. My teachers are amazing (and already piling on the homework!), the staff is supportive and caring, my fellow students are incredibly diverse and lovely, and the cultural field trips are a real treat. (See the bottom of this post for some pictures from our Patan tour this past Friday.) The Boudha community has also been so welcoming and patient – helping me find an umbrella for the monsoon downpours and pointing me in the right direction when I’m lost.

Boudha stupa in Boudhanath – the neighborhood of the institute.

The institute itself is housed on the edge of a Tibetan Buddhist monastery and includes courses such as Sanskrit, Buddhist studies, Classical Tibetan, and Colloquial Tibetan (as well as Nepali, of course). There are about 100 students here from all over the world studying anything from the languages of remote Nepali ethnic groups to the history of Nepali religious rituals and even to the endangered crocodiles in Chitwan. I’m learning so much.

As far as class goes, next week we move from the alphabet on to actual words and phrases, and I’m both excited and nervous about learning so much material. One thing I don’t have to worry about, though, is lacking support. I’m really lucky to have such a great community to help me during this process, and I can’t wait to see what the next few months bring!

Mansaf!

This is a response to Task 5 of the community interaction prompts. I absolutely love cooking and am passionate about food and its relation to culture and history so I will try not to ramble in this post! The “national dish” of Jordan is mansaf, one of my favorite foods ever. The word mansaf in Arabic literally means (in some contexts) a large serving tray. Mansaf is made from placing bread on the bottom of a tray, topping it with rice, and then topping that with lamb cooked in a yogurt sauce called jameed.

You can find this dish in restaurants although it is best eaten at home, especially for a big celebration. So I did not go to a restaurant to talk about the food but instead have talked about it countless times with families who are preparing it – in the Arab world, the best food is always in homes. Mansaf has been a traditional food of the Arab bedouins of the Arabian Peninsula for a very long time. Although it is considered the national dish of Jordan, some bedouins still eat it in Saudi Arabia as well. You can see the bedouin history in the dish especially in the yogurt, called jameed. Jameed is a goats milk yogurt that is dried and preserved in hard balls. This way the yogurt keeps and does not require refrigeration. The jameed is then soaked and cooked and it turns into a delicious, almost tangy and very rich yogurt. Typically, the bedouin would have served mansaf for a huge celebration like a wedding, in which they would have slaughtered a lamb or a goat as a way of showing gratitude and appreciation and so forth. The lamb is cooked in a rich broth with spices like cinnamon and bay leaf until it is tender. Then, some of this broth is used to flavor the jameed and the lamb is then put with the jameed to incorporate a bit. Some cooks make their rice with turmeric which adds to the presentation because of the beautiful yellow it turns the rice, but not everyone does this. Often, before eating, the host/cook will give you a small glass of the jameed to drink.

The “authentic” way to eat mansaf is with your hands. This practice is common in the Arab region, and has its roots in the sparse water supply, especially for the bedouin. If there is not a lot of water, you certainly don;’t want to have to worry about washing forks and spoons, when you can just wash your hand instead.

Mansaf was quickly adopted as a “national dish” after the formation of Jordan as a state in the mid-twentieth century, and although it is loved by everyone, there is a friendly, spirited debate among Jordanians about what dish is better: mansaf or msakkhan. Msakkhan is a Palestinian dish of chicken and onions cooked until soft and caramelized with tons and tons of sumac, a lemony, bright spice, and served over bread. Because there are so many Palestinians in Jordan, it is often debated in a friendly way which “team” you’re on as to which dish is better – mansaf or msakkhan.

In the end, both dishes reveal a lot about Jordanian culture and history. Mansaf reflects the dynamic bedouin tradition still alive and well in Jordan, and msakkahn reflects modern political realities of the Middle East since the second world war, when huge amounts of Palestinians were forced to come to Jordan to live.

Mansaf in Jordan, served with sides of fresh vegetables and onions covered in sumac.

Greetings from Amman

Greetings from Amman, Jordan. This weekend was Eid al-Fitr which is the Muslim holiday to end the month of Ramadan. In the days before Eid, the streets swell with parents out shopping for clothes and gifts to give their children to celebrate the end of Ramadan. I spent the weekend camping in the canyons of “Dana Biosphere Reserve” (see pictures) and doing some great hiking. We camped with local bedouins and had a wonderful celebration. The bedouins give new meaning to the word hospitality – serving us mint tea and “zarb,” a famous dish of lamb or goat cooked with rice, carrots, onions, and potatoes in a specially-constructed hole in the ground that is filled with olive wood for cooking.

I have completed two weeks of classes now and I am very grateful for this SLA grant because these classes are exactly what I need for my journey with the Arabic language. I am doing one-on-one reading tutorials with a professor here at the same school I studied at last summer with the CLS program. I work through the text at home and then we read together and work through the parts that I don’t understand. Aside from the obvious differences in script, grammar and so forth, understanding and interpreting well-written Arabic is very different from English. Sentences in Arabic can be very very long, and there are very often symbolic or poetic parts of the text, so it is essentially learning how to interpret the style of written Arabic. The most difficult part so far has been interpreting the poetry. Arabs have a rich poetic tradition and the poetry, especially from long ago in history, can be tremendously difficult to understand. So once again I have to express my gratitude for the SLA grant to provide me the opportunity to have these one-on-one lessons, which are serving as a springboard for me to launch into my dissertation research.