So that's Freiburg, or part of it at least, as seen from a largish hill near my dorm. I had no idea I could upload pictures this easily, so expect more in the future.

Let's Make It First-Degree Murder

I got a wisdom tooth out Tuesday. It was pretty cool, because I finally got to meet a trustworthy-looking German in a white labcoat, just like the ones you see on t.v.

I skipped German Lit that night because I was still a little sore (all better now). Which is just as well, because we were studying Kafka's short stories again (biographically, as if we read his works because he had an interesting life) and I'm sick of hearing about Kafka.

More importantly, I'm sick of hearing The Man in the Black Hat. Your typical classroom monkey, The Man in the Black Hat spends most of the class period with his hand in the air, as if we attend class only to hear his opinions.

While I usually believe in Honor Among Geeks, this kid goes too far.

It's not that he's stupid; he's actually quite bright, it's just that he doesn't seem to understand that our German Lit class (and, while I'm on the subject, our German Film class) is not meant to be a conversation between him and the professor.

Also, like most classroom monkeys, he doesn't understand that a question has to end with a question mark.

Simply put: he's a spaz.

Of course, if I've learned anything in Germany it's that some crimes are not committed by a single dysfunctional individual; rather, we must examine the larger group of people which tolerates and even encourages such crimes.

The next annoying thing to a Classroom Monkey is a class that, as a whole, refuses to answer even the easiest rhetorical questions. I've been in far too many of those, and, as much as I love the sound of my own voice, I can't jump in every time the prof wants some feedback.

There's only one person here who's willing to do that. His voice, it hurts me so.

The Cologne Weekend

Back from Cologne, home of both a Chocolate Museum and a Beer Museum. Also, there's a beautiful cathedral. And one of the world's largest collections of paintings by Picasso. And though I didn't drink much of it, Cologne makes a special kind of beer, the Koelscher, which resembles a pils but has no carbon dioxide whatsoever.

So the Beer Museum, of all the sites we saw, was the most surprising. The Urbanite, myself, and The Urbanite's west coast boyfriend went there hoping to find a little something to eat, but since they had no such thing, we had a little something to drink instead.

Surprising, as I said. It's not so much a museum as it is a very well stocked bar. 18 beers on tap and many more in bottles. The West Coaster ordered us a round of the "strongest beer in the house" and we all drank EKU (12%) while an old man of questionable sexuality offered The West Coaster cigarette after cigarette.

It was, above all, a bonding experience.

After three rounds we wandered back to the hotel. Some combination of the time of day (8:30) and my ability to walk (questionable) made the frat-types at the hotel quite proud of me, but since I can't fathom why I'll skip down to the scene in the bathroom.

Though I'm undoubtedly a lightweight when compared to most guys and many girls, I've only been stupid enough to drink enough to throw up once: at the [First Annual] Lawrence Drinkeroo.

This time was much better, more of a cleansing ritual at some immaculately white temple than a just punishment for a night of idiocy. Plus, this time I prettymuch had to force myself, whereas last time… anyways, where was I?

I felt immediately better, showered of my own accord and went out for pizza with The West Coaster and The Urbanite. Afterwards we all went our seperate ways. The night was, after all, still young.

Yesterday morning we were in Bonn, and I saw many wonderful works of art which, this time, I was allowed to photograph. Max Ernst, I'm coming to realize, is one of my favorite artists. We went to the German history museum as a group and learned about the Holocaust and how great J.F.K. was.

Later.

Computer Time

In the computer lounge again. As per usual, I've coincidently signed up for the easiest classes, so I've got more free time than (apparently) any other IES student. Which means typing. Lots and lots of typing.

Which is a danger. I'm already around Americans all day, the least I could do is not spend hours on a computer writing in English. While I was in Konstanz during high school, I spent two or three hours every day emailing people back home and learning very little German.

I remember one student, a brazen reactionary I sat with at lunch every now and then, who cut himself off from Americans for three months.

Admirable and (as I know after spending a blissfully isolated month in D.C.) quite doable as that is, I won't go to that length for the sake of my German.

I'm just not going to make this into a habit, is what I'm trying to say.

Although, speaking of habits, it's Shot Night at Stusi bar, and I'm of legal age. Oh, and there's a trip to Bonn this weekend. And the two most annoying people in the program aren't going. Hurrah!

So I'm done with the first week of "IES" (or as I now like to call them: "fake") classes here in Freiburg. University ("real") classes start next week.

I've got a Modern German Lit class taught by an enthusiastic prof obviously fresh out of grad school, a Domestic Politics class taught by a leftist with only one color in her wardrobe, a pre-WWI German History class taught by an old man (who I swear they wind up every day before class), and a three-hour Postwar German Film class taught by an accomplished librarian.

There's some sort of Economics class too, but that starts next week.

This, then, is the first of many three-day weekends. Hurrah!

I talked to Flo earlier this week (for the first time in years). He's considered unfit for military/volunteer service so he's starting college a year early.

(I'd always thought that Arno, for all his Sportlichkeit, was in worse shape than my gothic-nerd former exchange student. I guess I was wrong.)

So it looks like I'm going to Leipzig at some point to "have a beer." Flo's knack for brushing off logistically complicated events as casual meetings is truly breathtaking.

Another surprise was Flo's accent: sure of my apparently much-improved German abilities, he dropped the high-german and lapsed into his native baddish while we were on the phone. Naturally, I couldn't understand a word.

I suppose something should be said for the Americans I'm hanging out with here, since (with rare exceptions) they're the only people I talk to.

I've never been among so many different types of American. Almost everyone at Lawrence is from the midwest and (with the always-notable exception of Graham) all my high school friends were born and raised in Minnesota.

Most of the people here are of course from Minnesota. I'm sure it's quite a shock for the Californians and New Yorkers to have to acknowledge the part of America between the coasts.

The first person I met here, someone I still hang out with, is The Suburbanite, a St. Thomas student (she doesn't know my brother's girlfriend, sadly) from one of those aloof and parochial bedroom communities on the outskirts of the Twin Cities.

She's a social butterfly and a modest maker of plans, but like all suburbanites, she has no idea how cheap things can be. She loves Minnesota more than I love taffy (she talks about our state almost constantly) and plans to live there for the rest of her life.

There are, besides The Suburbanite, other Minnesotans I see regularly. But they don't live in Vauban (my housing complex; it's pronounced with the heaviest French accent you can summon) and don't get called for every outing. Plus, I want to get through the major arcana before I run out of steam.

The Pancake Man, obliviously typing away at the computer next to mine, is one of the afore-mentioned coast people.

Vermont. Let's not get technical.

He doesn't drink, a readily apparent idiosyncrasy in this country among these people, and he's got an American girlfriend in Spain. He cooks a mean (in the good modern sense of the word, not the bad 18-century sense) omelet and delicious cookies.

He's a would-be filmmaker ala Dawson and 70% of my conversations with him are movie-related. We're secretly hoping to expose him to independent/foreign films and, in-so-doing, cure him of his current Shawkshank Redemption-loving Hollywood mentality.

The Pancake Man was raised by volunteers, liberal issues-people who spend large chunks of time at non-profit organizations. He likes Michael Moore, which I've decided not to hold against him.

The Urbanite, a sophistimacated New Yorker majoring in Political Science, is the third person I see and talk to every single day. She brought a Canadian flag to Germany ("just in case") and tells Germans she's majoring in English Literature in order to avoid heated political discussions. She's a veteran club-goer and an impulsive drunk.

That strategerically altered "sophistimacated" notwithstanding, The Urbanite is actually sophisticated. Exactly what you'd (meaning "I'd") expect from a New Yorker. The Urbanite is a completely different creature, with quite a few layers to her personality (whereas I can admit, with no offense intended, that I've met The Suburbanite or her equivalent before).

I can't quite understand The Urbanite yet (it's pretty conceited of me to claim to "understand" anyone, really, but I honestly think I usually do.)

I adverb verb I adverb verb… cool.

Anyways, I'm slightly fascinated with The Urbanite (which undoubtedly has something to do with my romanticised notion of big city life), and just glad in general to have met some chill people. Those three are the most important, the ones (as I already said) who I see every day. More as time and necessity permits.

Later.

Daheim

Back from Berlin… good times, good times.

Classes, real classes, start today. My first class, a Lit class, is at 6. Which is simply wonderful.

Planning trips tonight with some of the other Amis. Prague is the only city we're all dead-set on seeing, albeit for different reasons. I'd go prettymuch anywhere if tickets cost less than $40 (which, it turns out, is often the case).

I'll email the Londonite Lawrentians eventually; assuming I'm welcome, I'll stop by England for a three-day weekend (with some good cheap German beer; I'm told it's an expensive country.)

And of course anyone is welcome to visit me in Freiburg or tag along on a weekend trip to an exciting European city. But that almost goes without saying, I should hope.

There's excitement in the air, but it's pretty cold out, here.