So it's been a while since I've posted. And for the six or so of you who actually read my blog, I am sorry; I hope this little injection of Chester patented sarcasm will be enough to get you through the lonely and uneventful nights. hehehe. Okay so life has been pretty uneventful here. I got back and was thoroughly whipped with work. I've just caught up this week and have been hit again with another German whammy. It'll be over soon though, and home is looking sweeter than ever. So having been here for a few weeks, I've been contemplating the question--pretty much ever time I have open my German textbook--of whether coming to Germany was a good idea. I don't want to say no, because saying no means that I had made a poor choice and then my parents would have been right and you all know how much kids hate it when their parents are right; well, I'm that kid--times ten. I came to Germany on a whim, mostly because I wanted to stay away from Stanford as long as I could and partly because the Stanford in Berlin program offered me the chance to go to the Berlin Film Festival. Well the festival was amazing and from that standpoint it was worth coming to Germany. But, unfortunately my emotional highs and lows eventually fade from my memory and I am left with the present and the reality that is in the here and now. The here and now for the last three weeks since the festival has been my beloved *cough* German class. I am being really sarcastic, I know, but fear not this post has a happy ending.
I decided to come to Berlin because one of my closest friends is here and because I wanted to place myself in a new environment. I told myself, "Self, you always say how much you like learning languages and new cultures and meeting new people, so why don't you take it a step further and go to a place that you would never go to otherwise. "My self reciprocated with a yes and that's how I ended up here. Having been here for over two months now, I must admit, I don't particularly care for Germany or German culture. I don't know if it is because I've reached my critical limit in cultural interest or what, but the truth is, I just don't care to be here or learn about German culture. I know this is harsh, but this is my blog and I feel the need to be honest. I also came to Germany thinking I wanted to feel what it was like being an ethnic minority, as if living in America wasn't enough to experience that. What I've come to realize is that, at least in Berlin, it is very different than in my beloved USA. *Important to note- so I am from NYC and NYC is a very particular place with one of the most diverse populations in the world; my comparison is not fair because my point of reference is not on the same level. I have been subject to discrimination on the streets, random, scary, Neo-Nazi resembling Germans on the street have given me dirty looks and howled at me; when I get on the train I am often the only colored person in my car. I never thought this would bother me, but on a subconscious level I think it does; because if it didn't I don't think I would think about it as much. To be fair most Germans are not like that and in no way am I saying that Germans are racially prejudiced, rather what I am saying is that Berlin, despite being one of the most ethnically diverse cities in Germany, is still predominantly white; this may be the case in NYC as well, I'm not actually sure, but I certainly don't feel that way. It might also have something to do with not speaking the language, but for what it's worth these are my thoughts and observations.
Now moving onto a happier topic... I think my time in Germany has been worth the money and the hours studying a language I probably will never use primarily because by coming here I have had the fortune of meeting my host mother, Dagmar. I could probably right a small volume on the impact that she has had on me in the last two months, but let's suffice it to say that though I've known her only for a few weeks, I love her like my own mother. She has taken care of me when I have been sick, encouraged me every time I feel down and worthless, and she has smiled and given me one of her great "hurrays" every time I've come home with good news. I feel like I used to in elementary school coming home anxious to tell my parents any good news I might have received just so I could see their approving smiles. It's like that, but better because I'm older and I can really appreciate it. Dagmar and I have this deep spiritual connection; despite having differing faith backgrounds, Muslim and Christian respectively. We are able to connect very deeply in our faith in a single and all powerful, all merciful and all loving God. It is a connection that has proved to be somewhat of a revelation to me in that our relationship has shown me concretely what is possible between people when mutual love and respect are the cornerstones of the relationship. The other day she said to me that you really know when you are comfortable with someone when you can stand complete silence for prolonged periods of time when in each other's presence. I thought about it and I nodded my head in agreement. I never feel like I have to speak in order to drown out the silence; every moment is precious be it in conversation or just in being.
I really could go on for pages about the things I've learned and the things that I will probably continue to learn after I leave Germany and reflect on my time with Dagmar, but I won't inundate you with my sentimental ruminations. A little bit at a time, that's what Dagmar always tells me. She should know, after all, she's 40 years older than me. A wise woman she is, a wise and beautiful woman.
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You are a lucky person to have a great host mother.
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