(June events)
It started with the North Germany Annual Conference at the end of May. I wound up attending only the end of the conference, but because the meeting place was so far from Genthin, I took a few days to get there, visiting folks along the way. My first stop was in Magdeburg by my pastor's family. Though Jürgen was already at conference, Claudia and the boys (ages 14, 11 and 8) were around. At Christmas I had given each of the boys two "coupons" for outings with me: one for the movies and one for ice cream. 8-year-old Elija had been asking about the ice cream since January, so finally in late May we made our way to a nice, outdoor cafe a few (long) city blocks away. Ahead of time I'd been thinking, what will an 8-year-old boy and this 23-year-old have to talk about? But I should have known better. Elija loves to talk. All the way to the cafe he chatted away: about his school work, the vegetables he needed to know for his next test, the animal names he already knew in English. I was struggling to understand him against the noise of the city and had to bend and walk at a stoop. But that little Energizer bunny just kept going and going, even keeping pace with my almost-normal walking stride. He picked out a nice table in the sun for us and our conversation continued. I could see the guests at neighboring tables gaining interest in this little chatter box when the impossible happened. It got quiet. I think this lasted for a total of 3 seconds before Elija interjected, "so what do you want to talk about now?" I laughed and conversation picked up again between sips of iced coffee and him devouring a Mickey Mouse Sundae. After our ice cream we walked to a playground, Elija giving me an earful about soccer stuff that I wouldn't have understood had he been speaking English. Arriving at the playground I sought out a ledge while he climbed up a large jungle gym (on the safe parts because he's afraid of heights) and slid down a large slide. After just one slide he came back to me and sat down. "Is that it?" I asked. "Yeah," he answered, "but we could talk more, if you want."
After spending a night with the Stolzes I headed to Hannover to visit college friend, Sean, who's been teaching English in a German high school on a Fulbright scholarship. Between my travel and his work schedule, we didn't have all that much time together. But we spent the afternoon walking around the city and the evening with parents of a mutual friend of ours, whom we met through the Dickinson exchange. Unfortunately, Anja moved to Frankfurt in March, but the four of us (ok, 5 with the dog) had a great evening complete with cook-out and slide show of the new condo they'd just purchased in Florida. We had a good laugh over the potential slogan for the website: "You won't find this on the Baltic." And it's certainly true. As beautiful as Germany is in all corners of the country, the geographic diversity of the States is really unmatchable. Yet for some reason I've found the flatlands and windmills to be more enticing than beach parties and boat outings, at least right now. I guess this is just another case of "greener grass" syndrome, but the important thing is that I feel like I'm where I'm supposed to be.
Silhouette of Sean in the Hannover Rathaus
After a late night at the Paetzolds, I got up unbearably early to catch a train to conference, where I had to camp out in a tent for one night due to a registration mix-up. I got there to find that I wasn't registered at all (even though I had received a confirmation that I was), and then I headed off to pitch a tent for the first time in my life. Luckily, the person I was borrowing the tent from had gone through a trial run with me, and I knew what I was doing. It went off without a hitch except for that fact that it was burning hot. The heat, disorganization, and me not really knowing what to do with myself left me in less than the best state for the "Faith Conference," which was full of speakers and workshops, most of which were trying to attack the problem of shrinking and dying churches. And though much of what the leaders had to say was true, it's not motivational speaking alone that brings about change in a church. It's easy to give a cheer when the "but-we've-always-done-it-this-way" mentality is attacked, but it's a lot harder to face people, who see nothing wrong with that way of thinking, on a day to day basis. And--most importantly--to face them with love, understanding, and the courage and tact necessary to bring about change.
I spent a lot of my free time with my English-speaking colleagues, for whom--and shame on the conference--there was no translation. Many in the group are new arrivals to Germany and just haven't had enough time with the language. Though I'm all about learning the language of the place where you live, it's obviously quite difficult to become fluent in a new language when you're employed full time directing English-speaking programming. At the same time, I was proud of myself when I realized how well I survived without any translation. The very youthful and modern contemporary praise band was much to my liking, but I couldn't help think about all the older members of the conference for whom the style of music (which was practically the only one offered for the time I was there) had less meaning. Forcing the church in new directions isn't going to get anyone anywhere either, but maybe I'm too much of a stuck-in-the-mud traditionalist. In any event, I was happy when our lay rep. and I ducked out a bit early to visit his daughter on our way back to Genthin. It was also wonderful to drive in a car instead of schlepping my gear back on the train. I am usually more than happy to hop on bikes and trains and feel like I'm doing my part for the environment. But sometimes riding in a car is just heavenly, and this was one of those occasions.
Back in Genthin I had just time enough to shower, unpack, and repack before heading a few streets down to Karolina, whom I'd been tutoring in English since the beginning of the year. Karolina is 12 and lives alone with her grandmother (a member of our congregation), her mother having died of cancer back in Russia. Karolina, her grandmother, and now 21-year-old half brother moved to Germany three and a half years ago, the brother having since moved into his own apartment. The grandmother, unfortunately, also has some health problems and had to spend a month in a sanatorium in southern Germany. Karolina's aunt, with whom she often stays overnight, also had to go away to work for two weeks, leaving Karolina alone. Her Grandma asked if I wouldn't mind stepping in to take care of her until the aunt returned, and I readily agreed. I'd loved Karolina from our first lesson and was glad, though a little nervous, about spending the extended time with her. How would I function in this half-mother, half-sister role? Especially considering my non-existent cooking skills. Luckily, Grandma cooked and froze more food than we could have eaten in the full month, and with a few exceptions, the kitchen situation worked out fine.
As did the living situation. I'll be honest; the first few days wore me to the ground. Adjusting to a more regular schedule that started a few hours earlier than the semi-routine I'd been used to was no easy task. Even though Karolina was good about getting up on time and getting herself fed, dressed, and out the door, I still found myself with plenty to do around the house. I was also beginning a second English course at the church--a mere three hours a week--but was, of course, stressed with preparations and getting the word out and coming up with creative topics. Running between Karolina's, home, church, and my other meetings and engagements was quite strenuous. In the beginning of our two and a half weeks together my calendar was especially packed, and when I announced one day at breakfast that I had an entire afternoon and evening free, Karolina beamed and exclaimed, "finally!"
Over time the schedules more or less aligned themselves and we went on many adventures. Most of them included riding our bikes to nearby Mützel, often singing US pop songs at the top of our lungs on the way. Karo also showed a particular interest in playing volleyball, and a few times we positioned ourselves on opposite sides of a sand court and tried in vain to keep the ball from flying all over the place. One day a group of teenagers showed up, also wanting to use the court. Karolina and I had already been playing for a while, so I offered let them have the court, much to Karo's disappointment. But then they asked if they couldn't join us, and the six of us played a few games together before we headed out. Karolina was in seventh heaven, having gotten to play with the "big kids," as I sadly realized how much older than these kids I was. She talked the whole ride home about how much fun it had been and how great we'd played (even though I wasn't convinced that the latter was the case), and I thought about how lucky I was to have wound up linked to such a great kid.
A little more than halfway through the month, Bridget Farraday, a girl from my home congregation, came for a two-week visit. I moved out of Karolina's and had just one night at home before going to meet her at the airport in Berlin. I'll share of our adventures mostly in the next entry, but Bridget was the perfect addition to Karolina's and my dynamic duo. Smack dab between the two of us age-wise, she also joined us on a bike ride to Mützel, in watching the championship, and in just being silly and goofy and having a good time. Little did I know then, those days would be some of my last with Karolina, as her grandmother has decided to move south to be closer to her sister. Just today I spoke with Karolina, who confirmed the sad rumor I heard in church yesterday. She's had to spend a good chunk of her summer studying Latin to catch up with her new classmates in Baden-Württemberg, who have already had a year of it. She is, of course, not thrilled about moving to a place where she has no friends or family in her age group, but I hope that she'll find better future prospects in a state where the economy and educational opportunities are a little better. Needless to say, I'm heartbroken that this little sister of mine is leaving. I will miss our English lessons and hang-out time tremendously.
Mach's gut, Karolina. Gott mit dir.
Me on the Ferris Wheel
A picture of us in front of the hotel we stayed in with Dickinson...how things have changed...
The visit to the memorial site was striking. It's embarrassing to admit that as a German major, my first visit to a former concentration camp came a year after graduation. Of course there were the classes and discussions and papers, and I've heard and learned a lot vicariously through Sarah. But even though it was a bright and sunny day, and the grounds today look nothing like they did then, it was an eerie feeling. I can't at all imagine what the prisoners went through, even though quite a few accounts were related to me. You can't understand suffering like that unless you experience it. But what I struggled to wrap my head around was knowing which side of the fence I'd have wound up on, had I lived at that time. It pierced me as I wandered through the outlines of the barracks. I thought about the horrible terror my great-grandparents saved us from by immigrating. I shuddered to think of what I'd have done, or wouldn't have done, in the face of such darkness. It's a horrible, shameful feeling, thinking that I wouldn't have been brave enough to be a Schindler or Bonhoeffer. And it made me wonder how many evils I overlook today, how many I inadvertently benefit from. Despite my title, I'm not the social justice pioneer that many of my colleagues are. When it's time for action I find my feet stuck to the floor and my tongue glued to the roof of my mouth. I want to change this about me, without being someone or something that I'm not. And as I slowly struggle to loose my tongue, I thank Goodness for the wealth of friends, mentors and colleagues who serve as good examples.
One little intern and one little church.
Nothing like grilled cheese and Cambell's tomato soup on a chilly January day in Genthin!
United Methodists at the Brandenburg Gate, Berlin. (Miriam Meinhardt, responsible for kids' and youth ministries in our district, is taking the picture and therefore unfortunately not shown.)
During a walk around the grounds of the Charlottenburg Palace, Berlin
Dickinsonians in the Checkpoint Charlie Museum.