Twenty Somethings and living in “Never, never, land”

I haven’t written in this blog much lately. Turns out adjusting to living in a foreign country, working five to seven days a week, traveling during time off, and having a new relationship takes up a fair amount of your time. But, alas, this is what I have thought about lately.

When I first came to Germany every conversation with my mother would constantly ask about my waitress job. Do I like it, how my money do I make, what is it like working on a military base. Finally, she always sneaks in this final question, “Have you thought about going back to school or coming back to your lab job? What is your roommate doing? Is she still applying to physical therapy schools?“ After spending four years in college, taking as many credits I could fit into a semester, seeking out internships and working part time at one or two jobs at a time so I could land the benefited job I got when graduated and plan my future I have found myself in a foreign country working as a server. And, for the time being I am perfectly content with going with the flow and not planning my future, but rather letting the future, at least for a little while, work itself out. Am I just another twenty something hipster douche bag who cannot accept adult responsibility?

According to one of my costumers I am a “German ski resort bum”. Point taken. My responsibilities are work in a restaurant and then travel to all the beautiful sights I find in National Geographic or on WikiTravel. I am literally living a dream that some people spend their entire lives preparing for. While traveling the world is probably one of the best decisions I’ve made for myself, student loans and unexpected bills fall into my lap. I can’t help but panic that it may be longer than I expected before I can actually afford to come home.

The New York Times published an article about my generation around the time I moved overseas, “What is it about Twenty Somethings?”. The article first argues that our generation is a bunch of lazy snots that didn’t get enough discipline from out parents and therefore can’t handle ourselves in the big bad real world. It then goes on to argue that maybe our generation deserves a little bit of credit as we are wise to wait to get married, have kids, buy a house and hit all the major mile stones of the American Dream. Precisely, who is this romanticized, uncommitted, worry free, twitter loving, hipster, pot smoking twenty something, anyway? And does this worry free narcissistic hipster actually exist? For the most part, no, I don’t think so.

Moving to an air base I’ve met a variety of twenty something’s that have been left out. Anyone who has joined the military are ignored. Those who are married, have kids, and work long days to survive a weak economy are ignored. Those with a myriad of debt in their youth are ignored. Looking at my friends, many of them are still in serious committed relationships, work to pay their bills, and simply will not be able to afford the American dream for years to come. Perhaps, then, we aren’t living in the clouds and procrastinating just for the fun (well, maybe, partially for the fun of it) of it but see the job market and American dream for what it is. That is, it is no longer guaranteed. So, we take advantage of opportunities as they come, whether those opportunities are a job, travel, participating in social change, a relationship, family, or something else. We work as hard as we can to make ends meet. Finally, we try not worry about whether our decisions fit into the ideals that the previous generation had for us. If that makes us apathetic and narcissistic, so be it.

Or, Here’s an even more eloquent explanation than my own of my generations inability to “grow up”.

The next post will have pictures, I promise.

Landstuhl

I arrived in Germay mid August and nearly three months later I have found myself in a place I can call home. Welcome to Landstuhl. Population nine thousand. Five kilometers from work, yeah, get used to this kilometer business. Has a train station. Full of adorable German houses. The dogs are larger and fluffier, due to the weather, than Tucson dogs. These dogs are allowed in restaurants and cafes due to exceptional behavior. Kinders (children) that get out of school at 1:00pm and line up outside my window. Oh yeah, and strip clubs.

The train station in Landstuhl.

My roommates and I live on the Friedhofstrasse. Friedhofstrasse broken down means: cemetery street. Being ignorant Americans we pronounced it “fry-ed hahf “ and thought nothing of the meaning of the word. It should be pronounced “free-ed hahf”. And, right outside of our apartment there are grave stones. To be fair, unless you take a good long look at said grave stones they could easily be misinterpreted as rocks that someone was too lazy to removed in a rather unkempt front yard. This is exactly what Sarah and I thought when we signed the lease to our apartment. A month later a friend pointed out we were living on the cemetery street and that our front yard is, in fact, a miniature cemetery.

The large cemetery up the street from our aparment.

More of the cemetery.

Friedhofstrasse.

Small cemetery in our front yard.

The apartment itself is located on a hill that leads up to the Landstuhl castle. Just down the hill are two local bars: Oscars and the Red Lion. Oscars is an Irish pub that is, shockingly, frequented by those from the United Kingdom and Americans. The Red Lion is also full of Americans and seems to be the place to go after long evening shifts at Macaroni Grill. In Landstuhl the bars close at 1 a.m. on weekdays and 2 a.m. on weekends. This is an uncommon practice for European pubs. Most of the time the pubs close as the sun starts to rise. Hence, I am lead back to the abundance of strip clubs and an explanation strip club alley.

The road to the forest from our apartment.

The road to the center of the town from our apartment.

Strip club alley is paradoxical to a seemingly quaint and lovely German town. Upon pub closing time all of those who still want to stay out late are told, by the bar owners themselves, to make their way over to the strip clubs. Tennessee, Moonlight, and the Hawai (not Hawaii) Bar. These strip clubs–by admitting this I live in slight fear of what my mother and folks back home will think after reading this blog entry–consist of approximately one striper and more than one separate room away from the stage that resemble a bar or pub minus the strippers. Folks can hang out in the strip bars while avoiding the atmosphere, I suppose a strip club would have, until the wee morning hours. I may be naïve. In the states I had never actually been in a strip club. But I assume the average strip club contains more than one stripper and a bunch of people, mostly men, that came to the establishment with the intention of gawking at strippers rather than because the pubs closed and they need a place to go.

The first view you get from the train station, strip club alley.

So, here’s the hypothesis generated by my friends and I: the strip club owners have found a loophole in the law that demands bars close at 2 a.m. and have converted said strip clubs into bars that resemble strip clubs but would not deter the average young bar aficionado, male or female, from attending. I know this doesn’t make me sound good. Perhaps I even sound as if I am on a sort of downward spiral into the world of the German sex trade and a step away from snorting cocaine off the asses of hookers, but I really do think these bars put of the facade of a strip club. The owners know they can make more money off the young people who came from the closed pub than strip club enthusiasts.

The full view of strip club alley and a nun I met while taking pictures.

Besides strip clubs, Landstuhl is a German town full of snitzel, doner, and endearing coffee shops that contain delectable German pastries, cakes, coffee and Hefeweizen. Yes, German coffee shops serve hefeweizen. I’ve already decided that if heaven exists it will be a German coffee shop containing delicious cappuccino and cakes followed by a half liter of Hefeweizen. Germans serve their beer by the half liter, an idea that ought to be embraced by the United States. While sipping on my coffee and beer I would be serenaded by The Beatles themselves. Then I would have insightful conversations with John Lennon about the meaning of life. And the coffee shop would be located on top of the alps. Done. Heaven. Artful coffee and cake almost negate the fact that the weather in Germany is less than desirable compared to sunny, tan skinned, light sweaters in the winter Tucson weather.

There are ups and downs to living in Germany. The weather is not so great and as I type the sun is setting at 4:45 pm at the beginning of November. Meeting Germans is harder than I would have expected especially when there are so many Americans in the area. Making American friends seems to be an easy fall back amid the uncomfortable chaos of adjusting to a far away country. One of my goals is to branch out to more Germans while continuing to keep the American friends I have already made. The process is long and challenging especially when many German folks tend to avoid bars with Americans. You have to talk to, and learn to talk to, numerous sources to figure out where the other young Germans go. Finally, there is a language barrier and I have still not begun taking German classes due to the long process of getting an apartment, starting a new job, and basically starting life all over from scratch in a completely foreign culture, and this includes American military culture, with less money than I should have prepared for.

Welcome to Landstuhl, baby. Willkommen Landstuhl.

Goals

Originally I figured I would come to Europe for a year, see everything, and then jump right back into the rat race of graduate school or post-college careers. Considering I have been here over two months and it took us over a month to find an apartment, a few weeks to even find a couch for the apartment, and finally just received my first pay check there is no way I am leaving Europe, unless dictated by an emergency, ten months after barely settling. There’s way too much to do and way too many wunders of the world to see, touch, and taste. And, in order to please the “type A” side of my personality that I’m trying to minimize by living here I’ve decided to make a tentative list of goals that I should achieve before I can leave Europe.

1) Go see the fjords and northern lights in Norway. The fjords are essentially valleys cut out between mountains by glaciers during the ice age. I also wonder if said fjords may be melting due to global warmer which makes this goal a dire one.
2) Go to Egypt, see the Pyramids and as many ruins as I can. I figure I’m the closest I may ever be to Egypt and have the opportunity to fly over there without paying an ungodly price.
3) Go to Paris. If I live in Europe for over a year, possibly two or three and don’t make it to Paris then I probably fail at living in Europe.
4) Go to Turkey. For one I need to visit my cousin, for second I have got to see Istanbul.
5) Go to Stockholm. I’m part Swedish, I should go discover my roots.
6) Go back to Scotland, enough said.
7) Go visit Shannon in Ireland and go with Loki so he can get in an Irish bar fight.
8) Go to Bavaria, see the Neuschwanstein castle. This is the castle that inspired the Disney Sleeping Beauty castle and is consider a wonder of the world.
9) Learn German. So far I haven’t done very well with this one. I’m going to take a class at some point because I think the structure will help me. I’ve picked up some German such as numbers and food items. Although during Oktoberfest I thought I was being a really clever and aware American when I ordered beers for me and my friends in German and kept requesting “frei hefeweizen” from the bar tend. “Frei” means free, what I should have been saying is “vier hefeweizen”. I kept insisting to the bartender “nein, nein, nein, frei bier” when he would respond saying “nein vier”. After about ten minutes I realized I was saying the wrong word and the bartender laughed at me, smiled, winked, and gave me a thumbs-up and my “vier” beers.
10) Take somebody who has never been to Interlaken.
11) Go skiing or snowboarding in the alps.
12) Go to Amsterdam, probably more than once since it is so close. Also, see the tulips when they bloom.
13) See as much of Italy as I can.
14) Eat as much of Italy as I can.
15) Go to Carnivale in Venice.
16) Go see the running of the bulls in Spain.
17) Go Nice and Canes in Southern France.
18) Go to Romania, but probably not by myself.
19) Go to Greece. Duh.
20) Go to Oktoberfest again, but this time in a dirndl.
21) Go to Austria.

I’ll think of more, I’m sure. Any suggestions on things to do? Looks like I’m going to be here for a long while.

Double Culture Shock….!

Before I arrived in Germany I had never stepped foot on any sort of military base. Back home I hardly knew anyone that joined the armed forces or would even consider it as a viable option. And, of course, I had my stereotypes and probably still do, although am learning, of who joins the military and what that entails. My first day in Germany Sarah dragged me onto base to get an identification card and some food. In the span of twenty or so hours I went from America to Germany to America in Europe. I was greeted with a large mall, burger king, Chili’s, Macaroni Grill, housing, schools for military kids, a skate park, and a bunch of official buildings and people. It’s basically America that would be familiar to anyone regardless of the state they originate from. Regardless of how American I may be, there was no way to prepare myself for America in Germany.

On base you have SUVs. Off base you have tiny German cars and BMWs. On base people are in uniform. Off base everyone wears skinny jeans and scarves. On base: kid and family friendly. Off base: Kaiserslautern is a German college town meets young military folks that may be going out for the first time after being deployed or the last time before they get deployed, and everything in between. On base: I am twenty three, female, and working on an air base. So, I get asked, “Are you married? What does your husband do? Do you have kids?” Off base: I’m a young twenty something finding myself and bumming in hostels among other confused youth. On base: people drink Bud Light, even the Germans on base do this! What a sin! We’re in Germany and you are drinking Bud Light?! Anyway. Off base: everyone drinking liters and half liters of hefeweizen and pilsner. On base: restaurants and bars play Journey. Off base: restaurants and bars play Journey. Apparently, Germans love Journey and enjoy drunkenly singing “Small Town Girl” just as much as Americans do.

Nonetheless, no matter how much I researched or prepared myself for this German/America experience I could not have predicted the absolute helpfulness and kindness that I’ve experienced from both the base community and the German people. Since I arrived in this community my roommates and I have been given two televisions, two rugs, a place to stay for over a month while we searched for housing, and endless amounts of tips and advice about living in this community. I’ve borrowed a car. We have been invited into newly met acquaintance’s homes and given food, schnapps, and places to stay if we had too many schnapps. A free service known as Airmen Against Drunk Driving picks up drunken fools like us on weekends and takes you and your car back to your home, for free. The sense of community is strong here.

Barcelona, Getting Settled, Can’t blog!!

Getting settled on an air base is a long and tedious process. This is why I haven’t blogged since Interlaken. Most people that settled on an air base have family or a spouse that can help them through the paper work, background check, and various other random tasks you must do in order to be cleared by the government. I’ll save you the tedium and move on to the first post about Barcelona.

Big cities can be a hit or miss. You can fall in love with the sounds, the art, and the helpfulness of a diverse group of strangers. Or you can feel alienated among folks that seem cynical and jaded by the fast paced lifestyle that a large city demands.

Barcelona is defined by colors and friendly residents.

The magic fountain show runs every Thursday through Saturday in front of the the main city government building. This is amazing to me, it’s pretty much the Las Vegas fountain show at the Bellagio in front of a government building. It draws thousands of tourists, some the are carrying bottles of wine, and many of them were dancing in front of the fountain–including us.

The food market is an eye-gasm of color and fruits.

And then there’s Gaudi, more to come about Gaudi later.

Interlaken

It’s been a while since I’ve had a new post due to traveling, finding an apartment, and starting my job.

I visited Interlaken, Switzerland on a whim after missing my train to Lyon. Fantastic. Life. Decision. Interlaken is, hands down, the most gorgeous place I have ever been to. The scenery looks like it has been painted in the sky by the hands of God him (or her)self just for you, the tourist, to look at. It seems as if snow and glacier waterfalls are placed strategically to give the viewer the fullest aesthetic experience of the Swiss Alps. The painting is finished with details of enormous Swiss cows–their necks draped with bells–that live in the middle of the mountains where the grass begins to turn to snow. If you take a cable car to the top of one of the peaks you will ride above these Swiss cows. You will look down to see them when the wind catches and their bells start to ring and you will think to yourself “if I come back as a cow in my next life this is where I want to be.” It is the ultimate cow paradise.

The town itself seems to function to serve the needs of tourists. Because the town is a tourist trap everything is ungodly expensive. Despite the touristy feel of the city and the money you’ll inevitably spend, the natural beauty of the area is well worth it.

And so, Interlaken is best described through pictures:

Some of the farm land.

This is part of a hiking trail I rode a bike up to. The glaciers at the top of the mountains provide this rushing water. It is unbelievably clear and untainted, you can literally drink this water. In fact, in Switzerland, you do!

This is a fountain where you fill your water bottle with fresh Swiss glacier water. These fountains run continuously. Being from the desert my immediate reaction was to try and turn all of these fountains off and conserve water.

A view of the lake from the hiking trail.

From Interlaken you can take a scenic train ride to Grindlewald and go up to First, a smaller peak of the one of the mountains. I took a cable car, it would take about two to three hours and arrived in the town unprepared to hike. At the top of the pike you can zip line to the second highest stopping point.

Grindlewald:

In Interlaken you either hike, bike, or partake in an outdoor sport. After I visited Grindlewald I ran into a friend from the hostel I was staying at. He was about to leave for hang gliding and asked if I wanted to go. I had about 3 minutes to make up my mind as the van was already on its way. So, on impulse I decided why not.

View from hang gliding.

Australians are fucking fearless and seem to run many of these outdoor adventure sports in Interlaken. Or perhaps there weren’t as many Australians as I perceived and I started looking for them once I got the idea in my head that they are fearless. Regardless, everyone should hang glide with an Australian. Most rides are up in the air for about twenty minutes, I got lucky and was in the air for about a half hour to forty five minutes. My instructor caught some good wind and our glider went up and up and up, fast. As this is happening the instructor, Bernie, says to me, “Ariel this is a very special flight, we never get to go this high.” And, of course, all I can think to myself is, “please don’t tell me you never go this high. I want to believe you’ve done this at least a million times before you took me up here.”

Hang gliding is a surreal experience. My mind would go back and forth between, “Oh, my, god! I’m flying like in my dreams and I’m in Switzerland. Life does not get much better than this. I can’t believe people can fly. Best invention EVER,” and “I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die.” When we landed Bernie asked me how I felt and what I thought. I literally could not talk for about a half hour as I came to term with the fact that I just flew in the air in the alps and was still alive. Bernie, of course, expects this and hands you “the best beer in the world”. Because now matter how awful the beer tastes after hang gliding it is, actually, the best beer in the world.

Interlaken has bad beer. It’s basically Swiss bud light and all of the cans and bottles say “Lager Hell”. Hell means light, but Larger Hell will pretty much sum up your experience with this beer since a) it has that wonderful college keg party taste and b) it’s really easy to drink.

My last point about Interlaken is if you go, stay at Balmers. Just do it.

German Countryside

At the moment, Sarah and I are in the German countryside staying with a friend of a friend in his house outside of base in the countryside. Essentially you cannot leave the countryside without a car. I have not started my job yet and am dependent on Sarah to drive me around when she is off of work. There are no train stations. So, I have a lot of time to reflect while we search for apartments in the city during Sarah’s time off.

No doubt the countryside is beautiful. Here is the view from the guestroom window:

Here is the view just down the road:

A fresh start in Duetschland

Mothers are neurotic. I’m not sure if this is a hormone that is activated once a woman has a child or if it is the result of what most kids put their mothers through during adolescence, but the level of neurotic-ism I’ve observed from the average mother is enough to deter me from procreation for at least a few years.

And of course this inherent motherly nature became apparent when I told her I was going overseas to live in Germany. Before I left the states each day my mother would share one of her worries about me living abroad. While many of her concerns were quite valid, others were pretty funny. So, I would like to list her concerns and see how many of them manifest while I am overseas. Hopefully, I can achieve this task without alienating my mother from reading my blog, and with the understanding that she loves me and only wants the best for me.

A list of my mother’s concerns about living in Germany:

1) You’ll be sold into the German sex trade industry.

Human trafficking is a problem, but movies like Taken have blown it way out of proportion. As we all know, American girls that visit Europe are immediately grabbed by the first charming European man they meet and sold for big bucks into the porn industry—especially if they are virgins with blond hair…

2) You’ll join the air force.

An unlikely story.

3)      You’ll marry an air force man.

4)      You’ll marry a German and never come home.

Right, so, one of my mother’s concerns is that I may meet someone.

5)      A direct quote: “If someone came up to you and offered you $15,000 to grab your boobies what would you do?”

I think there’s a pretty obvious answer to this question.

6)      You’ll get robbed.

This is a legitimate concern. My cousin, who is a large male, was robbed overseas. Hopefully, I will not be writing a blog entry about getting robbed.

7)      Germans drink too much.

And American twenty-somethings don’t?

8)      It’s cold!

Yes, it is, and as a desert child I am concerned about the cold as well.

9)      Well, if you’re going to go, and I can’t talk you out of it send me one of those German cuckoo clocks.

Is this what you become interested in as you age?! Okay, I’ll send one.

So, as this adventure starts these are the concerns I’m going to keep in mind and will see how they play out in Deutschland.