Just a quick message to say that the place where I'm living will be getting a wonderful new glass fibre internet link, but because that's cooler and more complicated than the thing we were originally going to be getting, access to the internet in our rooms has been delayed. Probably until some time in September. So I'll probably continue to be slow to receive and reply to things, and this website will never be the beautiful thing with pictures and animations and song and dance that it would have been if only it had been allowed to be.
In other news, I noticed yesterday that my neighbour's rock-growing cloche has now been smashed into pieces and the rock is now exposed to sun and wind and rain. From what I've learned about German relationships (primarily from ARD daily soaps), it was most likely destroyed by his girlfriend in a fit of jealousy about how much time he was devoting to it.
My window blind continues to bravely stay up. I no longer move it, so my room is dark. But at least other students can't walk by and look at me whenever they want. If they do want to do that, they'll need to get that key that opens my door from that man whom I have never seen again.
Thursday, June 23, 2005
Monday, June 20, 2005
Neighbours
One day, one of my window blinds will fall to the ground with an earth-shattering crash.
I know this to be true. It is trying hard to stay up at the minute, but it is groaning and heaving so as to make its struggle clear. The blind of my neighbour has already fallen, and now lies crumpled and miserable on the ground.
I could talk to my neighbour about it and maybe he could help (or make it worse), but I don't talk to my neighbour at all about anything. I think I saw him once, and he gave me a look of what I interpreted to be hate because I was talking to someone who was probably his girlfriend. It's unfortunate, because I suspect he might be interesting. He plays loud spanish music and tapes that say, "Buenos Dias……. Guten Tag" and things like that for a long time, so I presume him to be fluent in one of those languages and quite bad at the other.
More than that, I think he is trying to grow a rock. There is a little broken-looking plastic thing outside his room which collects moisture for the thing inside it. But the only thing I can see inside is a rock. It's a pretty big rock, I suppose, so I guess it might be working. But it's still a rock.
I have also seen my neighbour on the other side throw tomatoes at dogs. I would like to talk to her about that some day too, but the opportunity has not arisen.
Both of them allow me to hear their Bon Jovi CDs, even when I don't really want to.
These things aren't really stories, are they? I just don't know what I'm supposed to write.
I know this to be true. It is trying hard to stay up at the minute, but it is groaning and heaving so as to make its struggle clear. The blind of my neighbour has already fallen, and now lies crumpled and miserable on the ground.
I could talk to my neighbour about it and maybe he could help (or make it worse), but I don't talk to my neighbour at all about anything. I think I saw him once, and he gave me a look of what I interpreted to be hate because I was talking to someone who was probably his girlfriend. It's unfortunate, because I suspect he might be interesting. He plays loud spanish music and tapes that say, "Buenos Dias……. Guten Tag" and things like that for a long time, so I presume him to be fluent in one of those languages and quite bad at the other.
More than that, I think he is trying to grow a rock. There is a little broken-looking plastic thing outside his room which collects moisture for the thing inside it. But the only thing I can see inside is a rock. It's a pretty big rock, I suppose, so I guess it might be working. But it's still a rock.
I have also seen my neighbour on the other side throw tomatoes at dogs. I would like to talk to her about that some day too, but the opportunity has not arisen.
Both of them allow me to hear their Bon Jovi CDs, even when I don't really want to.
These things aren't really stories, are they? I just don't know what I'm supposed to write.
Monday, June 13, 2005
Church
I went to church yesterday morning.
I was nervous about going, in case they would be friendly. Relentlessly friendly. Friendly in the most threatening and tiresome way. But they weren't.
I got through the time saying 4 words in total, to 4 different people. I should have said 5 words, but I think I missed one in my haste to say another one.
It seemed to be a very traditional sort of church, which wasn't quite in a traditional building (although it tried its best to look traditional for the occasion). Before the service began, the organist seemed to be tapping gently and noiselessly at some keys - as if he wasn't very good, and didn't want anyone to hear him make any mistakes.
But when the meeting started, he leapt into life with the enthusiasm of the Phantom himself. He started blasting out the sort of complex classical music where you think every few bars that it must surely have gone horribly wrong (and at least one of his hands is blindly smashing at the instrument), but he continued with such confidence and consistency that I decided that it must be how it's supposed to sound, and he was really incredibly good.
He continued to be good throughout the communal singing, although the congregation themselves weren't much good. There was a clear difference in ability between the organist and the rest of us, and he wasn't going to hold back for us and we weren't going to make any effort to keep up with him. Sometimes the words fitted, but mostly they didn't. If we ever happened to stop at the same time, it can purely have been coincidence.
We stayed seated for singing, but stood up for praying and the reading of the Parable of the Lost Sheep. We stayed seated for the Parable of the Lost Son, since I suppose that it is a less important story. Or else it's just a longer story, and they doubted we'd make it through standing up. Which is quite possible. The congregation was quite a wrinkly group of people.
The minister wore a long black gown, with little white bits poking out at the top, and spoke loudly but slowly. He also sang. Quite often and, as far as I was concerned, randomly. There were moments when he sang a line, and everyone else (who wasn't me) sang something back to him. Sometimes it was in the song book. Sometimes it didn't seem to be.
So that was church. There was none of that crazy and interesting German theology that I was hoping for, or at least I didn't really notice any. It was mostly just rather formal and normal. The sermon was looking at the story of the lost son from the father's point of view, but I had to really concentrate to understand anything and I kept realising that I had zoned out for the last while and so I only caught bits and pieces. So I think that's all I can really say about it, and I'll stop now.
I should probably say that it was, in its own way, rather nice. Though I'm not sure if I'll be back much.
I was nervous about going, in case they would be friendly. Relentlessly friendly. Friendly in the most threatening and tiresome way. But they weren't.
I got through the time saying 4 words in total, to 4 different people. I should have said 5 words, but I think I missed one in my haste to say another one.
It seemed to be a very traditional sort of church, which wasn't quite in a traditional building (although it tried its best to look traditional for the occasion). Before the service began, the organist seemed to be tapping gently and noiselessly at some keys - as if he wasn't very good, and didn't want anyone to hear him make any mistakes.
But when the meeting started, he leapt into life with the enthusiasm of the Phantom himself. He started blasting out the sort of complex classical music where you think every few bars that it must surely have gone horribly wrong (and at least one of his hands is blindly smashing at the instrument), but he continued with such confidence and consistency that I decided that it must be how it's supposed to sound, and he was really incredibly good.
He continued to be good throughout the communal singing, although the congregation themselves weren't much good. There was a clear difference in ability between the organist and the rest of us, and he wasn't going to hold back for us and we weren't going to make any effort to keep up with him. Sometimes the words fitted, but mostly they didn't. If we ever happened to stop at the same time, it can purely have been coincidence.
We stayed seated for singing, but stood up for praying and the reading of the Parable of the Lost Sheep. We stayed seated for the Parable of the Lost Son, since I suppose that it is a less important story. Or else it's just a longer story, and they doubted we'd make it through standing up. Which is quite possible. The congregation was quite a wrinkly group of people.
The minister wore a long black gown, with little white bits poking out at the top, and spoke loudly but slowly. He also sang. Quite often and, as far as I was concerned, randomly. There were moments when he sang a line, and everyone else (who wasn't me) sang something back to him. Sometimes it was in the song book. Sometimes it didn't seem to be.
So that was church. There was none of that crazy and interesting German theology that I was hoping for, or at least I didn't really notice any. It was mostly just rather formal and normal. The sermon was looking at the story of the lost son from the father's point of view, but I had to really concentrate to understand anything and I kept realising that I had zoned out for the last while and so I only caught bits and pieces. So I think that's all I can really say about it, and I'll stop now.
I should probably say that it was, in its own way, rather nice. Though I'm not sure if I'll be back much.
Friday, June 10, 2005
Garching
Garching by day.
Garching by night. A very pretty place. Although an ill-conceived picture.
The Little Restaurant vs. The Zepplin
Garching by night. A very pretty place. Although an ill-conceived picture.
The Little Restaurant vs. The Zepplin
Thursday, June 09, 2005
At least he had a friendly sort of face
Yeah... I'm not very good at updating this.
Sorry, yes, erm, not much to say really. Days aren't normally so very different from one another, except for how much coffee gets drunk or what shape the meat is at lunch time or what flavour or crisps I have accidently bought (most recently it was "hungarian" flavour... which is like very watery smokey bacon, if you're interested).
I got myself a TV card so now I can watch german programmes. I saw less than a minute of one soap, but already a man had got a threatening email and turned around to point a gun in the face of a shocked (and then angry) looking woman. I think she was maybe his wife. So I think I'll have to make a point of seeing that one, except I can't remember on which of the identical-looking channels it was on. There are also many american programmes that I recognise, with characters whose voices don't quite fit them.
I'm living on a sort of building site so there are people and machines around all the time. Except the evening, when it is just machines and students. But it's quite alright like that.
Apart from that, the main excitement was this morning. I was lying in bed, wondering whether to get up or not - if I get up and get breakfast then I can start things, but if I don't get up then I get to not have to start things. Then the doorbell rang. I think the doorbell has only ever been rung 4 times since I moved in, and one of them was by accident. So I never expect it. My mind thought that it might be the Hausmeisterin to tell me that the rent didn't come out of my account properly this month (or something bad like that), or else some man who was going to tell me that the internet works now (or something good like that). I knew the Hausmeisterin had a key to get it, which is why I cunningly leave my keys in the door every night.
I got up and put trousers on just in time to see my keys turning around in the lock all by themselves. I managed to be standing in front of the door when it opened to reveal a large German man whom I'd never seen before. HE had the audacity to look surprised. I was quite sure he had no right, and while I was still wearing my T-shirt with "relaxed" on it, I wasn't particularly.
Anyway, he excused himself and I haven't seen him since. He said something about it being a "middle apartment" and then "sorry".
So anyway. I don't know what all that was about.
Sorry, yes, erm, not much to say really. Days aren't normally so very different from one another, except for how much coffee gets drunk or what shape the meat is at lunch time or what flavour or crisps I have accidently bought (most recently it was "hungarian" flavour... which is like very watery smokey bacon, if you're interested).
I got myself a TV card so now I can watch german programmes. I saw less than a minute of one soap, but already a man had got a threatening email and turned around to point a gun in the face of a shocked (and then angry) looking woman. I think she was maybe his wife. So I think I'll have to make a point of seeing that one, except I can't remember on which of the identical-looking channels it was on. There are also many american programmes that I recognise, with characters whose voices don't quite fit them.
I'm living on a sort of building site so there are people and machines around all the time. Except the evening, when it is just machines and students. But it's quite alright like that.
Apart from that, the main excitement was this morning. I was lying in bed, wondering whether to get up or not - if I get up and get breakfast then I can start things, but if I don't get up then I get to not have to start things. Then the doorbell rang. I think the doorbell has only ever been rung 4 times since I moved in, and one of them was by accident. So I never expect it. My mind thought that it might be the Hausmeisterin to tell me that the rent didn't come out of my account properly this month (or something bad like that), or else some man who was going to tell me that the internet works now (or something good like that). I knew the Hausmeisterin had a key to get it, which is why I cunningly leave my keys in the door every night.
I got up and put trousers on just in time to see my keys turning around in the lock all by themselves. I managed to be standing in front of the door when it opened to reveal a large German man whom I'd never seen before. HE had the audacity to look surprised. I was quite sure he had no right, and while I was still wearing my T-shirt with "relaxed" on it, I wasn't particularly.
Anyway, he excused himself and I haven't seen him since. He said something about it being a "middle apartment" and then "sorry".
So anyway. I don't know what all that was about.
Saturday, June 04, 2005
Friday, June 03, 2005
Exceptions
This language is even harder than I had thought.
Up until now, I had been fooling myself by reading basic grammar books. Everything looked quite straightforward - difficult to remember and use, but at least sensible. But a few days ago, I started getting into my intermediate/advanced book. And it would appear there are exceptions to every rule. Including many rules which I didn't know existed: and so it is now hard to get enough enthusiasm to learn a rule when I know that it isn't really a rule, and the only time when I have heard that exists is when I was reading about when it doesn't apply.
Thinking about this this morning, I really do not understand how other people - and even children - could possibly speak this language comfortably. Every sentence must surely be a desperate struggle. To make matters worse, I heard a woman instructing her dog in German. It just so happened that I also understood that she was asking the dog to "come", but the seed of thought was sown. It is quite certain that in this country there are animals that understand the language better than I do.
Up until now, I had been fooling myself by reading basic grammar books. Everything looked quite straightforward - difficult to remember and use, but at least sensible. But a few days ago, I started getting into my intermediate/advanced book. And it would appear there are exceptions to every rule. Including many rules which I didn't know existed: and so it is now hard to get enough enthusiasm to learn a rule when I know that it isn't really a rule, and the only time when I have heard that exists is when I was reading about when it doesn't apply.
Thinking about this this morning, I really do not understand how other people - and even children - could possibly speak this language comfortably. Every sentence must surely be a desperate struggle. To make matters worse, I heard a woman instructing her dog in German. It just so happened that I also understood that she was asking the dog to "come", but the seed of thought was sown. It is quite certain that in this country there are animals that understand the language better than I do.
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