A house, a home, or a place where I live?

I have decided that this “blog” will be less about what I am doing, and more about my thoughts on things I see and do. This will make it less mundane for me, and will give you a window into the black abyss that is my mind. DO NOT BE ALARMED! There will be recaps of what I’m doing, ect. just as information, and so I can remember everything, but I refuse to let this become more boring than it already is.

To the subject of this post:

I have now been living in my new… place of residence… for five days, and am not sure what I think of it. Even if I am referring in passing, what is this new place called? My house? Certainly not “home.” Home is thousands of miles away. Even Google Maps, the knower of all things directional, can’t tell me how to get there. I have decided that it is this which makes my semester so incredible. To be living so removed from all I have ever known that carrying on as I did before is an impossibility. Fantastic! All my life I have lived in an average size house in the disgusting suburban sprawl of Dallas’s ever expanding waistline:

My thoughts on suburbia in the US are a post unto itself, but in short:

The wasteful inefficiency of what is considered the American “norm” is sucking the lifeblood out of those who live in it. The ownership of a 1/4 acre of Bermuda grass (or St. Augustine if you so choose), and a 1500-4000 square foot stick-frame house is nothing but a show of carelessness. This is not to say that I don’t see the personal benefits of such a life. Home ownership is a good thing, creating strong credit, and net worth, and raising children in a “safe”and “quiet” suburban town seems like a great idea, but what are you missing out on? I have, in recent years, developed an intent to live in a dense urban area as soon as possible. I hope to live in a small, modern apartment located near my place of employment. I have no need for 4 bedrooms and 3.5 baths, or a 1/4 acre of grass just big enough to be useless as an outdoor space. I hope to be connected to the street, the people, and the world around me. This is living.

The point:

I am residing in a house that is large by German standards. Three floors of thoroughly efficient space with a fantastic spiral stair connecting it all. It is attached to the houses next to it on both sides, and in place of a “yard” has a small fruit and vegetable garden from which I have eaten every day. To get to school I walk, ride two trams, and then walk some more; something I would have thought to be terrible. Having left my preconceived notions in College Station, I have found this to not only be a great way to start the day, but a source of entertainment, as there are always interesting people to see. Walking in the cold with layers of cotton and polyester warmth, and music blasting in my earphones has brought nothing but joy on a daily basis. Commuting is not a chore as it is in my own car, it is an immersive cultural experience filled with ever changing sights and sounds (and sometimes smells, but that is a different topic).

Based on watching my host family, living in the city is not a hindrance on family growth, but an opportunity. They resemble every family I have ever known, so I will take this part of the post to fill you in on them.

1. The father, Uwe, is jovial, to say the least. His English is decent, not perfect, but we can communicate.
2. The mother, Maria, is kind, and a good cook. I have eaten some things I would never have at home, but this seems to be the best opportunity to be culinarily (I just made up that word) open minded. My dinners have included:
   1. Lasagna with spinach and mushrooms – fantastic.
   2. A creamy soup with onions, potatoes, some other vegetable I couldn’t put my finger on, and hard boiled egg – sounded awful, tasted good.
   3. Meat balls, semi-mashed potatoes, and “red cabbage.” Dessert: grits, but not watery-ish like ours. They were fluffy, almost whipped, with raspberry sauce (fresh from the garden) on top. – awesome.
3. The youngest daughter, Daria, is maybe 14-15-ish? She speaks English well, but is quiet. She says I look like “…the boy from…what is it?… O.C. California”
4. The next daughter, Miriam, I have only seen once. She just got back from Australia.
5. The third daughter, Nicole, lives here in town, but I have never met her.
6. The oldest daughter, Yvonne, is married, and is Jacob’s host mom. Haha.

What I have been doing:

Last week consisted of touring the city (see facebook for pictures), and a “cultural studies” class, which was really just us discussing our first few days’ experiences, and adapting to cultural differences. This included a rather depressing video by a past film student about culture shock and the emotional swings of living in a new place. It put things in perspective. Tomorrow starts real course work. We have also purchased tickets for all of our weekend travel. Digital money makes spending so much less painful. We bought train tickets to Paris in two weeks, plane tickets to Italy over spring break, and Spain over Easter. I’m excited. From what I can tell, the only Western European nations I will not have seen by the time I leave are Ireland and Wales. Odd, considering the UK tends to be the first place American tourists flock to.

This is all for today.