the online journal of jordan e.: november 2002

onsdag, november 27, 2002

Today I felt like a real European. I had to do a little shopping for Martha's jazz party and was therefore walking to the Strassenbahn with a baquette under my arm. If you ever have the longing to feel European, I urge you - go out and buy yourself a loaf of crusty bread and carry it around for awhile in public. Before you know it, you'll be a fan of Bjork and showering only once a week.
**Take no offense now, fellow Europeans. For the most part you all do shower quite regularly and you'd rather listen to Die Toten Hosen (right?).

(November 25, 2002)
What a wonderful weekend! Alexa and I left for Hamburg on Friday morning and arrived in the beautiful harbor city at 2:00pm. After Alexa met up with her parents who live there, we took the car and went to Alexa's Oma's for coffee, pflaumkuchen, tirimisu, cookies, juice... Her grandma was so sweet and quite crafty! She has made hundreds of miniture models of houses and furniture, down to little vests and skirts hanging in the mini wooden closets. From there we went to the Christian Buchhandlung, where I purchased my very own Bibel auf Deutsch and a Vineyard cd. We also made it to "Dom," the big winter amusement park in town and rode the 'uge rollarcoaster.
When we got home we crept up to the third floor - the one with steep and slippery stairs - to comfy beds with down quilts. The following morning, as I headed down to the shower, I fell down that entire flight of steep and slippery stairs. The first thing I heard as I struggled to my feet was Alexa's dad asking (in German), "Is she dead?" I am alive, Mr. Thiele (put a notch on the wall for surviving yet another wipe-out).
After confirming that my joints would still bend in the right directions, Alexa and I went into the city to do a little shopping. Though covered in fog, the city was still beautiful, as it has already been draped in twinkling lights and pine branches. While Alexa fought the bustling crowd in search for some pants, I bought a Swatch watch, the ultimate in Swiss time-telling technology.
When we got back, I met Alexa's cousin, Nina, and Alexa's mom cooked us up some Kartoffelnpuffer (potato pancakes) with sour cream, onion and lachs. The first one tasted pretty good, but the second one started making my stomach churn. So I had to plea a state of absolute stuffedness inorder to get rid of the third that was already on my plate.
After sup-sup we took the car and cruised to the Freie Evangelische Geminde Holstenwall (a church in Hamburg) for a Rebecca St.James concert. (Charmaine and Fusebox played with her.) The concert was very good and it was especially encouraging to see all of the Germans enthusiastic about God. The small venue made the show very personal too, as there were only a couple hundred there and the band just played on the alter area.
Toward the end Rebecca shared the Gospel with the help of a translater and asked people to come forward who wanted to know Jesus, get serious about their faith or wanted to offer their gifts and talents to God. Alexa and I joined the group. She offered her life as a professional missionary and I offered my biggest struggle: desire for approval from people. After the concert, people came out to pray with us. It was a very good experience, one that refreshed me spiritually. I always hate leaving those things, as it is so hard to pull yourself away from an atmosphere where you can almost touch God's love.
But alas, we had to go. We took a little driving tour of Hamburg before home, though. We saw the million dollar homes, the city hall, the piers and more. We also went through the notorious Reeperbahn Strasse - the street of strip clubs, sex shops and legal prostitutes. It has been that way for hundreds of years for the sailors arriving into the harbor. It made me so sad to see those ladies standing there like pieces of meat. I wanted so badly to tell them that if they want it, there is real love for them - love so great and big that sometimes you can't take it all in. Love so transforming that your internal compass becomes recoordinated, pointing you to a new life full of goodness and hallelujah.
We finally went home, though and had a little Bible study of our own and did some praying. The next morning after a bit of toast and tea, we went to church and then to the Hamburg Dungeon for a "haunted" historical tour of Hamburg. It was actually very interesting to learn about the Bubonic plague, the tyrant Vikings and the Inquisition even if it was kind of "tales of the cryptish."
After Alexa's mom finished telling her that their home is no hotel with room service so she better not treat it that way (yikes, yikes!) she drove us to the train station to begin our seven hour trip home. We did a little Bible reading, a little yakking witht the other passengers and each presented a couple of lessons in phonetics. Before we knew it, we were back in Jena waiting for tram numbers 15 and 31 to take her to Zwätzen and me to Lobeda West.

tisdag, november 19, 2002

Ochen horasho! Tonight Corey and I went for a walk. As we strolled through the greater part of Lobeda West, we suddenly heard Russian music coming from a classroom window in the community Volkhochschule. With visions of babushkas tapping tamborines, we decided to investigate the minor-keyed melodies. We found our way into the building, climbed stairs and navigated through hallways until there was just a door between us and the sweet russky tunes. Corey and I took turns peering through the keyhole and then devised a plan to knock and politely ask if we could listen. We waited until the accordian breathed the final chord of some song and made our move.
They had a tough time understanding us, as they can't really understand German, but when they realized that we weren't part of the group who hangs out in front of Kaufland (and incidentally hate Russian immigrants), they warmly welcomed us in and told us that there were extra instruments to play if we so desired. Instead, we sat and listened to the group consisting of an older man who played some mean Russian spoons, an old lady, three middle-aged women who took turns with the tamborine, a younger girl who beat an empty accordian case with a mallet, a man on an accordian and another man smacking two drum sticks. Together they sang Russian oldies and occasionally danced, bickered about lyrics and laughed about things.
Because they had a little audience, I think they made the rehearsal especially impressive (they did, after all, play "Jingle Bells" for their "americkanische Freunde"). The accordian player turned it up a couple of notches, too. Everynow and then he would add an extemporaneous jazz lick and then would turn to us to see our reaction. I wasn't sure if giving the "thumbs up" or a brief applause would be the appropriate response, so I settled with smiling continually.
At the end they all joined up and threw together, for our sake, some American song that I couldn't recognize. The old man flew off the handle with the spoons and began tapping syncopated rhythms on his knees, hands and belly between samples of traditional Russian dancing, which included "shimmying."
When the session ended, they invited us back and told us to bring a friend who can play either the banjo or the guitar. And you know what? We are coming back. That was so interesting - what an intriguing perspective on their culture. I think it's so cool that they haven't let traditions like that die. And besides, Corey told them in Russian, "I like your music," which I think officially earned him grandson status with the old lady. Maybe next time I'll tell them that I was the mastermind behind that sentence. Or maybe I won't. Either way, just hearing the language will definitely help my russky.

måndag, november 18, 2002

The weekend has again passed and it is another Monday, which means I have Russian. While most days I am very nervous for that class, as it is so tough translating the Russian into German, I now have the "ins" since Professor Runge found out our dog back home is named Wolfgang. Twice now she has asked me to tell the class about the dog with the German name. I need to take note of this...if there is ever a circumstance when she is unhappy with me I will just have to say, "Please Professor Runge, for the sake of Wolfgang, could we please forget about this?"
Among other discoveries, I found out a little about German laundry etiquette this weekend. When I headed down to the laundry room on Saturday I found a washer that had finished its cycle, but still had someone's clothes in it. Not sure if the person would come for their delicate whites in five minutes or three hours, I took the load out and set it on top of the machine. As I proceeded to fill the washer with my clothes, the guy came down for his. I immediately smiled and asked him very nicely, "Ist das okay?" He, however, didn't smile. He only said, "Nein, das ist nicht okay." Then in English he said, "Because it's fresh." After I apologized he added, "Please don't make it again." Another note to self: when it's fresh, don't make it again.

torsdag, november 14, 2002

My poor organizational habits haven't improved much since I arrived here. Just today did I remember to go back to the Ausländerbehörde, the office which makes our stay here legal. I had been there once awhile ago, but was given a temporary pass and told to return with a valid studentin Ausweis (student ID), my bank account information and 40€....by October 31st. (I've kept a low cover these past few days in hopes of deterring any attempts to deport me.) But today I took care of it. They even cut into their two hour lunch break (two hour?!?!) to help me.
Speaking of strange office hours, what's the deal with the guys who hang out in front of Kaufland all day? Do they not have jobs? These guys are the resident skinheads who congregate daily in front of our "echt billig" shopping complex, Kaufland. The ones who are serious Nazis sport black army boots with white laces with their pants fashionably tucked in them. Each find their respective place in front of the electric doors and drink insanely large cans of beer all day. When they get to the very last sips of their Köstritser or Bibop, a representative from the group is sent to go in and retrieve more gargantuan cans of brew. I think for the most part they are harmless, though they sometimes have fights among themselves and often make comments at you when you are entering or exiting the great Kaufland.
A couple of nights ago I attended a book reading by Vladimir Kaminer, a Russian who has written some books about his travels (all in German). As he read about his traveling escapades, the Germans listening were nearly splitting a gut. How I wished I would have understood what was so stinking funny...time to start getting more acquainted with my dictionary.

onsdag, november 13, 2002

(November 11, 2002)
Fisherman's Fans! What an interesting experience. They played at church (the Evangelische-Frei Gemeinde) on Friday. They (3 guys my age) performed original worship tunes in German (except when they sang Third Day's "Nothing Compares"). One chorus is still in my head, "Er sei immer, er sei immer da!" (I think that was it...it means, "He is always, He is always there.") Very cool!
Things are getting a little crazier, a little more exciting and a little more suspenseful. Being a Christian is no kiddie ride. It's most definitely the Corkscrew and I will ever be the annoying kid who keeps returning to the line for more loopedy-loops, dips and curves.

(November 7, 2002)
There's nothing like a dinner of pelmeny (yes Kelly Hickey, mmm, pelmeny) and a night at the theater.
We all went to "Rasputin" for some delicioso Russian cuisine tonight and then to Theaterhaus Jena to see "Helges Leben." The pelmeny I had to eat brought me right back to Chelyabinsk, wearing high-water pants and frolicking around Western Siberia with Kelly. Kelly still has the hookup to go back...my host family moved to Israel.
Anyhow, after a satisfying supper a few of us went to see the play, which was about a potential future state of the world where humans have disappeared, animals reign and God (an organ playing drag-queen) and Death (a greasy Wayne Newton) are in control. God and Death put on reality soap operas for the animals about the life of a man named Helge. I thought it was all very creatively done and especially liked the times when Death came down into the soap opera to serenade us with tunes like "Blue Velvet." One time he even threw one of those fire-cracker snapping things on the ground and winked into the audience (I think he learned that trick from Jonah!).

måndag, november 11, 2002

(November 4, 2002)
What was I thinking in Russian class the other day? Professor Runge was going around the room asking, "Shto tey loobish?" (What do you like?) Other students responded with things like, "Ya loobloo o kultoorna gavareet," or "Ya loobloo filozofooyoo." (I like to talk about culture. I like philosophy.) Then she gets to me. What's the only thing I can think of?? That's right, baseball. So I tell the class - the class that enjoys philosophy and culture - that I really like baseball (which I really don't that much). Immediately upon saying this I freeze as I realize that follow-up questions may proceed. I begin to quiz myself - who just won the World Series? What team did Babe Ruth play for? How many innings are in a minor league baseball game with overtime? I was lucky, however, as the rest of the übung passed with no more attention paid to my so-called "obsession" with the boys of summer. Today, though, she asked me what sport I play. I knew what she was thinking, so tricky me said I was a volleyball player (another outright lie). Before anyone could even digest my response, she said, "But you also play baseball, right?"
Besides classes and Bible studies and social stuff, I think I should get a job. Martha has already hired me to do some occasional cleaning in her house, but I would also kind of like a real job. I could of course use the extra money, but I think the experience alone would be pretty cool. There are even two cafes in town, Bohéme and Stilbruch, that are now hiring waitresses. Then again, if someone were to ask for a side of mayonaise I would be stumped. But still, maybe...

(November 1, 2002)
The U2 cover band concert at the Irish Pub was great, though the Guiness was not especially tasty. I think I need to go to that place more often, though. It makes me want to use words like, "wee" and "laddie" and "blarney."

(October 30, 2002)
Elbow, elbow, wrist, wrist.
That's right, I've finally made it as a beauty queen - Miss America, in fact. Okay, so it was just for the costume party tonight, but my get-up was good enough to win the unofficial contest. Meagan did my hair ala deep-south-beauty-school style (think hairsprayed, voluminous beaufont) and topped it with a crown crafted from aluminum foil. O wore Amber's ruffly ble dress, black and orange tights and lots of blue eyeshadow. Good times.
The other Americans went as "colors." Meagan, for instance, was "charcoal," though I definitely thought she looked more like an "ash grey."
Besides the partay, I've been busy with classes and lots of God-related things (Bible studies, meetings, church, etc). I am also battling a strain of some wicked, German cold. Now I know why the Germans wear scarves and warm jackets when it's 60 degrees outside - they don't want their respiratory system to go to crap and cough uncontrollably when their Russian professor asks them to conjugate the verb nucamb. Not to mention, they probably don't look forward to their noses being rubbed raw by the slim tissue selection here. One can't use the old standby, toilet paper, as it seems they have recycled particle board to make it. Oh, how I miss those lush Kleenexes we have in the states...
Classes have been going very well. The one class I was worried about, Landeskunde Österreich (the geography of Austria), will be fine, I think. Although it's a seminar (meaning we have to give presentations in German to the class) the professor is very nice and helpful. Unfortunately, though, Dr. Bettermann was a victim to some terrible dental coverage and doesn't clip his fingernails as often as he should. Now I know these details are very superficial and should be easy to ignore, but when he uses the overhead projector I am constantly faced with a giant silohette of his unclipped claws. Boogedy.

(October 23, 2002)
Praise the Lord for the people He has provided me here! On Monday Martha had a big Matthew party with tons of good food and interesting people (one girl's hair even caught fire!!). Then Stefan and I went for a walk and did some praying. I never would've guessed that I would be doing these kind of things here. God is so darn good.
His goodness is, in fact, overwhelming. Out of all of the people in this world that are blessed to feel His presence, why am I one? I am so unworthy! Billy Graham deserves to be embraced by the Spirit. Mother Theresa was a likely candidate to feel His love. But me, Jordan Shermer, the little Minnesotan college student who enjoys Homer Simpson, eating toasted almond fudge ice cream and sleeping until 10:00am (or so...), how is it that I should get a piece of His love? I'm a nobody! Yet the God of the universe extends himself to little me, continually wrapping me up with his hope, joy and comfort until I begin to tingle with His goodness. It's unbelievable to me that I am allowed to feel that. I just thank the Lord that I do.

(October 20, 2002)
Another weekend has gone and tomorrow classes officially begin (yikes!). Yesterday Heidi, Sarah, Meagan and I hiked up a small mountain/big hill to a point that looks over the entire city of Jena. Though it was a bit cold, it was definitely beautiful. Half way down the thousands of steps, however, we came upon a fenced in yard with a very timid-looking St. Bernard lounging in the lawn. I proceeded to peek one of my eyeballs through a crack in the very thin, wooden fence. Just as I began to obnoxiously inform everyone that it looked just like that famed movie dog, "Beethoven," Meagan began making barking noises in hope of scaring me. Though I remained calm, it fired up Beethoven's evil twin who then lunged at the fence barking a mean, low bark. (Remember now, my eyeball was still firmly planted in this flimsy fence, so all action was magnified.) I, therefore, did a little Fred Flinstone dance with my feet and then booked it for the steps, letting out a genuine squeal. It's pretty funny in retrospect, but at the time, I thought I was going to lose a limb to that beast.
What I may have saved in medical bills by running for the hills,however, I had to fork over to the locksmith later that night. When I went to Meagan's to use her phone I forgot my keys in my room and had no roomies or Verwaltung to let me in. I went to Lisa's roommate for help, who called locksmiths for me. While the first two businesses wanted 90€ ($90) for the job, she was able to find one asking for 50€ (which is still terrible) and she even lent me the money which had to be paid on the spot. (So nice of her!) When the locksmith finally came, Meagan hung out on the landing above my door to quietly survey the work. He told me that he needed proof that I lived there and that I should call a friend or something to verify it. He was, I'm sure, expecting me to dial a cellphone, but instead I turned around and called Meagan to come down the stairs. She then seemingly appeared from nowhere to say, "Ja, sie wohnt da. Gute Nacht." (Yep, she lives there. Good night.) It was funny, but the bill most definitely was not.

fredag, november 08, 2002

(October 18, 2002)
Oy. Today was the day of language placement testing. First we had a written portion, concentrating on some pretty difficult grammer concepts and a compostion. Later in the day there was an oral part - that is when disaster struck. Alright, I know that I speak pretty poorly, but my verbal comprehension has really improved and my writing isn't too shabby either. However, this "mundliche Prüfung" was much worse than I anything I had imagined I would have to muck through with my crappy speaking skills.
I'll set the stage for you: an average classroom in the Uni-Haupt Gebäude, three students and three adult instructors. Act 1: Dirk Skirba, the apparent leader of the pack, turns to the girl on my left first, asking her to describe her daily routine in Germany. She does so with stunning adjective endings and generally good word order (good for her). He moves to Valentina (from south Italy) next and asks her to tell a little about Jena. She then responds with details about the university, social life and the botanical gardens (also well done). Before he turns to me he reviews my application and thinks to himself, "She studies Russian?" My first question, therefore, is "Why do you study Russian?" This I can handle, so offer my explanation. Question 2: "What are Russian people like?" Questions 3 & 4: "Can you explain the differences between Russian and German culture?" "What are the differences between the Russian and German languages?" I spit out what I can while I flip through the vocab. files in my head, searching for words like "noun declension" and "verb conjugation." Finally, I come to a sad halt and take a breath. Mr. Skirba is not finished, however. He then says, "Ich finde Amerika so komisch. Bitte kannst du amerkanische Politik eklären? Und was macht George Bush in Iraq?" He asked what I thought were untouchables -- he asked me to explain American politics and what George Bush is doing in Iraq. Heart attack! Heart attack! So I say the first thing that comes to my mind, "Ich kann das nicht auf English erklären!" (I can't explain that in English!) It's obvious that Dirk is not impressed, so I activate Plan B; I try to explain that America is a big country with a range of political views and mixed support for the current governemental leaders - a basic democracy. Then I decide to be cheeky and ask, "Warum finden Sie Amerika so komisch?" (Why do you think America is so strange?) Had I known that for the last ten years he had probably been waiting for some innocent American girl to ask him that, I wouldn't have opened my big mouth. But instead, I get to hear Dirk Skirba spout: "America has strange fundamentalists, you don't address enough environmental concerns, you have the Bible Belt, you are involved in the business of too many other countries, etc." When he finsishes he looks at me. I blink a couple of times and say, "Ja." End of scene.
It's really no wonder then that I got placed in Group 4 (the lowest level) eventhough I almost rated into Group 2 with my written score. Crud buckets.

the online journal of jordan e.