That evening, during an awards ceremony that prefaced a fantastic show of improv theatre and blues music, I found out that I was named NCHC Student of the Year. I’m told my face was unreadable when my name was announced–that’s because it was practically bloodless from shock.  Even after the chance to let it settle in for a few days, that fact still feels distant, as though it’s one of those disposable nametags that keep falling off of your shirt. Now, I’m used to going on wonderful, inspiring trips, then coming home to a world that is surreally distant from my experiences. Trying to relate conversations and experiences to people who haven’t seen them falls flat. I end up with a few days of secret bliss of which everyone around me is oblivious.

Except this time, the glee didn’t stay in Kansas City. Over the past few days, I’ve been overwhelmed with wonderful comments and congratulations from both those I know only in passing and those who I consider my closest friends. One of my professors from my second semester said the award was a gift to her as a faculty member, a reassurance that the educators at this school are on the right track. I’m used to private victories, but this award just keeps rippling out in a way that shows me how much people–trite as it sounds–care.

Perhaps that should be cared. Part of being nominated for the award is writing reflections and including a resume of your experiences. The process of reflecting on my involvement for the purpose of this application forced me to pause from my to-do lists and make some observations about another kind of list, the list of my activities in college to this date. It was a long list. I had no idea it would turn out quite so long, and even now I’m remembering things that I forgot to include. It’s a list of organizations, conferences, grants, projects, a little blurb about how I like international things and want to build bridges of communication. It’s three years, summarized neatly on two sheets of paper.

But what I noticed as I read through my application was that for each bullet point, I could think of story behind it. And what sends pleasant little shivers up my spine that tingle down and give me goosebumps on my arms is that for each story, I could picture an individual responsible for the opening line.

There are so many opening lines, so many people who cared about my development and took the time to put pieces together, to notice my interests and present me with opportunities to develop them. The art history professor who bent over backwards to get me to Germany; the philosophy professor who told me to submit my work to a national competition; the Honors Student Association chairs who gave me functions to organize; the students who emailed me asking if I’d be interested in another conference. From my dad, who first found emailed me a link to this college’s website, to the amazing friend who listened to my frustrated attempts to write the application for this award, I’ve been surrounded by people who decided I was worth investing in. 

I’m reminded once again that it is silly to tout our own accomplishments, because they’re never really our own. I can summarize my accomplishments and accolades on two pieces of paper that don’t even take up physical space because they are a PDF file. What I hope I never stop considering are the people who line my proverbial life and the myriad of ways in which they have blessed me with their care and involvement. Thank you for making my life extraordinary.

Berlin sinks all too easily into the tapestry-like folds of her appearance, the layers of buildings and bridges falling to form an embroidered cloak of finesse and culture. Walking between facades, running a hand over scrolled metalwork, it becomes easy to mistake this rich visual feast for Berlin herself. Looking closer, however, reveals a hidden thread that builds unity beyond mere beautiful physical appearance. Wherever you walk in Berlin, whatever you see, you are never far from the divided city of two decades ago. Pierce through enough layers and you will find the bitter strand reemerge against the texture of Berlin’s cultural heritage.

Even while walking through the ancient treasures on display at Museum Island, we stayed near this defining characteristic that adds strange color to Berlin. Nearly seventy percent of the buildings on the island were destroyed or damaged during World War II, and the collections themselves remained scattered long after. It wasn’t until 1995 that these collections–split between East and West Germany–were united again. In 1999, a massive restoration project began on the island’s buildings, which explained the network of scaffolding around the museums during my visit last year. On this visit, we spent most of our time at the Pergamon, with a few from our group ducking into the Neues Museum to catch a glimpse of Nefertiti. I loved seeing the Pergamon altar again, but I also took more time discovering gorgeous work in the Islamic art wing. Quite extraordinary stuff!

Sunlit morning in our hostel room

Walking to the Pergamon

Marycruz, Michelle, and Jennifer–all thrilled about our museum trip

Athena, from the side of the Pergamon altar

Greek vase

We found the Stele of Hammurabi!

Side of the Ishtar Gate

Ivory box

Tile prayer niche

Translucent vases covered in Arabic script

Yours truly looking at the amazing gates of Mshatta

How can you spot a tourist in Europe?

Aside from the usual cues–backpacks, jeans, and tennis shoes–the surest way of finding yourself a tourist is to wait by a notable site and watch for any large groups that stop to listen to a tour guide and/or take pictures.

No one wants to be classified as a “tourist” when they travel. The term conjures up grating connotations of cultural illiteracy and insensitivity, not to mention logistical incompetence. Nor do we want to see our independence shrink by the constricting influence of group activities.

After traveling in groups ranging in number from three to thirty, I wasn’t too excited about spending ten days with eleven other people doing everything together. I thought that being one of a dozen travelers moving as a unit–taking buses, walking, eating, sleeping–would be mentally exhausting and emotionally taxing. I wanted my trip to Berlin to be full of rich personal experiences, not stymied by a locked schedule of tours and museums.

With those ten days long behind me, my fears seem a bit irrationally inflated. It is silly to think that the trip we envision is the only sort of adventure that will excite us. I’m very glad that my misgivings did not self-fulfill. Instead, coming cheaper by the dozen fused us together and led to times of good humor and challenging discussions.

Wednesday was our introduction to working as a group as well as to the city of Berlin. We took a planned five-hour walking tour–which actually took closer to seven hours to complete–along with a seasons guide. We took a lot of tours on this trip; Wednesday’s was the “variety pack” version. A little history, a little architecture, a little art, a little chocolate–all rolled up together and accompanied by teases of rain.

The breakfast spread at our hostel was amazing, and definitely our favorite part of waking up

We set off!

We saw lots of old buildings. Lots.

Berlin is noted for having buildings constructed around central courtyards, which creates places of quiet away from normal city noise

Synagogue

Door with character

Ze Ute

Railing of a bridge

Find big burgers here

Walking the streets

Various quotes about Berlin

Dr. Z was a great sport and put up with our photograph requests throughout the trip

We played “Find the Racist Stereotypes” on this Nazi-era postcard

Massive statue near an office building

A flag atop the Reichstag

Soviet War Memorial in the Tiergarten

A well-placed bench in the Tiergarten

The site that made the whole trip possible

Large drainage pipes run water away from buildings’ foundations and across the city

The Französischer Dom reflected in a nearby window

Crossing a canal on Bodenstraße

Berliner Dom

The quiet interior of one of Berlin’s many courtyards

Looking down on Rosenthaler Straße

]]> http://ednylein.wordpress.com/2010/08/20/12-mai-a-rather-longer-tour/feed/ 0 ednylein Durch Frühstück Commence Curtains Alley Star of David Knock Smile Rust It returns Arm, aber sexy So you say Snap Prejudice Rough Fly Dating Sit Field of stelae Drain Window view Reflect Together Look up Straßenlaterne http://ednylein.wordpress.com/2010/06/15/dortmund-15-juni-2010/ http://ednylein.wordpress.com/2010/06/15/dortmund-15-juni-2010/#comments Tue, 15 Jun 2010 09:45:59 +0000 ednylein http://ednylein.wordpress.com/?p=231 ]]> This long absence from posting is rather dismal, despite my assurance at the beginning of this trip on being able to post regularly about my adventures. Uploading pictures for posting takes well over an hour, just because of the internet connection, and I am loath to post about my travels without pictures to compliment my words. So, photos and narratives will wait until I get back to a more streamlined posting system at home.

While posts on my travels in Germany must wait, I can offer an update on how I have been spending the time kept open by not posting. I’ve spent the past three weeks in Dortmund, staying with a friend from the university. She very obligingly granted me my own key, which allows me to move about the city in a rather unscheduled manner. Compared to the last two semesters in the States, the past three weeks have been wonderfully unstressful. I’ve been sleeping for more than 8 hours a night, reading books not assigned for classes, and spending lots of time talking with my friends from last year. Spending time away from the busy chaos of student life is balancing my view of accomplishment and time well spent, reminding me that satisfaction with my day does not need to be based on the number of activities I manage to squeeze into it. Contentment based on unobjective standards, such as the length of my to-do list or the approval of others, can never be reached. There will always be something more to do.

So, if the absence of stress has stripped me of this crippling perspective on accomplishment, then my time spent in Scripture is beginning to grant me a new one. The part of this trip that gives me the most satisfaction is the amount of reading I’ve been able to do, especially in the Bible. It has certainly challenged me, identifying many ligaments that need to be strengthened, but has also encouraged me with a renewed understanding of what it means to be a Christian and saved by Christ. One predominate theme is that of inheritance, of a good future promised by God even before Christ came. I continue to return to Ephesians 1-2, where Paul describes God’s plan and the role of Christ in bringing salvation into the world. It concludes with this promise: “For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.”

When I stop using my schedule or my accomplishments to measure my worth, what am I left with? I am left with a promise that, if I earnestly seek after God with my whole being, that there are good works prepared for me to do. Even if my activities do not change, the satisfaction I derive from them no longer should depend on anything but the approval of God. Thankfully, that is a standard that will never change.

Perhaps that is too much verbage for a simple thought. However, this switch in thinking has not only taken a long time to stick in my head, but is massively relieving. When I left the States, for example, just three days after my last final, I never wanted to sit in class or write a paper again. The prospect of another stressful semester just exhausted me. Now, I find myself eager to think and learn, energized at the thought of class again. And that is a wonderful change.

In addition to catching up with friends, I’ve been able to upload pictures from Berlin and Nürnberg. Finally, I can go back and share the visual side of my time so far in Germany! As a musical Austrian likes to remind us, the beginning is a very good place to start, so here’s Day One in Berlin. Or rather, Day 0.5.

I arrived at the airport before the rest of the Columbia College group, so I bought a coffee and waited for them to arrive. After 14 odd hours of travel, it’s wonderful to spot familiar faces on the other side of customs!

Waiting for the rest of the group

We headed to our hostel, dropped off our bags, and decided to find a section of the Berlin Wall. Yes, we were fully conscious of how stereotypically we were behaving, but what else do you look for when you get to Berlin?

Berlin. Graffiti heaven.

Walking through the neighborhood surrounding the hostel

Corner market

How I remember Germany: small cars, bike lanes, bright apartments

A series of posters near the road we walked on

We didn’t find the Wall, but we did come across the Church of Reconciliation, a church that stood on the border between East and West Germany and was destroyed to build the Wall. After reunification, the pieces of the church were used in cement to make a chapel.

Inside the new chapel

Entryway

A small statue, with the same theme of reconciliation

A series of stones runs through all of Berlin to show where the Wall used to be. Occasionally there are plaques such as this one.

We found a bookstore, and Hope was quite excited

More graffiti

The intersection near our hostel

Our hostel lies in what was formerly East Berlin. Many of the surrounding buildings are only now being restored, such as this one.

Dr. Ute, Dr. Z and I went exploring and found an artistic community called Tacheles.

I would agree.

The grounds around Tacheles had workshops and artwork on display

Dr. Z over some well-earned dinner

After walking around for a bit, we returned to the hostel restaurant. Some of us ate a quiet dinner, others went for hot chocolate. Most of us were pretty exhausted from the combination of finals week and long travel, so we made it an early evening and went to sleep in anticipation of a six-hour tour in the morning.

Inside our hostel

Nürnberg is beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. Perhaps is the emergence of the sun, perhaps the sight of Germans wearing bright clothing instead of Berliner black, perhaps it’s the cobbled streets running past houses dating back over 700 years, but my visit to the city has given me great delight.

I’m here to study the Straße der Menschenrechte, a memorial consisting of a gate and 30 pillars, each of which has a summary of one of the 30 articles in the International Declaration of Human Rights.

I spent yesterday exploring the museums of Nürnberg, getting to know the history of this city and its accumulating stigmatization through the years. Nürnberg began as a city of trade and had a history as an imperial seat. Thus, when Hitler wanted a backdrop for his Nazi party rallies, he picked the city for its connections to the first Reich and its prominent place in German history. One of the museums described how the architecture of the rally grounds was meant to affect the individual psychologically. I walked around the absolutely massive Zeppelin Field, meant to shrink one’s individual worth and place one in a larger context, a larger body of action. Germans gathered together to become followers of a leader, or such was the intent of the rallies. Archival videos showed women in festive skirts and men in lederhosen. I wondered if they realized that the stones they danced upon were quarried and formed by the skeletal hands of concentration camp inmates, fellow human beings who had been deemed unvaluable in the eyes of the state.

But returning to the Altstadt, the old city, one sees little of this past. The city has hundreds of years of history and should not be judged for a period of time less than a century ago. I’ve gotten to see part of that history and will hopefully see a bit more before I head out tomorrow.

Right now, it’s nearing 9:00 on a Saturday evening in Nürnberg. This morning, I visited the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe one last time, walked back to my hostel to check out, and left Berlin on a train. During the four-hour journey, I got some sleep and reading taken care of–though not simultaneously–and met a German who married an Indian online and now lives in New York. She and I had a lovely conversation that covered such things as the reluctance of modern men to commit to marriage and the importance of shmoozing in corporate America.

When I arrived at my hotel in Nürnberg, I was baffled at first in trying to get the lights to turn on. I looked around, then saw a little slot on the wall with a tag that said ‘Room Key.’ When I stuck my key in the slot, the lights turned on, the TV started playing a screensaver of an aquarium, and I got a nice musical introduction to the hotel. I had to laugh a bit at how cute it all looked. After figuring this out, I took a stroll around town, bought some very expensive strawberries, and ate an absolutely delicious hazelnut Eis. So creamy, so delicious!

Tomorrow, I’ll be spending a bit of time at the Straße der Menschenrechte, photographing, writing, and eating strawberries. Tuesday, I’ll journey to Koblenz, then Wednesday to Dortmund!

The internet at our hostel has been patchy for the last few days, always when I wanted to get on, but thankfully it is functioning for the time being. This is good–too many more days without internet and an update would go on forever!

Let me prove that last sentence. On Thursday, the day following our eight-hour introduction to Berlin’s history, we visited Museum Island, nourished of course with another wonderful breakfast at our hostel. Seriously, the breakfasts are amazing. We walked down the street about ten minutes and, after only one backtrack, walked up the stairs to the Pergamon. It has remained magnificent in the year since I saw it. Walking through the foot-wide wooden door into the arms of the Pergamon temple still makes me gasp. The Ishtar Gate still makes me feel small, the market gate startles me with its massiveness, and the Mshatta Gate humbles me with its sheer complexity. 

At this pace, it will be a while before I head to bed. After a few hours at the Pergamon and a lovely lunch, we descended upon the Alte Nationalgalerie, which I had not visited during my last trip to Berlin. The Alte Nationalgalerie showed the transition from Realism to Impressionism, from massive paintings of emperors and generals to small, light-filled landscapes and still lifes. Wanting to spare a hobbling group member the long walk home, I offered to guide her through the Bahn system, only to get us both royally off course and at the entirely wrong train stop. Once we made it back to the hostel, we spent the evening chatting over hot chocolate and nachos in the hostel restaurant.

Yesterday was fairly uneventful despite being very full. We started the day intending to hit a Frida Kahlo exhibit, but, finding the queue a mere two hours at minimum, we instead headed to a Salvador Dali exhibition. Once there, and finding its entrance fee a bit steep for our student budgets, we walked over to the Käthe Kollwitz museum. It was like trying the three porridges and finding the last one ”juuuuust right.” The work there was amazing. Kollwitz rose to popularity right before National Socialism came to power in Germany. Her work is highly political, focusing on the suffering of the common people, but highly adept at capturing and conveying human emotion. Even after the two grand museums the day before, I felt as though the Kollwitz museum was where I really felt the deep power of art. For Kollwitz, the rise of Hitler also marked her banishment from “approved” art culture and her rechristening as a “degenerate” artist. The museum also had a floor of work by Otto Nagel. This work was mainly pastels, and showed, I thought, the values of Germans at the turn of the century: walks in the park, children playing, rain-soaked streets and umbrellas. Those works I truly loved, and wouldn’t have minded taking one or two home with me for my room.

These two artists, Kollwitz and Nagel, were both attacked for their artistic styles, censured for work that conveyed ideas outside of state-sanctioned “Socialistic Realism.” They had something important to convey; I wonder if either of them realized how powerful their work was, and is. They are but two pieces in the torrent of thoughts prompted by this trip to Berlin. I feel as though I’m slowly being pulled out to swim in cooler, deeper, darker water, and that the thoughts I have contemplated in the past are two lightweight to survive in the relentless tugging of history and memory. These days are filled with fun, and laughter, and joy, but the joy is mingled with a somberness of tone that naturally accompanies the place we are exploring.

I’m even more impressed by the seriousness of this culture by my memories of today, but my drooping eyelids are forcing that story to wait until later. Tomorrow promises more fun, more thoughts, but most importantly, more breakfast!

I’m back in Germany for six weeks this summer. Those six weeks will consist of a 10-day class trip with my Honors Senior Seminar group, a few days spent researching monuments in Berlin and Nürnberg, and a lovely few weeks up in Dortmund. Today is day 3 of my latest German adventure. After an absolutely amazing breakfast–a full German spread with bread, cheese, fruit, and no less than three varieties of granola–we journeyed through the central historic part of Berlin on a walking tour. The tour was originally meant to be six hours long, but turned out to be over eight hours. However, they were a very full eight hours. Starting from our hostel, we walked south and west, around to the Parisplatz, over to Museum Island, and then back up to where we began. Our guide grew up in Oregon, but lives now in Germany giving tours to different groups. He knew a ton about Berlin, and frequently told us to try to stump him with question. We weren’t succeeding until Jennifer asked him a question about flowers. He had no answer for us.

I snapped pictures all day, as we walked past numerous interesting places. Some of my favorites from the day were seeing a beautiful synagogue, eating lunch within view of the Reichstag, listening to a transcendentalist artist sing in the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe, learn that Hitler ate plates of chocolate cake in the weeks before his death, walking into the aroma of an enormous chocolate shop, and hearing the noise of the street fade when entering a few of the many courtyards in Berlin.

Internet is limited, so pictures will have to wait. This next week or so promises many interesting sights. Our professor, Dr. Ute, planned a trip that is light on cheese, high on culture, so we will be seeing some thought-provoking sides of Berlin’s offerings.

Now it’s off to find some dinner and let my feet recover some of their tranquility!

Wurstsalat–a taste comparable to hot dogs, onions and pickles

The day before Pappa Fath’s departure for a bike tour

Lazy afternoon treat

S’more?

Cinnamon and soy milk over ice, bitte.

Standby treat for hot Dortmund days

Suddenly I’m realizing that my summer seems to be all about food…

Fresh guacamole

Field near my apartment

Chilling in Bonn