My name is Molly Rowland, and I am an alcoholic. Come on, me? A chocoholic, maybe.... No, what I really want to talk about at this very moment is the drinking age here in Austria. It's 16 years old, and I find that to be way too young. People may like to think that the younger you start drinking the more responsible you are about it, but I find that to be a falsehood. No, I'm not saying that they should bump the drinking age up to 21. America has the drinking age wrong as well.
On my way home from a friends this evening, I enjoyed riding the bus with 8 or so kids that looked to be about 16. They were rowdy, drunk, and just plain annoying. It's 10pm on a Thursday night, really?! I got out of the bus only to find broken glass everywhere, and young kids pulling back a few brewskies. As I walk by one boy is kicking bottles of broken glass around. Not at all dangerous when one is extremely intoxicated.
As I wait to cross the street a few teens decide to ignore the traffic sign and walk in the middle of the street, despite the fact that there were cars coming. He holds up his hands, laughing, and says something along the lines of "hit me" as he grins at his friends. Really hilarious, if you want to end up dead. This also brings up the issue of being able to drink alcohol in public...
So here's what it boils down to:
A) I feel 16 year olds are too young to be legally allowed to drink. I realize that adults can also act just as stupid when they're drunk, but they tend to do that more in the privacy of their own homes or in bars. The drunk idiots I see outside are usually kids.
B) Drinking should not be allowed on busses or outside. All it does is create an environment that is dangerous for those drinking and the people around them.
There really is no right drinking age, but if I could choose:
I would go for the legal drinking age being 19. At that point one is in college-or at least out of high school, and should be able to act responsibly. Generally speaking, there is a huge difference between 16-year-olds and 19-year-olds. Those few years do tend to make a difference in the maturity of individuals.
Ok, I will admit it. I drank tonight. But then again, I wasn't the one standing in front of a bus, waving my hands saying, "hit me." Oh kids...the reason I could never be a high school teacher....
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Vacation Days, Overworked Americans
Grüss Gott!
No, this entry is not about me bragging about my vacations. As many of you know, last weekend I went to Vienna with the other students from my study abroad program, and it was amazing. Authentic Viennese meals, wine tasting, shopping, a tea house, and a guided walking tour. And, this coming weekend, we have an extra few days off so I'm going to London with some other grad students. However, I am actually talking about vacation in another sense.
Today in my German as a second language course, our professor mentioned the 25 days a year that Austrians are legally entitled to. When I mentioned that workers in America get 2 weeks if they are lucky, and that most of them don't take the aforementioned day, even if they are sick, she looked at me as if I had two heads.
Thansk for the sympathy, because I sure as hell don't understand it either. The million dollar question is: would you rather have more days off and earn less money, or less days off and more money? In a perfect world both could be had, but that just isn't so. I would choose the extra day off, everytime.
Americans are overworked and all it is leading to is depression, obesity, heart attacks, and overall dissatisfaction with life. What is the point of working to you drop if you don't get to live and enjoy life?
I am not totally naive. I realize there are bills to pay. It is inevitable that one has to pay for food and shelter, and now things like a phone, and perhaps a car. But no one actually needs cable, 10 big screen tvs, or designer clothing. And, if you are working all of the time, are you ever enjoying these things anyway?
I just feel like we need to take more time and enjoy life. Perhaps Americans will never get as many days off as Europeans (that is one of the major reasons I am considering moving to Europe), but many feel guilty to even take off the 2 weeks they are offered! I am telling people to take them and relax. Spend time with your family, sleep in, or take that trip to Paris you always wanted. It's your life. You live in once. You might as well enjoy it.
No, this entry is not about me bragging about my vacations. As many of you know, last weekend I went to Vienna with the other students from my study abroad program, and it was amazing. Authentic Viennese meals, wine tasting, shopping, a tea house, and a guided walking tour. And, this coming weekend, we have an extra few days off so I'm going to London with some other grad students. However, I am actually talking about vacation in another sense.
Today in my German as a second language course, our professor mentioned the 25 days a year that Austrians are legally entitled to. When I mentioned that workers in America get 2 weeks if they are lucky, and that most of them don't take the aforementioned day, even if they are sick, she looked at me as if I had two heads.
Thansk for the sympathy, because I sure as hell don't understand it either. The million dollar question is: would you rather have more days off and earn less money, or less days off and more money? In a perfect world both could be had, but that just isn't so. I would choose the extra day off, everytime.
Americans are overworked and all it is leading to is depression, obesity, heart attacks, and overall dissatisfaction with life. What is the point of working to you drop if you don't get to live and enjoy life?
I am not totally naive. I realize there are bills to pay. It is inevitable that one has to pay for food and shelter, and now things like a phone, and perhaps a car. But no one actually needs cable, 10 big screen tvs, or designer clothing. And, if you are working all of the time, are you ever enjoying these things anyway?
I just feel like we need to take more time and enjoy life. Perhaps Americans will never get as many days off as Europeans (that is one of the major reasons I am considering moving to Europe), but many feel guilty to even take off the 2 weeks they are offered! I am telling people to take them and relax. Spend time with your family, sleep in, or take that trip to Paris you always wanted. It's your life. You live in once. You might as well enjoy it.
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Tourists....
Coming from a small town in Michigan, I am not used to having tourists around. When Target gets too crowded and I can't look for what I want in peace, I am often inclined to simply drive home without buying anything. Try putting a person like this in Salzburg, Austria, and, not only that, but on the most touristy street in this already touristy city. I often get annoyed when I am on my bike and am blocked by the Japanese tourists taking pictures of the cement or something else just as interesting, making me arrive at my destination 30 seconds later than I wanted to. For someone that wakes up at the last possible second every morning, it makes all of the difference.
Kidding aside (okay, large crowds do annoy me), I do feel incredibly lucky to be able to spend a year in a place like this. In the morning I do wake up to church bells that are so loud, I often think that my parents can hear them all the way in America. But I get up, walk out of what is a former convent, and walk across the narrow street to the bakery. There I greet the same woman I see every morning and order my usual: a hot chocolate to go and a bread roll. I stroll along the street and glance quickly at the post office, reminding myself that I mustn't forget to send this or that person a postcard to remind them that I miss them. Then comes the small chocolate and fruit shop. I always stop and glance at the older gentlemen that owns the place. He wears glasses that are always low on the bridge of his nose and looks as if he could be a coin collector. He is there every day, 7 days a week, and I often wonder what his life story is. Then I pass the wine bar, that I remind myself I must go to, being the lover of wine that I am. Then it's time to cross the bridge, where I stop to glance at the mountains, the hills, the beautiful greenery and the architecture, while also simultaneously trying to quickly walk past the tourists that are, again, taking horrible pictures of each other that indeed will not turn out well.
Finally I can take the bus to class. When I actually am in class, and am not feeling particularly interested in the subject, I look out the window and admire the beautiful view of the mountains and the huge fortress that lies before me, and am so grateful for who I am and how far I've come. After all, it has lead me here.
Kidding aside (okay, large crowds do annoy me), I do feel incredibly lucky to be able to spend a year in a place like this. In the morning I do wake up to church bells that are so loud, I often think that my parents can hear them all the way in America. But I get up, walk out of what is a former convent, and walk across the narrow street to the bakery. There I greet the same woman I see every morning and order my usual: a hot chocolate to go and a bread roll. I stroll along the street and glance quickly at the post office, reminding myself that I mustn't forget to send this or that person a postcard to remind them that I miss them. Then comes the small chocolate and fruit shop. I always stop and glance at the older gentlemen that owns the place. He wears glasses that are always low on the bridge of his nose and looks as if he could be a coin collector. He is there every day, 7 days a week, and I often wonder what his life story is. Then I pass the wine bar, that I remind myself I must go to, being the lover of wine that I am. Then it's time to cross the bridge, where I stop to glance at the mountains, the hills, the beautiful greenery and the architecture, while also simultaneously trying to quickly walk past the tourists that are, again, taking horrible pictures of each other that indeed will not turn out well.
Finally I can take the bus to class. When I actually am in class, and am not feeling particularly interested in the subject, I look out the window and admire the beautiful view of the mountains and the huge fortress that lies before me, and am so grateful for who I am and how far I've come. After all, it has lead me here.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Fahrscheine, bitte!
Public transportation in Europe (or at least in Austria and Germany), relies heavily on the honor system. You may either buy a ticket from the driver at the front of the bus, or go in through the back, assuming you have a long-term ticket or have already purchased a ticket from a machine. Easy enough, right? A lot of people get on without paying....
This morning I had an appointment with a Professor. Upon rising at 8am for the third day in a row, I wanted to kill myself. I did manage, however, to get out of the building at 8:30am, as planned. I got onto the bus, put my headphones in my ears, and started jamming to Monday Morning, a song that I could listen to 30 times a day. Just before my stop I hear a man say "Fahrscheine bitte!" or "Tickets please!" I look down to grab my ticket. Oh shit. I brought the wrong purse this morning.
The man controlling the tickets stares at me, unamused. I think fast, and decide it would be best to converse with him in English, rather than German. If I had spoken with him in German, I would assume that he would've thought someone fluent in German should've known better than to forget their ticket. After explaining my situation, we have arrived at my stop, and he motions for me to get off of the train. He then demands 60 Euro from me, the penalty for "Schwarz fahren," or being caught on public transportation without a ticket. I calmly tell him that I do not have 60 Euro with me, at which point he says that I need to get the money somehow or he will call the police. And that, he told me, was going to be very expensive.
Shit. What now? I was so close by. I could walk down the street to my professor. If only I had 60 Euro with me.... But I didn't, and I told him I could get the money out of the bank with my debit card. So he motions for me to get on the next bus, and we ride over to the bank. Before we get there, he asks if I have 5 Euro. I hand it to him, and he buys me a day ticket. He hands it to me and says that it is good for the whole day, and that I had better go and get a month or semester ticket. He told me how to get back to where I was meeting my professor, and that was it. I got off of the hook in away, but the experience frightened me. In the first place, it was terribly embarrassing, and in the second place, being on the bus without a ticket could end up being terribly expensive! 60 Euro is my food money for a week! Needless to say, I will not be forgetting my bus ticket anytime soon....
This morning I had an appointment with a Professor. Upon rising at 8am for the third day in a row, I wanted to kill myself. I did manage, however, to get out of the building at 8:30am, as planned. I got onto the bus, put my headphones in my ears, and started jamming to Monday Morning, a song that I could listen to 30 times a day. Just before my stop I hear a man say "Fahrscheine bitte!" or "Tickets please!" I look down to grab my ticket. Oh shit. I brought the wrong purse this morning.
The man controlling the tickets stares at me, unamused. I think fast, and decide it would be best to converse with him in English, rather than German. If I had spoken with him in German, I would assume that he would've thought someone fluent in German should've known better than to forget their ticket. After explaining my situation, we have arrived at my stop, and he motions for me to get off of the train. He then demands 60 Euro from me, the penalty for "Schwarz fahren," or being caught on public transportation without a ticket. I calmly tell him that I do not have 60 Euro with me, at which point he says that I need to get the money somehow or he will call the police. And that, he told me, was going to be very expensive.
Shit. What now? I was so close by. I could walk down the street to my professor. If only I had 60 Euro with me.... But I didn't, and I told him I could get the money out of the bank with my debit card. So he motions for me to get on the next bus, and we ride over to the bank. Before we get there, he asks if I have 5 Euro. I hand it to him, and he buys me a day ticket. He hands it to me and says that it is good for the whole day, and that I had better go and get a month or semester ticket. He told me how to get back to where I was meeting my professor, and that was it. I got off of the hook in away, but the experience frightened me. In the first place, it was terribly embarrassing, and in the second place, being on the bus without a ticket could end up being terribly expensive! 60 Euro is my food money for a week! Needless to say, I will not be forgetting my bus ticket anytime soon....
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Frustration
I tend to be the type of person that likes to just include the good times, but the whole idea of studying abroad is to learn and grow, so I think I will be "typically German" by being honest here.
It is hard for me to deal with change. I had a day or two of a transition period each time I moved on to a new program (to the language course in Tübingen, for example). This time in Salzburg is no different. For the past couple of years, when I visited Germany, I could understand what was going on around me. The conversations aren't difficult to understand, and I feel, for the most part, at home. Then, low and behold, this year I end up studying abroad in Austria, where they also speak "German." I, however, have no idea in hell what they are saying.
Yesterday, for example, some of the other students and I took advantage of the cheap Bayern-Ticket and took the 2 hour train ride to Munich (although I had just left Munich yesterday to move to Salzburg, I was eager to go back). There, I had no problem with the language. On the way back to Austria, however, everyone was loud and drunk, due to having been at the Oktoberfest. These men and women made jokes in what was supposedly German, and, instead of laughing like I usually would, I just stared blankly. I couldn't understand a word they were saying! I really felt like I had been studying German for 7 weeks instead of 7 years. I just didn't get it. Austrian German is totally different.
It's definitely frustrating, but I know God sent me here for something. If He thinks I can do it, than I think I can do it. I'm going to try my hardest to understand the cultural differences. I'm going to attend classes, study hard, travel and hope for the best. And perhaps switch my master's thesis to something along the lines of "The cultural differences between Germany and Austria." That is a bit broad, but I can narrow the spectrum by the end of the year.
This is me signing out, hoping for the best.
Molly
It is hard for me to deal with change. I had a day or two of a transition period each time I moved on to a new program (to the language course in Tübingen, for example). This time in Salzburg is no different. For the past couple of years, when I visited Germany, I could understand what was going on around me. The conversations aren't difficult to understand, and I feel, for the most part, at home. Then, low and behold, this year I end up studying abroad in Austria, where they also speak "German." I, however, have no idea in hell what they are saying.
Yesterday, for example, some of the other students and I took advantage of the cheap Bayern-Ticket and took the 2 hour train ride to Munich (although I had just left Munich yesterday to move to Salzburg, I was eager to go back). There, I had no problem with the language. On the way back to Austria, however, everyone was loud and drunk, due to having been at the Oktoberfest. These men and women made jokes in what was supposedly German, and, instead of laughing like I usually would, I just stared blankly. I couldn't understand a word they were saying! I really felt like I had been studying German for 7 weeks instead of 7 years. I just didn't get it. Austrian German is totally different.
It's definitely frustrating, but I know God sent me here for something. If He thinks I can do it, than I think I can do it. I'm going to try my hardest to understand the cultural differences. I'm going to attend classes, study hard, travel and hope for the best. And perhaps switch my master's thesis to something along the lines of "The cultural differences between Germany and Austria." That is a bit broad, but I can narrow the spectrum by the end of the year.
This is me signing out, hoping for the best.
Molly
Friday, October 1, 2010
Generosity
Before I begin the account of the last 2 weeks I spent in Munich (3 weeks total), I would lake to take this time to talk about the people here.
Back when I was 11 (oh no, not one of those stories!!!) I worked as a mother's helper for a German family down my street. I thought their house smelled different (like German waffles, not like my house, anyway), I wondered why they ate something called Kinder Schokolade, and why they always left their door open. I didn't understand them, and, at that age, frankly, I didn't care. That family came and went and I really didn't think a thing of it. Of course, I enjoyed hearing from them and vice-versa, but they hadn't inspired me or anything.
Then, along comes the day sophomore year when I decide I need to study a language other than French. I actually had a lot of those days where I decided I was going to switch out of classes and into others-my counselor rarely appreciated a visit from me. So along came that day, just like any other day, except that day, I was picking the right class to switch into. I switched into German four weeks late, something I had done with lots of other classes (Would you believe I wanted to take an anatomy class! I switched out of that quickly) I didn't expect much upon changing, was just curious.
The moment I walked into the classroom it changed my life. I liked my teacher right away, a strong, competent, kind yet stern women that I admired from the moment I saw her. I received my text book that day and went straight home to study. That was never me. I only studied for things I felt like were really worth my time. Low and behold, soon after starting to take German, I decided to e-mail that family I used to mother's helper for. I tried using some of my, at that time, very bad German, and the mother, Elke, and I e-mailed back and forth. Then came the day that I received an e-mail that would change my life. "Do you want to come and visit us in Germany?" Elke asked. Wow, Europe! I'd never really been anywhere so exotic and exciting. That summer wasn't a good time for me, but I told Elke the following summer (when I would be 17) would be perfect. And, it was. I visited them for 3 weeks in a small town in southern Germany.
Since this time I have babysat for countless Germans in the Detroit area and, thanks to their generosity, have been able to come and visit many of them in Germany. Since my first trip in 2002, I have been to Germany 4 times. Who are these families?
There is Frauke and her kids. I helped babysit for her kids, and in exchange got a plane ticket to Germany and the most amazing 2 summers of my life. Such a kind, warm, and thoughtful woman that doubles as my mom. There is Christine, who is always willing to let me stay with her and her family. She's incredibly generous, funny, kind and always good for a laugh and a smile. She's great to have around and can always make me feel good. Then there is Susanne, typically German, amazing sense of humor, and incredibly warm and kind. She has a very sympathetic ear. Then there are countless others, Anja and her family, Bettina and hers, Anke's mother--"Oma." So many. I am so lucky to have them all.
They have picked me up at airports, driven me to train stations, bought me drinks, meals, cooked for me, invited me into their home, and helped me when I had a question or an issue. They let me become like a member of their family. I care about them more than they know. I am so grateful to these generous people. These women that I admire so much. They have careers, children, very busy lives-but they let me in. They made time for me. It would've been just as easy for them to say, "Hmm. How about not? I'm busy enough as it is." I really love and care about them and their families, and I hope they know how very thankful I am to have them in my lives. They are the reason why I feel so comfortable in Europe. I might not see them all the time, but I know that they are there if I need them.
They are the reason why I love Germany so much. Yes, I quite fancy the ice cream, the coffee, the cobblestone streets, the museums, and of course, the language. But they are what make it so wonderful for me here. They come from a completely different cultural background that I find both fascinating, and, at times, confusing. But I love Germany, and it's people. They have all helped me understand this culture. They leave their windows open without screens, walk everywhere, talk openly about tough issues, are incredibly blunt, but, most, of all, they are generous and kind. When you befriend a German, you are friends for life. :)
Back when I was 11 (oh no, not one of those stories!!!) I worked as a mother's helper for a German family down my street. I thought their house smelled different (like German waffles, not like my house, anyway), I wondered why they ate something called Kinder Schokolade, and why they always left their door open. I didn't understand them, and, at that age, frankly, I didn't care. That family came and went and I really didn't think a thing of it. Of course, I enjoyed hearing from them and vice-versa, but they hadn't inspired me or anything.
Then, along comes the day sophomore year when I decide I need to study a language other than French. I actually had a lot of those days where I decided I was going to switch out of classes and into others-my counselor rarely appreciated a visit from me. So along came that day, just like any other day, except that day, I was picking the right class to switch into. I switched into German four weeks late, something I had done with lots of other classes (Would you believe I wanted to take an anatomy class! I switched out of that quickly) I didn't expect much upon changing, was just curious.
The moment I walked into the classroom it changed my life. I liked my teacher right away, a strong, competent, kind yet stern women that I admired from the moment I saw her. I received my text book that day and went straight home to study. That was never me. I only studied for things I felt like were really worth my time. Low and behold, soon after starting to take German, I decided to e-mail that family I used to mother's helper for. I tried using some of my, at that time, very bad German, and the mother, Elke, and I e-mailed back and forth. Then came the day that I received an e-mail that would change my life. "Do you want to come and visit us in Germany?" Elke asked. Wow, Europe! I'd never really been anywhere so exotic and exciting. That summer wasn't a good time for me, but I told Elke the following summer (when I would be 17) would be perfect. And, it was. I visited them for 3 weeks in a small town in southern Germany.
Since this time I have babysat for countless Germans in the Detroit area and, thanks to their generosity, have been able to come and visit many of them in Germany. Since my first trip in 2002, I have been to Germany 4 times. Who are these families?
There is Frauke and her kids. I helped babysit for her kids, and in exchange got a plane ticket to Germany and the most amazing 2 summers of my life. Such a kind, warm, and thoughtful woman that doubles as my mom. There is Christine, who is always willing to let me stay with her and her family. She's incredibly generous, funny, kind and always good for a laugh and a smile. She's great to have around and can always make me feel good. Then there is Susanne, typically German, amazing sense of humor, and incredibly warm and kind. She has a very sympathetic ear. Then there are countless others, Anja and her family, Bettina and hers, Anke's mother--"Oma." So many. I am so lucky to have them all.
They have picked me up at airports, driven me to train stations, bought me drinks, meals, cooked for me, invited me into their home, and helped me when I had a question or an issue. They let me become like a member of their family. I care about them more than they know. I am so grateful to these generous people. These women that I admire so much. They have careers, children, very busy lives-but they let me in. They made time for me. It would've been just as easy for them to say, "Hmm. How about not? I'm busy enough as it is." I really love and care about them and their families, and I hope they know how very thankful I am to have them in my lives. They are the reason why I feel so comfortable in Europe. I might not see them all the time, but I know that they are there if I need them.
They are the reason why I love Germany so much. Yes, I quite fancy the ice cream, the coffee, the cobblestone streets, the museums, and of course, the language. But they are what make it so wonderful for me here. They come from a completely different cultural background that I find both fascinating, and, at times, confusing. But I love Germany, and it's people. They have all helped me understand this culture. They leave their windows open without screens, walk everywhere, talk openly about tough issues, are incredibly blunt, but, most, of all, they are generous and kind. When you befriend a German, you are friends for life. :)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)