Zur Mitte, zur Titte, zum Sack, Zack Zack!!

21 January 2011—Kaiserslautern

I arrived in Kaiserslautern in the evening.  Fabian greeting me at the station and we walked back to his apartment where I promptly crashed on the couch, exhausted from the night before.  I was woken about an hour later by Robert as he collapsed onto me for a giant hug.  He had arrived with his roommate, Nils.

Robert and Fabian couchsurfed at my apartment back in October.  While they were visiting Philadelphia, I took them and a third surfer from New Zealand to my friend’s 21^st birthday party.  That evening was certainly a precursor to the weekend I would experience here.

 

Robert, Fabian, Nils, and I road the train to Mannheim.  It was about an hour ride, so we passed the time sipping beers.  We met up with Christina and two of her friends.  Meat consumption number four:  pepperoni pizza.  At Christina’s we had these adorable little shots of schnapps, or something.  They were in colorful little bottles and were accompanied by a charming routine.  On the bottom of the bottle was a number.  Mine was 15.  I tapped the bottle 15 times on my leg, opened it, stuck the cap on my nose and proceeded to drink the shot hands free, with the neck of the bottle in between my teeth.  We all did it together.  And well, if your bottle had the number 99… sucks to be you.

 

We headed out to a club.  After pressing through an impressive crowd to the coat check, we made our way out to the dance floor.  I will again repeat my sentiments regarding the Germans and their dancing.  I love it.  It is so charmingly uncoordinated and awkward that I can’t help but smile and join in.  By the end of the night I was drenched in beer, my own and others’.

A man named Franz was trying to dance with Christina.  She looked at me in desperation, so I told Franz she would dance with him when she finished her beer.  I proceeded to continuously refill her beer whenever it neared empty.  Apparently, I also threatened his life at some point, as he dragged Christina off to say goodnight.

When we left the club, we went to a Döner Kebab Haus.  I really should consider revoking my title as a vegetarian.  Everyone had spent the day insisting I try a Kebab.  I was expecting meat on a skewer.  However, what I got was a pita stuffed with shredded beef, lettuce, a mystery sauce and other goodies.  It was actually quite tasty but I did not finish it, passing the second half to Fabian, who showed no resistance.

I finished off the evening in a Turkish bar with Nils, as the others already headed back to Christina’s to sleep.  Drinking my final beer of the evening, I was surround by celebration.  It may have been a wedding, or a birthday; I’m not quite sure.  Flower pedals coated the floor and crowds danced enthusiastically to traditional Turkish music.

22 January 2011—Kaiserslautern

I cooked dinner for Fabian, Robert, and Nils.  Pasta with a homemade vegetable sauce, nothing terribly special.  However, I must say, it is always an adventure cooking in someone else’s kitchen, and such a process makes me wish I had packed my Shun Santoku knife in my pack (does that make me a loser?).  Instead, I found myself creatively and inefficiently slicing vegetables with a two inch blade. 

After dinner, Robert, Nils, and I played a card game while introducing one another to strange YouTube videos.  So without further ado, I present to you, Big Booty Bitches:

Fabian had arranged a big night out with all of his friends.  There were 17 of us, and we started at the Hofbrauhaus below Fabian’s apartment.  I was swiftly bombarded with a list of names and faces, most of which I do not remember now.  After a few rounds at the Brauhaus, we moved on to another bar, and later to a dance club.

This evening was the first time I felt truly alone since the beginning of this trip.  I’ve wandered cities by myself, gazed out train windows into vast fields of unknown land, but never really felt alone.  While it is the tool of communication, language can be an isolating thing.  When one lacks the linguistic ability to communicate, you lose your connection to humanity.  Isolated amongst a group of friends who speak, joke, and relate with one another at ease, struggling to capture a word or a phrase recognizable phrase, I was essentially alone despite the crowd surrounding me.  I began to question what I left behind, and what it was I was seeking.  What I left was comfort, and what I was seeking was discomfort.  So I was exactly where I wanted to be.  But to see comfort, without feeling it, can be a bit distressing, even when that is what was sought.

23 January 2011—Kaiserslautern

While Kaiserslautern may be the place where I have learned the most German thus far, I can’t really say it’s the most useful.  Or maybe it absolutely is the most useful.

Robert cooked me a lovely dinner which was meat consumption number (what are we up to now?!) six.  Don’t worry, I gave him permission to cook something with meat beforehand, for the sake of experiencing traditional German food.

24 January 2011—Kaiserslautern

I accompanied Robert and Artur (another roommate) to their mathematics class at the University.  The professor was French.  German sounds pretty funny when spoken with a French accent.  I opted to use the time to make progress in my Rosetta Stone program, which I have neglected greatly.  Surrounded by Germans, I felt quite awkward as simple (often comical) German sentences popped onto my screen with accompanying (often equally hilarious) photos.