I do love words. I'm a talkative kind of person -- my family called me Chatty Kathy when I was a kid, and it wasn't just because of the talking doll that was so named -- and I can not imagine a life without books. So when I decided that I wanted to go to Germany for an extended stay, my first task was to master the language, both written and spoken. I applied for the Junior Year Abroad Program from my university, feeling I had a pretty good basis due to the college German courses I had taken, but truth be told, I only had four semesters under my belt. At latest the warning bells should have gone off when I was accepted with the admonition that although my German was weak, the committee felt I was highly motivated (no wonder they didn't award me the scholarship slot!).
At any rate, off I flew, to a country I had visited only briefly before, totally confident about the adventure ahead. Until about halfway through the flight. Suddenly I realized I had no clue what I was in for, but short of jumping out of the plane, there was no turning back now. Luckily I was to spend the first month with the Brauns, the same family I had lived with while on a 3 week exchange just after high school graduation, and I knew they all spoke English (except the father, but he was hardly around anyway). It was a great month, full of travel and all manner of new experiences, and to help my language skills, the family increasingly spoke only German to me. The son Christof took things a step further, making me fend for myself when I wanted to buy stamps or some such thing, standing next to me and smiling at my fumbled attempts at communication. Sometimes I felt this was cruel and unusual punishment, but I had to grudgingly admit that learning by speaking is the only way to go with languages.
However what I encountered in the streets and stores had nothing to do with the high German I had learned at Willaim and Mary. My clearly enunciated phrase "ich weiss es nicht" ("I don't know" -- boy, did I use that one often!) was certainly not the common way of saying it in the area where the Brauns lived. It took me a while to realize that "isch weiis es nit" was the exact same wording (I really wish you could hear me pronounce these two sentances here -- there is a HUGE difference!). But wanting to fit in, I did my best to speak as spoken to.
Suddenly it was the end of September and time for me to go to Münster in the state of Nordrhein-Westphalen, where I would be studying at the university there. Christof and his friend Ekki drove me up, helped me get settled into the tiny apartment where I would be residing, guided me through the worst of the matriculation paperwork and then left again, as Christof had an exam the next day. The minute the door shut behind them I dissolved into the tears I had been holding back all day. What was I doing in this strange room in a foreign city? My entire life I had never even had a bedroom to myself, much less lived on my own. Now what? And to make matters worse, the next day was my 20th birthday. Seeing no other option, I marched across the hall to a room where I heard female voices talking and laughing, knocked loudly on the door and announced to the startled young woman who answered "My name is Kathy, I just moved in across the hall, and tomorrow is my birthday!" I didn't need to add that I was American -- that was obvious from my accent and I think now, my behavior. After a stunned moment of silence, I was invited in and introduced to the three woman inside. Annette, Inge and Petra all lived in the building and after a short visit with them, I felt much better. I was invited back for the next afternoon and and was very touched to see tea, cake and a small gift in my honor. From then on we were great friends and the three of them took me under there collective wings. Later Wilma moved in next to me and joined the gang, so that I had a wonderful group of friends in my new home.
I hate to stop now as I am having a great time writing this, but dinner calls, so maybe more tomorrow.....................
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