A Dream Come True

I finally met her!

Since writing about my neighbor on June 14, I've been working too late to see her on her porch when I go for walks. I gave up on the idea of actually chatting with her instead of just smiling and saying hello.

But yesterday, I came home early and saw her coming outside. As soon as we exchanged complete sentences, she noticed my accent and asked where I was from. Before I knew it, I was going in through the gate and she was asking if I wouldn't be bored talking to someone her age. Bored? Are you kidding? I've been dying to meet people in Neufahrn and I had a feeling somehow that she'd be a good one to talk to. Was I ever right.

Frau Martini grew up a farmer's daughter several hours away. She and her two older sisters spent their whole adult lives in Munich; her brother was killed in World War II, fighting for the Nazis. (Hearing that reminded me of a memorial in Neufahrn to fallen WWII soldiers. I've learned about the enormous burden of guilt that Germany has carried the past several decades. But I'd never thought about how they'd remember fallen soldiers. What a bitter sorrow, knowing your loved one's life was lost in the name of Adolf Hitler!) She described shopping at the butcher's and baker's years ago in her job as a school cook in downtown Munich. Only in recent years has she moved here to Neufahrn, next door to her only child and three grandchildren.

We made a good pair. Neither of us had anywhere to be, so an hour and a half went by before I left to make dinner. And we both appreciate a slower-paced conversation - I due to my lacking German skills, and she because breathing is somewhat laborious. Frau Martini has had several surgeries to combat her cancer, but at this point, she's nearly done fighting. I was amazed by her sense of peace - she says she has no fear of death - and thankfulness for the full life she's led in her eighty-odd years. We talked a lot about our mutual faith and the assurance that God's plan is a good one.

I'm leaving Neufahrn on Monday to spend most of July downtown for my German course. (I'm excited to meet my new hostess, Frau Dorothea Rogall.) Hopefully Frau Martini and I can chat more when I return to Neufahrn for my last few weeks. In the meantime, I'm hoping to bring her some cookies this afternoon. Our conversation inspired me, and I'd love a repeat or two in my limited time here.

How I Know I’m American #1: The Dress Code

While in Austria and Germany, I’m really enjoying the chance to blend in with the crowd. In France, I always felt a little too tall, too blonde, and too not French. And I expect to stick out even more in future travels abroad, since I’m hoping to be around non-Caucasians. Here, not only are my hair color and height somewhat typical, but I even have multiple outfits that look similar to what I’ve seen other people wear. Amazing!

On the other hand, I’ve noticed a difference in the social norms surrounding clothing. One minor difference is the tendency to take off shoes indoors. On my first day at the Montessori school, they asked if I’d brought Hausschuhe (literally “house shoes”) with me to school. (It’s not a house, I wanted to retort. And no, my slippers are in the US.) I ended up going around in my socks, like most of the kids. This is apparently common at public schools too.

I noticed when the kids were about to play sports, they would change into shorts right in the hallway, in front of everyone. This is normal in German-speaking culture: the theory is that your underwear is no more revealing than a swimsuit, so it’s not a big deal. People also change into their swimsuits outdoors sometimes. It doesn’t really bother me, though I wouldn’t do so unless I really had to. But what does get to me, reminding me I’m not from here, is the nudity on the beaches.

It was pretty hard to avoid during the boat trip on Sunday. The German students even commented on it: “That’s so German! Why is it always the older and heavier people who feel the need to strip?” It was true: among those over 40 on the riverbanks, about half were nude, versus maybe 10% of younger beachgoers. Apparently you don’t have to pretend not to see them – my friends still waved and called hello to them. At first I just tried to avert my eyes, not really wanting the view. But later, it began to irritate me, because they were in the way of the photos I wanted to take. I’m glad you feel comfortable in your birthday suit, but I don’t think it improves the scenery... At one point, 2 people from my group (out of 17) briefly ditched their clothes, and I was glad that I hadn’t ever talked to them, because I felt pretty awkward about it.

Every culture defines modesty a little bit differently. Despite Germans’ laid-back attitudes toward covering up at the beach, nobody here wears the short shorts that are typical among young American girls. On my way home, I passed a Muslim woman wearing long sleeves and a flowing skirt despite the 80+ temperature. For an instant, I was indignant. It seemed unfair that such extreme modesty was required of her. Then I realized…maybe she can’t imagine wearing my T-shirt and capris any more than I can imagine joining the skinny dippers. I resolved to let her make her own decision about the clothing that’s comfortable for her. And to be thankful that she’s wearing clothes at all!

Adventures on the High Seas

On Sunday, my band of comrades and I were attacked by pirates.

They were rather jovial, though. In fact, I had chatted with a few of them earlier that day. I was with student members of the CVJM (Germany's YMCA), which is explicitly Christian, unlike the Y in the US. (Lisi, my friend in Innsbruck, connected me with her friend Claudi, who attends the group.) They had invited me to join them on the Isar River in several inflatable boats.

A few people took a smaller boat, while the two big boats had 7 people each. It's a pretty tame river and the boats are nearly impossible to tip. The scenery was really cool - in only 20 km, it seemed reminiscent of Canada's pines and Spain's Mediterranean scrub brush before switching back to typical German forests. Coupled with the gorgeous weather, it could have been a very mellow day.

But the Pirate Boat wouldn't have it. They started off the day by sneaking up behind us and drenching us by flinging water with their paddles. After a few successes and our best attempts at retaliation, they upped the ante. We were ready for more splashing, but instead they cruised by us and stole paddles out of two of my comrades' hands, leaving us defenseless and slow. A while after regaining our paddles, we managed to grab a few of theirs. They sent over Wolfi (short for Wolfgang) on a Search and Rescue mission. That's when things got interesting.

Wolfi jumped into our boat and played tug-of-war with a few of us for his boat's missing paddles, but we held on tightly. In the process, two of my loyal comrades fell out. "My sunglasses!" yelped Nina. Sure enough, while we recovered a hat, her Armani shades were nowhere in sight. Friedemann, the other victim, began searching in the swirling waste-deep waters of the Isar. Wolfi (filled with remorse?) got out and tried to anchor our boat, but the current was pulling hard. He decided to stay and keep an eye on Friedemann while we floated down a bit and found a spot to pull over on the opposite bank, which had a shore instead of a steep forested hill.

A minute later, Friedemann emerged empty-handed and swam over to us. Where was Wolfi? "I thought he was back in the boat already..." We yelled his name, peered in the shadows of the far bank, and asked everyone on the little boat when they passed by. No sign of him. We grimly recalled the warnings of our faithful leader about hitting one's head and falling unconscious. After a few minutes, we were really concerned.

Finally five minutes later, Wolfi emerged from the forest. Unable to make it back to Friedemann, he had climbed out and walked along the trail along the river. But the thick trees had drowned out our voices.

The next time the Pirate Boat approached us, we braced ourselves. But nothing happened. No jumping, no stealing, no splashing. We tied the boats' ropes together and lazily floated down toward the bridge that marked our final destination. Even pirates like to be mellow every now and then.

Exploring the World...through Microsoft Excel

A couple of you (namely, my parents) have requested an update on my job. It’s continued to involve lots of “translation tables” (Excel spreadsheets) between the old program, ABAS, and the new program, SAP. It also continues to involve down time – I rely on my co-workers, primarily a girl named Ebru who’s super-outgoing, to give me assignments. These typically last between 5 minutes and a couple of hours. Then I have to wait while she thinks of something else for me to do and finds time to explain it. During this time, I do things like...well, writing this post, for example.

I understand what’s being accomplished in a very broad sense, but I usually have only a faint idea of how my specific tasks fit into the plan. For example, I spent hours on Monday reformatting spreadsheets so that all the columns became rows. On Tuesday, it made more sense: I spent 8 straight hours (a record-long assignment!) printing out the hundreds of spreadsheets and putting them into binders. Since then, the temporary workers here this week have been poring over them and typing them into the new system. (Some are from other departments; others are from another German branch; others are college-age children of employees.) Ebru’s in charge of all of them, so I’m currently one of about 20 people competing to ask her questions. The system has to be in place by Monday, so it’s really crunch time.

I’ve learned some nifty tricks in Excel, like how to use formulas to fill in entire columns or how to search spreadsheets. (I hadn’t used Excel since 10th grade computer class, so it’s all new for me.) Another cool thing about all these spreadsheets is that I get a good sense of the company. I’ve seen lists of Suss' employees, their customers worldwide, the machines being sold, etc. This is more fun than you might think, because there’s a lot of “scope for the imagination.” A few of the gems I’ve found:

Vocabulary I’d like to start using:
Materialbelegnummerermittlung. Like all long German words, it’s made up of a bunch of smaller ones: Material is obvious, Beleg means “record,” Nummer means number, and Ermittlung is the noun form of “to determine.” All together, I’m not sure what it means. But I probably wouldn’t quite understand it in English, either. And it's a proven fact that using big words makes you sound smart.

Where I’d like to work:
Cheerful Technologies, Hong Kong. If I ever settle for an ordinary white-collar career, I’d like to know that I’m spreading joy in the world by selling happy machines.

Where I’d like to move:
Avenue des Anenomes, France. It sounds like an address out of “Finding Nemo.”
Snezhinsk, Russia. Gesundheit!

Where I’m getting my Master’s Degree:
Uppsala University, Sweden. This sounds a lot like what I’ve heard people say for “Oops” – a blend of the German word Hoppla and the newer word Ups borrowed from our word. I would love to have a diploma from here.
Institut sverhvysokochastotnoi, Russia. No explanation needed.

Mahlzeit!

There’s really only one German word you need to learn in order to work in a German company. Though I never speak English at work, everyone knows how to, and most have dealt with visiting co-workers and customers whose only common language is English. English also turns up in some random places at work: "Junk E-Mail" apparently has no translation, and titles of projects are often in English. (For example, I'm working on "Move Ahead," for SAP implementation.)

But regardless of your German skills, the word Mahlzeit (literally: “meal time”) is very important. At first I thought it was just a synonym for “bon appétit” (they also say Guten Appetit) – used when someone is beginning to eat. But it’s much more than that. Imagine it’s 11:30 and Georg is the first in line for lunch. He’ll exchange a “Mahlzeit” with the cook and the co-workers who first sit down with him, as well as those who come later on. They’ll all say it again when Georg leaves the Kantine, and he’ll continue to exchange it with people who see him coming back from lunch or with people on their way to lunch. In fact, he’ll say it to anyone he sees in the hallway for the next 2 hours, just in case they’re coming to or from lunch.

I've had to work on remembering to say "Mahlzeit" since noticing how frequently it's used. I see it as a challenge to try and tell someone "Mahlzeit" before they can say it to me. I want to expand it even more and say it to people who look hungry or as a subtle suggestion that someone should give me a snack. Any suggestions as to other relevant contexts would be much appreciated.

P.S. Another word I've heard a lot just made sense to me today: Feierabend (literally "celebration evening"). Feiertag means holiday, so I thought Feierabend meant taking the evening off, or leaving work early. This was confusing because co-workers would take about "doing a Feierabend" when someone left, even if it was already 7:30 or 8 PM. Wow, that's quite the evening off! How will you manage to fill up your remaining hour of daylight? But apparently it's more like "to be done for the day" or "to call it quits."

Germany vs. Turkey: Utter Madness

I wish I were a soccer fan.

I've never been good at watching or playing sports. In four seasons of PSU football, I made it to four games. I've been known to crochet, write letters, and play cards while I was supposed to be watching various games on TV. It's too much effort for me to simultaneously...
- find the ball,
- keep track of which direction everyone's traveling, and
- recall the few rules I've learned.
I rely on instant replay to show me when important things happen, because I never seem to catch them the first time. I have gained a lot of respect for people who can make intelligent comments about a game they've just seen.

At the same time, I've loved the non-technical aspects of being here for the EM, whose English name (as a helpful reader pointed out) is the Europe Cup. From the Montessori kids trading collectible stickers during recess...to the co-workers that come in wearing jerseys...to the kids on the street shouting "Tur-ki-ye"...to the instant conversation starters...it's a fun time. I may not know anything about the teams' strengths and weaknesses, but I know enough about their national identities to make me interested in the outcomes. And in this year's EM, the outcomes have been pretty interesting. Apparently, there's a good deal of variety in which teams do well each year. Italy, the 2006 World Cup champion, lost 3-0 to the Netherlands in a major upset. France, the 2nd place World Cup team and 2004 EM winner, didn't even make it to the quarter-finals.

Germany on the whole is strongly anti-patriotic. Given their history, they are wary of anyone who says they're proud of Germany or glad to be German. Schools don't have German flags or anything like the Pledge of Allegiance. The only context where Germans root for their country is in sporting events. 2006, when Germany hosted the World Cup, was a turning point: the first time in decades that people displayed little German flags. In the last few weeks, those flags have again been all over the place, namely on cars and hanging from balconies. My housemate Philipp warned me that the morning after Germany loses, all the flags will disappear. But Germany just played in the quarter-finals, and the ubiquitous flags show that it managed to advance.

Here's where things get extra interesting. The semi-finals have Germany playing against Turkey. Nobody expected Turkey to do well. My Turkish-German co-worker said she didn't care if they lost the quarter-finals; she was just delighted they'd made it this far. So it was a shock when they beat Croatia last night. (An amazing game, I'm told: Both teams scored their first point in the final seconds of double overtime.) The thing is, there are a lot of Turkish-origin people in Germany, including near me in Neufahrn. Many of them have been rooting for both teams (see above photo). Most have a conflicted relationship with their host country, complicated on both sides by dozens of factors. I am curious to observe how this tension plays out on the field. (In France, it would undoubtedly involve hundreds of cars on fire. Lacking citizenship, Germany's internationals avoid riots for fear of deportation, and Germans seem to prefer order more than the French do.) I'm not sure what to expect on June 25. But I'll do my best in watching it.

I'd love to learn why this is for sale...

A Twist in the Conversation

It’s usually a lot of fun realizing you have a connection to someone you’ve only just met. Yesterday, I visited an international church and went to a restaurant afterwards with a group of (mostly American) twentysomethings. While walking over, I chatted with a girl who said she had dated a guy who lived near Philly, and we realized he’s actually from my hometown. I’d never met him, but his last name sounded familiar. „His mom was a teacher,“ she told me. My heart sank. It was the same one I remembered from my middle school hallways.

I started to probe with more questions. She had dated him for four years and had been close with his family, but had stopped all contact with them since the breakup. So she didn’t know. Could I tell her? I had to. I fumbled for another minute or two, then spit it out: „Something really terrible happened with his mom this year...“ Is there any good way to tell a recent acquaintance that someone they care about has committed suicide? Her face crumpled. I felt as though I’d run her over with an SUV.

Since then, I’ve been angry with myself. How could I announce it so abruptly? Why hadn’t I waited to pull her aside when we got to the restaurant? Why hadn’t I just said that his mom had passed away, and waited for her to ask for details when she was ready, instead of mentioning suicide right away? Why hadn’t I sat down with her later on to pray for his family? It was the wrong place, the wrong time, and I was definitely the wrong person. I felt so clumsy and immature.

I’ve been interpreting my time abroad this summer as highly symbolic of my transition from college to whatever’s next. Each tiny victory here, from buying cell phone minutes to clearing up expectations with my boss, is exciting because it says, „I am a capable person. I can figure out life in a new situation.“ Yesterday illustrated that life isn’t always so manageable, even without grammar difficulties and cross-cultural confusion. I needed that jab to deflate my pride-filled bubble, and to remind me that my identity has nothing to do with my perceived success or failure. Since then, I've been holding on to what the apostle Paul writes to the Christians in Corinth:

„But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong.“

Foolish? Weak? Those traits are more familiar than I’d like to admit...overwhelmingly so yesterday. I work hard to cover them up so people admire me and like me. But God’s not interested in me proving myself – my painfully obvious limitations accent his wisdom and strength. As I overanalyzed yesterday’s events, it was a relief to see things his way. There’s someone who embraces the real me, complete with my insufficiencies, poor choices, and all-around awkwardness. And despite everything, he's not afraid of me messing things up. He still wants me on his team, passing on the love that I've found in him.

Sit with me and tell me once again...

...Of the story that's been told us
Of the power that will hold us
Of the beauty, of the beauty
Why it matters
-Sara Groves

I knew before coming to Neufahrn that I wanted to remember what matters. Lacking pre-established friendships here, it would be easy for online reruns of "The Office" to become the highlight of my day. But I don't want to miss the richness in culture, the wonderful and quirky ways that God's children in Neufahrn differ from the ones I've already met. I've been fighting to enjoy the beauty that exists here, and to revel in the beauty of its Creator.

As evidenced by the photo, I really love the clouds in Neufahrn. I've never lived anywhere nearly so flat, and I'm usually passionate about my preference for mountains or even rolling hills. I don't like it when buildings are the biggest thing in sight. But here, the clouds dwarf my view everywhere I go...there's so much sky to see. It's an amazing sight every day.

I discovered a Turkish grocery store down the street. I get some weird looks when I go, and I might be the only one there who doesn't speak Turkish. But I'm having quite an adventure searching for food amidst labels I don't understand. (Somewhere on the package, the important details are always listed in multiple languages: often German, French, and English, among others. But Turkish is the one printed front and center.) Some of my finds so far include couscous, a mix for lamb soup, snap peas, and chocolate-filled cookies, all at low prices.

A related adventure is baking. The guest house supplies all kinds of tasty breakfast foods as well as some baking staples. But when I went to bake a cake this week, I realized there were no baking pans. I ended up baking the batter in a saucepan, praying that the handle wouldn't...
1. melt,
2. explode, or
3. emit toxic fumes, poisoning the cake.
It apparently worked, so I invited my housemates to join me, and the two who were still awake shared it with me. One of them looked utterly dumbfounded when I offered him some. I think it was the highlight of his week, poor guy. Since then, I have the feeling that he's on the lookout for me to do something else totally unexpected, like paint a mural in the dining room or bring home a stray kitten.

I'm curious about people in Neufahrn. When I get bored or lonely, I love watching people downtown. I went to a tiny park yesterday where some toddlers (probably Turkish - there's a large Turkish population here) were having a ball. Nearly every evening when I leave the house to go for a walk, an older neighbor is sitting on her front porch. Once she watched me pass her, turn around and go back in, then re-emerge with something I had forgotten. She smiled knowingly and told me, "What is it they say? What you don't have in your head, you have to have in your feet." If I get that woman to invite me over for tea, my life in Neufahrn will be unquestionably a success.

Working in the eye of the storm

I’ve been working all week at Suss Microtec, the company that has employed my dad for over 20 years. It’s a little bizarre: everyone knows about the tiny town of Waterbury, Vermont, and expects me to be from there, since that’s the location of Suss’ US factory. A number of people at the company know my dad due to business trips over the years; some even remember meeting me as a youngster. But most of the people I work with directly don’t quite know what to make of me. They’re used to interning college students, but not Americans with no technical experience or related studies. About 80% of the employees are male, so I stand out in that sense too. People are generally friendly and there's a positive atmosphere: they seem to enjoy each other.

Suss is preparing to switch to SAP on July 1^st, so it’s extremely hectic. I’m helping out with SAP stuff, and have learned enough this week to roughly describe its fundamentals. It’s a huge database system that streamlines all the company’s information, from employee contact info to machine serial numbers to delivery dates on orders. People in my department are so busy that they didn’t have time to prepare for me. My boss didn’t show up until I’d been at work for 5 hours on Monday. (He’d worked over the weekend.) I couldn’t do anything until I got my laptop Tuesday afternoon, and even since then, I’ve had significant lag times between getting assignments. It's good news for my newly purchased journal: I’ve written over 20 pages describing my time in Innsbruck. Things should pick up quite a bit: I'm going to start moving between a few groups, according to which one needs my help at the moment. All have plenty for me to do, it's just a matter of finding time to explain it to me.

When I actually had work to do, it involved staring at thousands of numbers, trying to either check them or create a new document summarizing them differently. I don’t mind it, as long as my eyes don’t start to hurt: repetitive, menial tasks usually don’t bother me. All I need is a little intrinsic motivation. In this case, it’s the knowledge that I’m reducing people’s stress and practicing my German whenever I chat with co-workers or get instructions. They're all doing more or less the same projects, which are really crucial to the company's success right now. Getting paid in Euros doesn’t hurt, either! Though things have been slow for me, I have to wait for one of my housemates to take me home, and they all work 9 or 10 hours a day. So I expect to earn some overtime pay. It's not a thrilling job, but I think it should be a good experience.

...Hello, Neufahrn?

I arrived in the greater Munich area Sunday and instantly realized I would need to readjust my vision of my time here. I knew I was staying in Neufahrn, a small community 12 miles from downtown Munich. I didn't realize that going downtown takes an hour each way (if you include the walk to the S-Bahn stop) and costs $19.50 USD round-trip. At first, I nearly panicked. What would I do to amuse myself if I couldn't wander all over town? Where would I find things like a cell phone and the government paperwork I need for my internship? How would I afford to do things like go to church or meet with friends, if every trip is so expensive?

I'm still not quite sure what to make of it, but I've accepted the fact that my life generally consists of whatever’s within walking distance. Neufahrn is a subdued town…even the thunder was understated in tonight’s storm. In contrast to Innsbruck’s exuberant mountains, Neufahrn is completely flat and surrounded by fields. Due to Germany’s rigid zoning laws, it’s quite compact: all the stores are within a mile of where I live, and the houses don’t extend much past them. When I go for walks, I feel as though everyone notices me and knows that I’m new in town.

I’m staying in the “guest house” for Suss Microtec (my employer here), which means my housemates are also my co-workers. One’s a student intern almost done with his six-month stay here; the others, between ages 30 and 50, are staying here to help with specific projects. All four are guys: two Germans, one from California (I think he grew up in an Asian country), and one from Thailand. They’re all helpful, polite, and relatively friendly, but they treat the guest house more like a hotel: when they’re not getting food in the kitchen, they mostly stay in their rooms. They may become my friends, but for now they're at least my allies, which is important.

I'll be posting further impressions: to me, life in Neufahrn seems like a completely blank slate. Sometimes, the blankness is overwhelming. Other times, it’s numbing. But I have a vision of making my life here memorable.

Goodbye, Innsbruck...

Here are some photos of my time in Innsbruck, which ended Sunday morning.

I expected to enjoy Innsbruck, but I've been taken aback by how much it felt like part of my heart. As in most situations, this has something to do with the city itself and quite a bit to do with the people and experiences that defined my time there. The Innsbruck residents I met blew me away with their warmth, wisdom, and penchant for fun.

As I mentioned earlier, Dani and Lydia Miner (my first hosts) are internationals studying in Innsbruck. I had some amazing conversations with them and Berndi (who just proposed to Lydia) as well as lots of fun moments cooking, playing with the (name-unknown) cat they were watching, and creating music together. I also got to tag along and meet many of their friends from the Christian student group where they're both involved. Probably the closest friend I made in this group is a German student named Lisi, who's in Innsbruck only for the semester. She's studying education too, and already wrote me to ask how I'm doing in Munich. I also really enjoyed Karma, a Jordanian girl who followed Dani and Lydia to Innsbruck. Her sister is studying at Gettysburg starting this fall, if anyone's near there! It's a great privilege discovering "kindred spirits" around the world - people with whom I instantly feel comfortable opening up. They can be few and far between.

Irene and Horst Oexle hosted me last week, when the Miners' new roommate moved in. They're at the same church and thus know all my mom's old friends from Innsbruck. I had fun playing Rummikub with them and exchanging interesting phrases and expressions in German and English. (Irene loves obscure and goofy phrases in English like "see you later, alligator.") They kept me laughing the whole week, and cooked delicious Tyrolean specialties for me.

I had the joy of babysitting Rebekka and Miriam - the pastor's little girls - several times. Their parents have their hands full preparing for several American groups coming to visit and help out. Julie, their mom, is from Minnesota and first came here on a Fulbright scholarship. She encouraged me to come back to Austria...as if I needed encouragement! Plug: if you're a Christian college student whose native language is English, they'd love to have you visit for a week near the end of August! You'd be helping with an English camp for Austrian teens. No German skills required.

Everywhere I was in Innsbruck, I felt so loved and so alive. That made it hard knowing I'd be leaving soon, but part of me knew it was time. I have a feeling I needed to come to Munich in order to grow more as a person. Innsbruck was a really nurturing environment that equipped me in some ways for Munich. I had some sweet goodbyes - the Montessori kids were crazy about the Big Red gum I gave to them and filled my arms with pictures they'd made for me. And on my last night, I baked chocolate chip cookies with Dani, Lisi, Karma, and her German roommate Anne. We spent hours singing songs together and talking. Innsbruck was perfect in just about every sense.

The Montessori School

I'm at a Montessori school last week and this week to observe and occasionally help out. It's been a fascinating experience! The school has about 70 students aged 7 to 15, divided into 3 classes. (Montessori classes usually have a range of at least 3 years per class.) I've learned many of the students' names and earned the privilege of playing volleyball with some while others invite me to sit with them at snack. The teachers too are warm and welcoming, and have mostly left me free to roam around and observe wherever I want.

My main role is that of an onlooker, but it's allowed me to get a thorough impression of the school. Each class starts the day with a morning circle, where students explain their plans for the morning. (Older students even have to write down what they expect to accomplish each day.) A key feature of the Montessori method is that instead of large-group instruction, students more often learn through individual or small-group work that tends to be more hands-on. A few examples: to learn to write, the youngest kids trace one letter at a time, first in sand, then on paper, going over the same giant letter in ten or so colors of crayon. Math uses lots of color-coding and involves a cool block puzzle that illustrates the Pythagorean theorum, as well as beads that work like an abacus. The oldest students formed their own political parties and are in the process of holding elections as a way to explore Austria's government. The only subjects that routinely involve formal group instruction are choir (optional) and English (required after age 12, but opted for by many or most younger students).

Even in assignments that involve more traditional practice problems or writing assignments, students have flexibility. During the free work periods that make up the bulk of each day, they can decide to work on only writing, or start with math and later move to science. Certain tasks (especially in math) have prerequisites that they must finish first. Over time, students put in roughly equal work on each subject, but they might focus more on one or two during a given week or even month. In others, they can design their own project: if they find themselves intrigued by rock formations or the ancient Egyptians or Chinese poetry, they are free to propose a way of studying it alone or with a friend. The result is that students enjoy school much more: not only being in the building, but also actually learning and working. It also makes them much more assertive than your typical Austrian student: they readily voice resistance to assignments they don't like and try to barter for what they want. But from what I've seen, the teachers are well-respected and know when to insist on a certain method, and the students don't generally try to evade work.

The few cases where I've actively helped or participated have been really neat. On Friday, I accompanied a group of younger kids to a local church, where they were preparing for First Communion. Since Austria is heavily Catholic but not especially religious, First Communion is typically the responsibility of the schools. Georg, the teacher who led the trip, taught me as much as any of the 7-year-olds about the physical layout of Catholic churches! Later that day, I helped Nina, a special education student, check her work on some math problems. It’s a good thing she was using such a good method, because my ability to explain math errors in German is pretty limited! The aforementioned color-coding simplified my explanations and facilitated her understanding. Today, I presented my “life story” to some of the teens in English, and we discussed the elements that surprised them or sounded familiar to them. They were, of course, shocked by college tuition rates. (Austrian public universities cost about $1000 per year.) Tonight, I’ve spent hours trying to prepare for tomorrow, when I’ll explain the US voting system…in German…to the teenagers. Oy. By far my favorite moment so far has been in the 7-year-olds' English class, when they got a chance to ask me to translate a word or two for them. Guess what word they wanted? "Cambrian." One of Montessori's features is a huge chain that teaches younger kids about pre-historic periods and gives them a sense of how comparatively brief human history is. They had apparently used this chain earlier in the week. That's Montessori for you in a nutshell...fostering curiosity in all kinds of topics!

Innsbruck

Since I'm only here one more week, I'd better hurry up and describe this amazing town!

Innsbruck might well be the prettiest place I've ever been. It's surrounded by dramatic mountains, so that there's really nowhere you can go that doesn't have a great view. The mountains also inspire lots of outdoors activities. For example, they force Innsbruck residents to live in a very compact area, so everywhere is easily bikeable. I've been lucky enough to borrow a bike so far, which is amazingly convenient given the bike lanes all over town. Even from Dani and Lydia's to their church, which are really on opposite ends of town, takes just over 30 minutes with a bike. (It keeps me in shape too!)

But Innsbruck residents go for much more extreme sports than a leisurely bike ride through town. People I've met are into rock climbing, mountain biking, horseback riding (very typical among kids at the Montessori school) and even paragliding. Hiking is almost the default social activity around here, and people are already swimming in all the mountain lakes, despite their frigid temperatures.

People here are very proud of their region, Tirol (Tyrol in English), which borders Germany, Switzerland, and Italy. It's the westernmost region and mostly rural; even Innsbruck has just over 100,000 residents. Tirol is known for its thick dialect...I studied up on Austrian German before I got here, and I can figure out a lot of things when they're slower, but the pronunciation really is quite different. One example:

English - I don't know either.
Standard German - Das weiss ich auch nicht.
Tiroler German - Des wuos i a nit.

Most differences are audible but spelled the same; there are also a number of Austrian expressions, as well as vocabulary words that are officially part of Austrian German, like the words for "apricot" and "January." Tirol's dialect is thicker than most; Bavaria, Germany (where Munich is located) is about as bad, but they at least share many of their eccentricities. People tease me about studying German in places where the language isn't really German. But I actually understand more than I expected, even when native speakers talk amongst themselves, which is really nice.

Tourists love Innsbruck, and so do foreign students: they recently instituted a rule that the at least 50% of the students enrolled in the medicine program at the university had to be Austrian. (Germans love the school of medicine because its admissions standards are lower than those at German med schools.) A lot of German students come for the mountains and the outdoors sports. I appreciate their presence, because it seems to be easier to understand students' conversations when not everyone is from Tirol.