a piece of childhood

Knecht Ruprecht

Von drauß vom Walde komm' ich her;
Ich muß euch sagen, es weihnachtet sehr!
Allüberall auf den Tannenspitzen
Sah ich goldene Lichtlein sitzen;
Und droben aus dem Himmelstor
Sah mit großen Augen das Christkind hervor,
Und wie ich so strolcht' durch den finstern Tann,
Da rief's mich mit heller Stimme an:
"Knecht Ruprecht", rief es, "alter Gesell,
Hebe die Beine und spute dich schnell!
Die Kerzen fangen zu brennen an,
Das Himmelstor ist aufgetan,
Alt' und Junge sollen nun
Von der Jagd des Lebens ruhn;
Und morgen flieg' ich hinab zur Erden,
Denn es soll wieder Weihnachten werden!"
Ich sprach: "O lieber Herre Christ,
Meine Reise fast zu Ende ist;
Ich soll nur noch in diese Stadt,
Wo's eitel gute Kinder hat." -
"Hast denn das Säcklein auch bei dir?"
Ich sprach: "Das Säcklein, das ist hier;
Denn Äpfel, Nuß und Mandelkern
Essen fromme Kinder gern." -
"Hast denn die Rute auch bei dir?"
Ich sprach: "Die Rute, die ist hier;
Doch für die Kinder nur, die schlechten,
Die trifft sie auf den Teil, den rechten."
Christkindlein sprach: "So ist es recht;
So geh mit Gott, mein treuer Knecht!"
Von drauß vom Walde komm' ich her;
Ich muß euch sagen, es weihnachtet sehr!
Nun sprecht, wie ich's hierinnen find'!
Sind's gute Kind, sind's böse Kind?

(Theodor Storm)

Hamlet

this is a review I wrote for school, but i thought i might as well stick it in here too:

" Something is rotten in the state of Denmark " (Act 1, Scene 4) it did not take long for this suspicion to arise in most upper school students. But don’t worry, we are not referring to the modern constitutional monarchy, but are transferring ourselves back in time to the well known crime scene: the king dead, his wife remarried ere two months have passed and the grown child in a state of confusion and despair. Something is truly not right there…

Last Thursday, the 11th of November, the upper school had the privilege of having the Cambridge University European Theatre Group come to ISS to perform Shakespeare’s Hamlet. Instead of scribbling and answering questions, learning, pondering about the upcoming weekend or whatever the usual class routine is, we all assembled in the Aula to see the exclusive performance.
Hamlet is one of the most famous Shakespearean tragedies. The insanity of the Danish prince Hamlet, ending with the death of nearly all the characters is a well-known drama. Even if it often is reduced to the famous lines "To be, or not to be: that is the question" (Act 3, Scene 1), Hamlet is much more than that. We were able to witness and discover a story of love, death, friendship, betrayal, revenge, misunderstanding and unlucky coincidence.

The play, despite the unusual old language, was remarkably easy to follow, even for those that had not bothered glancing at a synopsis beforehand. Loud scenes, such as exciting sword fights, arguments or creative use of stage props grasped the audience’s attention. Most notable were the water tank scenes; a clear favourite. What happened?, The water tank was used in order to show Hamlet’s arousing madness and unwillingness to listen to Polonius. Hamlet read and fooled around in his see-through water filled tub, which was to be the later grave of Ophelia. At her death scene, a twelfth grader at the back actually wanted to jump up and save the poor drowning girl (the actress of course was not really drowning).

The quieter, thoughtful scenes triggered to empathize with the inner conflicts of the protagonist. The confused look in his eyes, full of ardour, whilst staring at the candle was priceless. Ophelia by contrast seemed rather two-dimensional. Her initial attitude could have been more lively and happy. Her change as a result of Hamlet’s degrading mental stability and Hamlet’s rejection of her love could have been depicted more finely. But here the different approaches to interpretation come to conflict. Has Ophelia been perhaps portrayed this way on purpose?

Like detectives ISS was guided through the maze of plots of assassination, inner conflict and more death, true to the motto: “All that lives must die“ (Act 1, Scene 2). The initial suspicion of something being wrong was proved to be correct in more than one aspect, but whether death is really the ultimate answer, that remains the question.

:D

i get to dance the first tournament! i have a first position!!!! :D:D:D
now i just need to keep it that way

help!!!!

ahhhhh what the hell is happening???? im failing dismally at school. why?????? how come??????
I got a four in chemistry!!!!!!! but i know how to ******* do it!!!!!!! i just didnt answer the questions as well as i shoud have...a 4????? hääääää???

i need advice because im close to a heart attack, becoming depressed and suicidal. jsut advice on how to get rid of that shtty grade...and i wrote german today and i dont think that was any better...but...but...but thats not really ....good

maybe i shouldnt go for medicine after all...

:,(

shoecreamhair

yesterday, saturday was a special day for me: my first performance of our routine which I was allowed to dance! so after the usual 4 hours of training, the guys had leave to go and get food or coffee or glühwein from the christmas market, while the girls had a quick shower and then started up preparations. there were around 4 stations: hair, face, body and everything else. every girl had to go through every one of them and tehy all took their time. I did the face amkeup first: first a brown base, then the fake eyelashes when I was told to open my eyes I tried opening them but it didnt work. my eyes seemed stuck! but luckily they werent, it was the awkwardness of the eyelashes that got my eyes to defy obedience in that instance. then the rest of the makeup. then came the body. it was an all over bodypaint with one colour: brown (tan actually) and seriously, it went everywere. then i did the hair. first soem gel and tons of hsirpins, then some fake extra hair (yes even with me) and lastly some...shoecream. aparently this is the safest and best method to get hair black and to stick and stay in form without damaging it too much. awkward but it works, and my hair seems to have survived it.


the two times we danced the routine was awesome. the concentrated warming up, the crispy team spirit- unforgettable and truely unique. It all worked out well too and for the first time i knew i had a good reason to smile without feeling like a complete ideot.

snow

as I hurried out to the train station early saturday morning (yesterday), an odd difference ccured to me: it was colder, and wetter than usual. somehow the world seemed to be covered in a crust of fluffy powder sugar. I kickstarted my brain and realised the signs my brain registered pointed to only one plausible diagnosis: it had snowed. (the picture is the view out my window right now: its still snowing)

for me, snow is really pretty to look at. and rather fun to play with, but actually a real pain: your pants et wet, your shoes get wet, your nose and eyelashes freeze, nad if somebody happes to manage to get the stuff down your shirt, got inside and wait for 3 minutes and you wil feel like having peed yourself. not fun. especially when snow gets older and dirty and yellow and slushy it hits the height of nastyness. no snow like that is not cool.

snow actually only is cool fr skiing, but as im not allowed to do that anyhow this year...

on the other hand, snow means something completely different to otehr people. i know pragathi saw her first snow here in stuttgart. i remember the time and everytime afterwards when we were sitting through some more or less boring class when the while crystals started to fall. pragathis eyes almost popped! they were glued to the window and as soon as the bell had ung there was no keeping her inside despite my groanings of ow horrible snow actually was. but i must agree, snow is beautiful and i am pampered with seeing at least a 5cm load every year so that i dont even notice what other people miss out on.

sunday morning

everything is quiet. my favourite radio station plays calm music. you seem to have all the time in the world for yourself, to do what you want to do and wht you need to do: homework, emails, reading, or just lying in bed feeling the pull on muscles the training on saturday has caused.

I love i when my parents are not up yet. it is a productive time if you need to get things done. an hour or two later that has completely changed. breakfast, washing, cleaning and all felt five seconds, the horrific "JULIAAAAAAA" which always means that i have to drop everything i am doing hurry to my parents to find out that the house is NOT burning, but that I have left a trivial thing as a sock or a plate 2 meters away from its prefered final destination. to me very annoyin and counterproductive if i want to do something like an essay.

what else does sunday bring? it the only day of the week where i can somewhat sleep in (yes getting up at 8:30 is sleeping in for me, early as that sounds). I have training in a couple of hours time. hopefully the B formation hasnt spoiled the mood of the trainer. but before that all my homework is due-the reason for getting up so early so that i can still utilise the productive wave of the morning.

chemistry here I come...slow but steady

boah wie geil!!!!!!!!!!!!!

i came home. i debated for 3 hours, i made a scene--- (yes i cover my face with shame but i achieved my goal in the end) and i went to bremen with my mum to see the german championship o standard and latin formation.

what can i say?? very cool.

very pretty

very awesome

...
freaking daym awesome!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I dont know which was best: latin or standard- latin is the more exciting definately, but nothing can top the ludwigsburg standard formation- it simply is top: the music, the choreo, the dresses, the level of accuracy and the complexity. it accellerates you heartbeat, it glues your eyes to it, it gives you a mouthdrop, it moves you stomach.

starting with the entrance "crown" over the spins to the everything: simply top. if you get to see it do nto miss your chance, its only half as good on youtube but the link currently is at the side: do take the time its worth it.


to the latin: GGC bremen a obviously won, but Velbert was pretty close. velbert was accurate, bremen had a few line mistakes, but more of the "yeah" feeling of power and expression: of selling it. a very fast choreo, very difficult with very good technique i envy them for.

the drama was so worth it. the lack of sleep was so worth it. the unfinished hw was SO worth it! the tournament ended shortly after 2400, the bus drove off between 0030 and 0100. i was in lubu at 0800 and home 0900 and in bed at 1000 :p even though i slept on the bus, an hour on "hatdude", until he had to get off to visit his parents that live in northern germany, another few hours on bench and the remaining hours on david, a fairly well cushioned guy of my formation.

...this morning (monday thus school) i felt as though kicked in the tomach by a donkey xD but it was SO worth it!

MUNOM

another mun has passed by.

munom is always special, being right after my birthday, it is something like my birthday present and party in one. it is not only the most organized but also the most formal mun i have ever went to (with most definately the best food).

my committee was awesome. almost entirely frst timers, but what a committment! eerybody spoke, everybody thought with the reso, even though not always, but enough to put the chair in a position where encouragement is not necessary. however the quality of debate lacked accordingly- the first reso that passed was rather weak and did not make that much sense (due to contradicting clauses etc and a clause that was rather racist (but unnoticed by the committee). in these cases its always hard to stay neutral as a chair, but i manage. likewise the second reso was rather weak, but better, and was mainly tipped by the amendment stating that nuclear energy should be implemented- you cant just state that liek theat without further explaination and elaboration. also i dont think the committee was fully aware of all the implications and problems with nuclear energy to have the full picture, so i forgive them but can understand the GA for not passing the reso. the third reso was actualy the best. but as my deputy chaired it, i msut sadly say i was way to lazy to fully anc critically read through it. thus i dont want to give an opinion as it wouldnt be the most objective and best explained i can give.

m deputy was also really nice. i cannot complain at all. jan is a talented chair, still a bit quiet, but i could trust him to run a good debate and explain procedure where this was necessary. when he chaired i of course looked on a bit but soon i noticed he is fully competent by himself- plus a very nice guy to talk to and hang out with- very useful :)
the other person sitting next to me in the GA, deputy of GA1, julian also was great, i got along with him really well and also made friends wiht him. really hope to see these two promising deputies again sometime.

back to committee. i know im a strict chair. i like it quiet, though i dont mind note passing about random things as long as there is a good debate going on. but i also do some cool stuff, like allow silly amendments once in a while when they get proposed and everybody is sleeping, or doing a mock debate on a topic like limiting rights of women right at the end, and having a laugh at the outrageous resolution.

lastly i didnt get to chair the GA, nor did i get to do any cool things the last day, ut it gave me tme to write my awesome presidential report (i ifled at it for hours cuz i dint have anyhtign better to do) listen to debate, and chat with my two neighbours.

munom as always was a very cool conference. i again saw almost nothing o the town, and this time also didnt like tha party as much as the year before- but it still was heaps of fun and very cool (no luckily no points :).
definately worth missing a week of school for this- see you next year, as PGA? PSC? PSpecial conference?

anecdotes of london: new and old

sorry i have been busy (very as you will see in future blog enterances) and thus unable to write since. but now it is time for a last london entry: the saturday.

I woke up packed my bad, went for the usual unspectacular breafast of toast and coffee (...sleep is no excuse for the lack of coffee xD). then to my surprise, i got the phonecall i was hoping for- my 9th grade english teacher mr. kelly (mr.k) called. he now lives in london, and i have kept in contact with him since- needless to say he is a really good teacher, a phenomenal PP supervisor and a truely nice person. as meeting up earlier did not work out, he was eager to meet me now that i coincidentaly was in his new hometown. so an hour later i had an appointment at russel square tube station.

i ran of to do some last minute shopping with my mummy at the awesome oxford street and came about 5 mins late finding my ex teacher waiting for me, his nose of course stuck in a book- an english teacher what can i say? the meeting was sort of surreal, short and compact telling the almost 2 last years in a few hours- from pp, to teacher battles to pragathi and the rest of the school, to school politics to my first impressions of IB and the world and everything in general.

we had coffee in the british museum, passed the uni of london, a really cool bookstore and got lost in the small streetlets of bloomsbury, which mr. k actually should know better by now ;).

lastly mr. k took my mum and me to the briish library where they had an amazing collection of old books- the gutenberg bible(!) mozart and beethoven and hayden...manuscripts (!!!) chinese acupuncture atlases of a couple of hundreds yeas of age, shakespeare, diaries and logbooks of discoverers- wow! a priviledge to have seen these documents, even tough its "just" paper. and of course as always a pleasure to have a mini lecture on shakey and his first and second editions and authenticy questions.

at this moment i must restate my gratitude of being priviledged witht he couple of hours of mr. k's time- it was a pleasure, if you read this, hope to see you in future- london is a phenomenal city, be sure ill be there again sometime in future.

i completely forgot to take photos. i know prags that you are waiting for them, but my batteries were out- and i was a bit shy to ask for a picture and go through the trouble of changing them. no pics of mr. k, but its the memory that counts isnt it? (plus ill drag you to london sometime if you have the money to transprt around half the world).

anecdotes of london: promenades

london is the perfect city for detouring. the streets rage from narrow and cornered via big shopping streets to humongous places and of course the riverside promenade at the thames. its a dream of a cty for detour lovers. for those people like me that enjoy getting lost in a city and discovering strange corners and simply finding your way around. london is super for that. you can get lost and fid yourself all over again 500 times, and that in each suburb. even resients have proven to be in need of maps in order to get from a to b and still get lost all the time (right mr. k ;) .
i usually went detouring with my mum after museum closure. usually it wa already dark so the picture are in bad light, but that doesnt matter does it?

southbank
this part of town is on the southside pf the thames river. it hold the aquarium, the london eye, the national theatre, the globe the tate modern etc. a wonderful place to hae an everning stroll at, to find an ad hoc exhebition or free concert. it must also be a dream for running. instead of dong the half hour warm up jog in the ajacent fields, id so much prefer running from the millenium bridge to big ben to keep fit. maybe it doesnt hve the best air in downtown london, but it msut be a run that ever gets boring. plus you have an amazing view of the city.

soho
on one of our strolls up from th national gallery tring to find some sort of food, we came to little china (my mum was thrilled to bits and amazed at the masses of chinese apothecaries) and finally through soho. while i attribute the rest of london with a bright brick red, soho is more of a dark brown, if not black. it is full of small dubious restaurandts and shops. a dream to get lost in, even though im not sure its all that safe.

This is bloomsbury at russel square. right next to the brtish museum

bank
our last walk brought me and my mum in to the region of the busy bees. highrise buildins containing box office after box office lined the skyline, in between, the old rests of roman ruins. so much to london being an organic city. this is the proof. pizza express in a 40 story building vs. half collapsed temple at its feet. wonderfull!

pictures coming later

anecdotes of london: art

>


london is full of art. from monet to da vinci, from medieval to the creme de la creme of modern art, from street grafitti and busking musicians to the royal ballett company. and I ahd a look at all of it.
v&a
tate modern
national art gallery
manon (ballett)
oedipus (theatre)

I came to london in the middle of my studies of wilde's novel the picture of dorian grey. I thus was full of the idea of art being beauty, no matter of what the means and effects are. I agreed but havign viited london I must expand on this idea. art, or at least good art creates emotion. it moves you inside, makes you happy and smile, appals you, angers you, makes you feel disgust or hate, shock or fear or simply adoration.these feelings can all be then interpreted as forms of beauty. no matter which emotion you have, as long as you have it and it si strong it is beautiful. but that might jsut be the interpratation of more than rich dandies of victorian brain that didnt know what else to do to spend their time with.

one thing i like doing in museums espeicially art gallerys is finding two or three favourite things and really having a good look at them. of course i look at the rest too but these to or three objects are things where my mind had this "wow" sensation. In the v&a that was some of the victorian dresses (but thats becuase of my pp).
in the tate modern it was a dali painting, and a room of contemporary art that used creative media, such as fake gems, stacks of wrting paper that were carved in or fabric to create a picture. then there was another room of austrian exhebitionists that pushed the limits. where does art start? where does it end? and especially, how far can you go? some austrian artists explored these questions in quetionable, revolting and disgusting ways that at the same time are intriguing and creative in a desturbing way.
in the national gallery it was, of course impressionistic and port impressionistic painting. renoir, gaugin, monet, degas moving into klimt. I adore it! it is there but it isnt. the scene is not only painted as previously but "half chewed" it is destorted through use of texture and colour leaving ou to guess why and how and what, while still making the object of art clear and creating a beautiful painting.
the saatchi gallery was full of contemporary stuff. the best i have seen in a long time. it makes you think and reflect on society implies the outrageous but again only that what we should hear and listen to in order to get better and make our life here on earth sustainable. my fave:

my favourite again depicts waterlillies and the reflection of a tree in a pond. It uses blotches of bright red for the flowers a harmonic green and blue for the rest. these paintings make me happy, jsut as debussy music does. I cannot resist a slight smile (even if only on the inside in case im in a bad mood) if seeing them).
manon. ballet. bringing across a story jsut through bodylanguage and expression and aestetics. incredibly hard, but beautiful nonetheless. ballett is definately not somethign to be laughed at. it is difficult as hell as it askes complete body tension and control, and is aestetic pure. from first love to jealousy to death. the dancers and music can bring across anything, if you are not stunned out of your wits by the amazing pirrouettes, jumps and poses.

last but not least theatre. this is easy, everybody has cried during a movie. theatre is just the same, jsut live, thus wiht more tension. oedipus, one of the first tragedies, is katharsis in perfection. the suffering and pain of your fate culminating at one point in midday when all shadows and uncertainities fall, grips the audience. any hopes of a good ending crumble and you empathise with the protagonist and his suffering- it is a horrid emotion but still art- people come out of the theatre snivelling and with red eyes saying how good it was.

my favourite sculpture in the british museum:

art in london is superb. if you need you art tank tanked go there, you can find a heap for nothign (just the price of a tube ticket to get there or of hurting feet) and a whole pile more if you are willing to pay a tad, or a heap of money. but im realyising it doesnt only have to be london. I realised i have a world class ballett right at my doorstep and more than enough good opera, drama, concerts and in worst case cinema to go with it. no excuse eh?

anecdotes of london: the tube

after leaving heathrow, which was as far as I had ever gotten to uk soil previously, I first commuted down what seemed to be and endless escalator to the british ubahn, the tube. after mastering the first hurdle, getting tickets and realising that there was only one possible train to take (yes makes things easy!) I found myself faced with a tiny wormlike almost round metal thing racing around london uderground at horrendous speeds. the seas werent arranged in groups of 4 a i was used to , but in two rows facing each other. it took me some minutes to get used to all this, figure out that the tunnel was barely 10 cm larger than the tube (for it really is a tube) and to get comfortable with the mode of trasport. now, after a week of daily use, it has become my friend. I find it cute, cuter than the already cute stuttgart ubahns and of course very very useful.

anecdotes of london: intro

the following couple of posts are going to (hopefully) be a series of encounters i have had during my trip in the capital of what used to be the city. the city of the empire, that controled more than a third of the landmass of the globe- of which they collected raided and stole (so to speak) everything and even more pretty valuable and of historical cultural and artistic importance.
I got out of the tube station and I knew: i was going to fall in love with city. it does not have the simple elegance of berlin or paris, nor the stuffy and warm culture cluster of rome. london is different, london is red. If you are anywhere in the london downtown area, especially in bloomsbury where i was most of the time, you feel the atmosphere streets have if they ahve been trodden out not only by the ruler of an architect and a few hundreds of cars, but of millions and millions of people and hundreds of generations of them that conrtibuted to make london what it is: a long story short, london has atmosphere.
It is impossible to write everythign in here that i did and saw even though i love to, but i fear id still be typing tomorrow then, so i hope i can sum it up in the little details touching me most.

tagein tagaus

usually blogs are there to write the extraordinary in them, but what happens if there is nothing extraordinary or noteworthy enough to write in a blog? then you commence to write on the daily pains and gains of life, that come to an equilibrium anyways. just that you have an idea what happens if you hear nothing:

I wake up quarter to seven every morning. sometimes a bit earlier because i want to shower sometimes a tad later becase i cant move myself out of bed. then i rush to get ready and transport myself to the uban station, which is between 2-5 minutes away, the 5 minutes being normal waking distance, the 2 minutes being the time i usually make it in ;)

the schoool. some days are more paining some less, some enjoyable. IB classes are different because you better pay attention. youre not going to regurgitate through the same stuff over again for the next 4 weeks, so if you miss out its up to you to ask a friend or grab your textbook afterwards. no "sleeping" possible- apart from TOK (what a useful subject).

I am enjoying all my classes, the ones standing out are my engish history and bio classes. especially the last two are stdy and learn intensive, but that at least makes them straightforeward. the english class on the other hand is probably the most fun an IB class can get while still staying on topic and doing what is necessary.

The amoung of free periods is awkward. i do hoework in them or go home extra early. no detours this year (with whom???), just a small excursion to the library once a month (like today) to catch up with my account and overdue books. timewise it really is ok. I wouldnt have needed to turn my life over as much, but now that I did i dont want to go back to stuffed julia again. who knows, maybe something worthwile and great will cross my way and give me my third full time job soon? I have the urge to do more, btu am lazy at the same time.

after school i dont do anything for about 2 hours. yes its a waste of time, but i havent really had time to let my brain air itself during schooltme for the past 2 years. it makes my whole studystyle inefficient but who gives? as long as i get along. i play a bit of piano, i sometimes watch my favourite daily soap on telly (im watching tv, thats a first), and have long msn and telephone conversations with friends. then sometimes at night i finish the homework i havent got done with during school time.
and thats a typical day during the week, as it was today. not too exciting. not too busy. not too noteworthy.


PS: i really should get my life back?! i mean the concept of living each day as if it was your last is getting lost here?! hmm...

sonnet 3

rays of the last sunshine touch the ground
the winter is moving, which it cannot defeat
unexpected and unintended truth slowly is found
at last the pilgrims' holy hands do meet

a gentle whisp of breeze, a motionless caress
seconds sketch a path in the nutshell
no sign of initiative, its all too hard to confess
savouring the fleeting presence for it does not dwell

sin from thy lips? o tresspass sweetly urged! give me my sin again.

thoughtless actions switch on the slumbring mind
if anything is wrong the sun ill always find

the scarf

today I wore my orange scarf- my brown big feel good trousers some cuddly pullover and a huge fat cotton orange (and rather unfitting i must admit) scarf. scarfs are practical! they keep your throat warm and are thus a good prophilaxis against some nasty throat bug. they look decent enough not to be thrown into the box of fashion suicidals and they are quick and universal- oh your cold? wrap it around 2, 3 times et voila.. cuddly!

I like scarves, so do other people. there seems to be a real scarf epidemic floating round school. it is my personal suspicion and theory of conspiracy that it actually was noriske who started it, he has a real history of scarfiness, but it could have sprung up out of any other center of inflammation: mary has a white and blue scarf, charlotte and alice keep to the good old palistinian scarf, phillippa has her plaid pragathi given scarf and norisuke- his scarfs are almost historical, the godfather of scarfiness.

ducks, flowers, plaid, patterns, unicoloured, paisley printed, long, short, norisuke seems to own a scarf for all lebenslagen. my current favourite is however his grey duck scarf. it matches his blue duck vest/sweater like piece of clothing and gives evidence for his infailable (?) sense of style. in other words he looks like my grandfather. (sorry norisuke, we still love you for it!).

but yet, charlotte owns the only missing link in the impeccable collection of knitted strips of clothing- the berühmt berüchtigte flower scarf. it is perfect, long, cuddly, effeminate, the missing button in the waistcoat of scarfs of nurisukes closet...

i myself have reduced myself to plain orange, a bizarre colour in my wardrobe i must admit, but its something handy because its warm, i know it will never fit no matter what im wearing, and the whole schools scarfed up enough not to notice anyways.

now what?

I know I can dance a first position. I dont have all the basics or the permanent smile tatooed to my face yet but until the first tournament in january I know I can make up for that, given, of course, I have a good dacne partner:
bördi is taken by olga, thats for sure, so is micha and chrissi, and martin and mary. thats 3 out of 8. david? a tad small and with dani. simon? melly! rené with saskia, shes also new but the daughter of a dance teacher...shes much more experienced than me. chris he could possibly be free,(well he dances with pamela and i dont think she is bad. but hes also new to the programme even though he has danced formation before at another club. and then theres "my" jürgen. well not really "my" anymore.
so where does that leave me? second position.

yesterday daced well. at least the one durchgang with jürgen, where i could actually smile because I felt happy, and not because I had to dance. he lets me down to my full potential in the splits (the floor) and the lankenaus were no problem, and the whole choreo worked, despite that i had never danced half of it on "position".
I dont know how it will change but i want it to, even though i know i wont be happy with anything but jürgen, hard as it sounds...and the other guys that are good already pretty much have fixed girls with them. humpf...grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

the cookie you're not allowed to eat

today 8 hours training, tomorrow the same. sunday the same. yesterday 3 hours training.
thats how like is like if your part of a formation dance team at a renomated club like me, even though its only the C formation.

I came there a complete beginner i almost wasnt taken at the try out, but i seem to have improved. I can dance the complete choreography, I do it without all too many insecurities. I can do most the difficulties- lankenau, roundabout no problem, so my trainers saw that and pushed me thereafter. I got a good dance partner, jürgen, who, even though the age difference is enourmous, is a really good buddy and dances really well. I adore talking to him, and he seems to care enough that i can even load the shit on the day onto him and he'll bear me (yes that sometimes is rather challenging i understand that). I got pampered with a good and experienced dance partner that could help me through new parts, and my position decreasing from 3 to 2 girls on it. (less competition) and me being able to dance on first position occasionally...erm, usually.

today positions got rotated by the trainers again. and guess what. new dance partner, and second position. my dance partner now is rather the opposite: small, young, uninterresting to talk to, immature if you want to call it that way. as a person he still is ok, Im not as close to him as to my other dance partner, but i guess you dont have to be. but alone dance-wise hes not going to get me where i want to go. hes also a beginner, doing many things the first time, and beginner with beginner ends up in tragedy. i partially have to lead, because i get the steps quicker than him and thats a big nono. further i cant dance to my fullest, i cant go down all the way into the splits, even though with jürgen i can. my new dance partner doesnt "pick me up" again. i cant "use him" for stability or support (physical and mental), and i dont think my dancing would really improve with him.

why? the reason is a woman who used to dance last year, but when she wasnt allowed to move up a formation, she quit. or at least she said she did. but she came back 2 months later, probably after a glass of whine with the trainers and the demand for my, MY dance partner!!!!
I told her i dont like the change, but her reply was pretty close to "well tough luck then". well I guess thats what it is, but it doesnt change me being pretty pissed.

I was actually really looking foreward to seeing my dance partner again tomorrow, to finally really dance again (he had to work the whole time- hes a children's surgeon), but right now i cant even really look foreward to that either, becuase I know I wont really get to dance.

the wild horse

about a year ago i went to a volleyball team with the girls that used to make up my team. it was a wonderfull weekend, full of volleyball, games with other teams (grownups, so they really were a blast). and a snivelly nose because of a cold.

we got to know each other better, and developed a team spirit that is an absolute necessity in volleyball games. without a team spirit you dont play together, if you dont play together you dont play at all. if you dont like and know your team, you dont "feel" if your neighbour is going to get the ball or if its your tur, you dont know when to push the motivation button, or take measures to raise team morale, games even against easy teams are lost more quickly than you can blink.

so one dark and cold evening we came up with the glorious idea to give each other nicknames in form of animals that "fit". beate, the middlefielder got the name squirrel because shes fast, never tired and can run for hours over hours. there also was the seal, frog? and i dont remember the rest. I got associated with the wild horse.

Im sporty and have endurance, im stubborn and i never give up (almost never). It is a fitting metaphor. just like cat in breakfast at tiffany's I seem to be a wild thing, i dont belong to anybody and nobody belongs to me, apart form the people i choose to share my life with. just like the romantic picture of the wild horse i need my liberty and freedom to do my thing, to stumble over my stepping stones and to go the way im supposed to go. Im weird in my way, but dont we all have something that defines us form the masses? I need people, but i sometimes need a little room to be on my own. nevertheless what i hate most is to be restricted in what i want to do and to achieve by other people, especially if i know that i can do it. maybe thats why Im a troublesome girlfriend to have.

my team has summed up what I see myself as, better than anybody else yet. due to dancing and me being born a year too early i cannot play with the girls this year, but that does not mean i have forgotten the great past seasons and experiences.

the studio

The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses, and when
the light summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden,
there came through the open door the heavy scent of the lilac, or
the more delicate perfume of the pink-flowering thorn.

From the corner of the divan of Persian saddle-bags
on which he was lying, smoking, as was his custom,
innumerable cigarettes,
The Lord could just catch the gleam
of the honey-sweet and honey-coloured blossoms of a laburnum,
whose tremulous branches seemed hardly able to bear
the burden of a beauty so flamelike as theirs;

and now and then the fantastic shadows of birds in flight
flitted across the long tussore-silk curtains
that were stretched in front of the huge window,
producing a kind of momentary Japanese effect,
and making him think of those pallid,
jade-faced painters of Tokyo
who, through the medium of an art
that is necessarily immobile, seek
to convey the sense of swiftness and motion.

The sullen murmur of the bees
shouldering their way through the long unmown grass,
or circling with monotonous insistence
round the dusty gilt horns of the straggling woodbine,
seemed to make the stillness more oppressive.

The dim roar of London
was like the bourdon note of a distant organ.

In the centre of the room,
clamped to an upright easel,
stood the full-length portrait of a young man
of extraordinary personal beauty,
and in front of it, some little distance away,
was sitting the artist himself, whose sudden disappearance
some years ago caused, at the time, such public excitement
gave rise to so many strange conjectures.

if you havent recognised it, this is the begining of one of my favourite novels, the picture of dorian grey, put into poetry form. this is what we did the past two or so english lessons, along with a nice and fluffy interpretation, all along the lines of homosexuality, drug abuse and victorian society.
Im noticing that my interpretation skills arent what they used to be. i dont seem to be able to dive into a text and pick up on everything noteworthy. but i listen and hopefully learn. all i can do is try, and ill do lots of that...

my first german interpretation essay gave me my worst grade so far. a 5. pretty much the same with history, if not worse. probably my bio lab im supposed to write right now is going to follow the pattern.

never gone

dedicated to all the victims of the delhi blasts that occured today

one moment it's here,
the other, it's gone!
you think you saw it there,
but then you're all alone.

living life for today,
round the corner with happiness
the jade bird flies away
feeling no more but no less.

Wonder where the mirror is?
Will it show dark or light
or will it rain all the time?
or reflect the stars tonight?

the sunshine blithe on my face
the dewdrops twinkle on the lawn
the warm glow of paradise
maybe, it's the start of a new dawn...

schoolsickness

what is it with school and being sick?!

all through last winter ive been snivelling my way through corridors, choking my raw voice by trying to produce the answer to the teacher's question, and treating myself with chocolate, tea, and chinese healthy stuff, as well as acupuncture, if annoyance levels rise to the maximum.

nevertheless, colds usually have their season around november, where winter really comes and surprizes you with its icy touch as you wait for your ubahn half asleep in the morning, or in february, when you think its warm, and all hyped up for summer, just to find out you have made a grave misjudgement.

but what have i done wrong. its barely below 20°C, as usual, and im sitting here stuck at home (with no homework, cuz i did that in my freeperiod) not able to go to my dance training becuase of my pathetic throat and nose and giant headache (which i strongly urge not to be fever). it must be school sickness...it must! i have no other explainiation. i got out of school monday (third day of school), with a nose like a tap. I went home, did my pile of homework diligently, went to bed... and couldnt sleep the third night in a row. (ok maybe that was it).
tuesday: i was so happy i could go home at 1240, which i happily did after a rather pathetic day, where i had to go into full concentration mode to realise i had a lesson going that i probably needed to remember in a year and a halfs time. My brain fealt like wrapped in a rather large and lumpy piece of felt, my nose was a continuous tap (even worse than on monday) and i had an essay test and maths test (81%, better than some people in the higher class, im taking SL, but FULL of stupid stupid stupid mistakes!!). I schlepped myself home. I slept. I woke up, and saw CSI (coincidental, but better than schlager music or whatever else was on) and went back to sleep.

wednesday i felt better, today even better, but its so annoying! im happy i didnt already start my record of missed days, which would rather limit me (mun etc), still this cold thing is worrysome. I dont already want to begin my this years bacteria and virus marathon in september.

dont you just.....

HATE it??

yes I have school again. my 8 weeks of peace and freedom- die ruhe vor dem sturm- is over.

and great 8 weeks or so they were. full of peace------ and joy------and happyness-----and doing nothing...well, er, my definition of nothing. and now im slightly pampered and dont want the stress nor the workload. not to mention my excitement of seeing all my favourite teachers and people again. (pragathi, you know whom i mean...)

why? could just go on in my beloved hospital, where i have spent the past 2 weeks, zipping in and out of operations, asking holes into doctors stomaches and poking holes into litte grannies who cannot defend themselves or hide in time.

i must admit im rather cynical about the upcoming year. i dont see a lot of bright specks in it, unless I have mr garvey for my HL bio that is. but it already starts with the class trip. it starts on my bfs birthday (bad sign), and to salzburg and the chiemsee. in comparison to earier fieldtrips thats about as unspectacular as a pea in a vergetabe soup. then mrs martin being the ib coordinator is also somewhat a surprize, but when coming to think of it, she does have enough experience with ib i think. i dunno ill see in acouple of weeks if shes any good (she is as a music teacher dont get me wrong). at least the scheckschrauben mr. b and mr. w are off for good.

and abt the rest, well the worst are gone, admin wise and the best are gone too, student and staff wise. im in a class of 17, with phillippa not being in it *grrrrrrr* but for that a couple of other girls...im not too optimistic but hey its not like i have a choice. and in any case ill be in shanghai or somewhere like that with my best friend in a couple of years time anyways. that, and medecine uni is always something to look foreward to.

siebenbürgen

ill never get this post done even thouh i have wanted to write it that past week. thus il start and add as i go along. sorry about the bad qualty of writing, but i jsut want to get it down...im doindg anotehr internship in myospital as im going along by the way, which explains the tiredness and lack of time.

siebenbürgen-the name sais it seven castles- sieben Burgen. they mean the cities, honigberg, kronstadt hermannstadt birthelm, schäßburg, bistritz, and another town i cannot remember, named after the churches with four towers attached to them a symbol of self government.

its an old settlement. the fist people came in 1200, by the wish of the hungarian king. but many, especially in other ares-burzenland, banat etc came later.

f you see a romanian map. youll be surprized as you wont see any town i have wrtten above. but those are only the german names .they also have romanian ones, and someties hungarian. because the area was a true mix of cultures, religions and minorities. but it worked.



a picture of the town i stayed in first- mediasch. my mum visited upper school here, very close to the church (Kirchenburg). the schools used to be owned by the churches. and believe it or nto, religion played a major role, even hough my granparents and parents arent that religious.
i attended church on sunday though. it was so different, though the same branch. the pastor sung most of what he said. monotone usually, with raising or lowering the pitch at the end of a phrase. i found it very beautful to listen to. and less boring. the dress was also different. rather medieval, with silver stripy things along the chest. i cant describe it really, you have to have a picture. the songs were also all different, i didnt recognise one of them, and not becuase i almost never go to church here. they smply were different, and usually harder to sing (for a church song which never is hard to sing). i also paritcipated in the abendmahl, which i am allowed to do, having had my konfirmation. it was, as always, this papery read representing stuff, but real wine. after you got the bread you went arond the altar to receive the wine. very strange to me. but it has more of a ceremony to it as it is done in germny. i think here the church wants to adapt to modern times. instead its making me fall asleep. id be much more of a church fan (doesnt mean im mre religious) if i were to be able to attend church in siebenbürgen.

we had cremesch, something my granny is the ultimatie expert in baking, as well as eclairs and savarine, a romanian speciality- also sweet and calorie loaded, in the bakery my mum used to run to as a kid after school had ended, as a treat of survival.

...too tired to be continued

A mix-up of languages;

Yet again, I was sitting in English class wondering how to pass my time, when I though it would be a good idea to refresh my German. This poem is no linguistic masterpiece and the grammar is appalling, but bear with me.

dear prags, I am compelled to do a tad of correction even though i think what you wrote puts it rather nicely :) i hope you dont mind. -julia

Sie sagt, und sie spricht,
Interresiert das, gar nicht.
Schade, denkt meine Freundin,
Wann kommt sie, und wohin?

Jeder Donnerstag und Samstag,
Sie kommt aber mag es nicht,
Der Junge, der erste, weint,
Es regnet aber der Sonne scheint (nicht).

Alle sind in einer Traumwelt,
Spielen, Fernsehen oder im Campingzelt.
Aber wenn es nach draußen geht,
Alle denken, Scheiße, das ist mein ‚fate’…

a rendez-vous between mr. buda and mrs. pest

the walls of the second largest church in hungary showed off with marble, green, red, white, another shade of green, not to forget the countless altars and domes, intricately ornated with gold. a beautiful large church. i have a thing for large churches, even though im not really considering myself as religious. i adore the peace, the largeness and richness that characterises places of worship-it must mean the world for people to build such structures.

i looked around my eyes bulging, as they probably are supposed to be.my parents were far off discussing some historical nitnat with a friend of my dads wo coincidentally is a tour guide. i felt guilty of committing innumeral crimes or at least small cheekynesses daring to touch the stone pillars and walls, trying to feel the lush colour on the polished surface.

suddenly i hear a sound. church music, baroque? early baroque, almot medieval but not so coarse, in four part harmony, a capella.
i snigger inside. surely some loudspeaker to create a "nice" atmosphere for the tourists, and i ignore it. it grows louder and louder, rises and falls in innumerable harmonies of perfect fifths. im irritated. no loudspeaker can do something like that. and i beginn to let my eyes wander, along with my feet, over frescos, more gold, benches, the front. no choir is practicing. loudspeakers? i look again. no loudsspeakers. people, tourists! spread across the church around the benches (which you cant go to), and singing. im amazed, and happy. happy that hungarians havent sunken into the pit of cheap touristy things which spoil more than they help, and happy somebody wold simply go in the church and sing. and sing amazingly well at that.

the choir is a mixture of types. young old, some people my age, some my mums, soprano to deep bass. the harmony is perfect not one peron a tad off. the dynamics well rounded and clearly polished. I stand at the back and listen, and listen and listen.

the sun dazzells me as i walk out. it is afternoon, i have learned that the people were a church choir on tour, touring where i was heading, siebenbürgen. they tried ot the acoustics to see what they were like. well, they were pretty amazing. out of the one day of budapest, this was the most memorable experience. its a beautiful city, very "viennese" in architectural style, with beautiful buildings, weird road ways and a great free concert.

Degree Dilemmas

The day came and went when I had to choose the subjects I would be studying, the subject choice that would largely influence my future career. In India competition has risen faster than the rising sea levels. In a land of billion people, not everybody gets what they deserve. For this reason, I have been swamped with a library of text books that I am supposed to read, understand and finally put into some use – the use being getting good grades, getting into a good college and then getting a good job (and needlessly saying this, getting a good salary). This seems to be the order of the day. Almost everybody in my section, which is the Electronics section (Subjects: English, 2nd language, Physics, Chemistry, Maths and Electronics), wants to be an engineer of some sort or the other.

Gone are the carefree days, when one dreamed of becoming a pilot, astronaut, singer, cricketer or being less fanciful, a teacher. There are only handfuls in this land that pursue what they want to do the most – most of them end up having tragic stories in the end. The rest, like it or not, are forced to dwell in the misery of a wrong career choice. Well, joining the club of the potential professionals, I have decided to do engineering. One, because I don’t want to do medicine – 10 years of study asks too much persistence of me and don’t want to stand on my parents’ feet so long. Second, I am dead determined to chase my journalism dream. After 4 or 6 years (even if I want to do a post-graduate degree or an MBA course) in college, I can still take the mighty ‘risk’ of studying journalism.

It’s simply amazing how the top brains in the country are mostly in engineering. The lack of proper doctors and people in other service sectors is being reflected blatantly in our lifestyles. Recently, an infant declared stillborn by the nurses, defeated death and kicked back to life 7 hours later. Apparently, if the nurses had tried to revive the baby soon after birth, it would have been fine, instead of lying in the ICU and battling for its life. But like a sticky mush-mush of Bollywood masala, it gasped to life a while before the funeral. It’s a shame that students are forced to opt out of medicine for reasons of low salaries, insecure jobs and long working hours. In Stuttgart, my doctor worked at the most from 9 in the morning to half past five in the evening, with shorter days on Saturday and holiday on Sunday. Here doctors slog so hard, that invariably they need treatment themselves. It’s 24x7 work. No wonder, so few want to get muddled up in the world of white coats and stethoscopes.

The shortage of teachers is another worrying thing. India has a current shortage of about less than a million teachers. With a literacy rate looming below 70%, teachers are becoming the need of the hour. An experienced schoolteacher in the best school probably gets as much salary as a starter software engineer. Teachers carry on their shoulders the vital responsibility of education the next generation of the country’s people, but it is a pity how little importance it is given.

Well, there we go. That’s life. Incidentally, more engineers pass out of India’s engineering colleges, than Germany’s entire workforce. The choice has been done, sealed, packed, slapped into a plastic lunch box and sold. So much for having the right of choice…

pragathi

The Idiot Box?

I come back home at 8:00 from my coaching classes, hoping fervently that the TV will be free for me as I gobble up the delicious dinner that my Granny has made for me. Well, the TV is free and I rejoice; but only for a second. Soon, I am to discover that what you find on the idiot box is a few soap operas where people seem to fall in love, marry and divorce several times in their lifetime (just like Hollywood couples), a comatose patient who was out of the soap for two years has just woken up to discover himself old, his children married and his wife snuggling up another man or a house full of conspiring saas-bahus (mother-in-laws and daughter-in-laws).

Next you see King Khan of Bollywood, Shah Rukh Khan, testing a few dim-witted contestants whether they can answer 5th standard questions while he advertises his films by dancing to their songs on the quiz floor quite ridiculously with the participant.

Playing with the remote control a little more, you might witness a handful of well-dressed young talents trying to be the most popular and The BEST on the Indian version of American idol or the several other similar kinds of talent search shows. Actually some of them aren’t even fit for bathroom singing.

Before long, you hear the news of a blast or a stock-market crash being aired on every other channel (Seriously, I fail to understand why you need three dozen news channels, when half a dozen can do the same job). The only thing watchable seems to be the sports channels, but even they don’t entertain as much when you have limited time and watch only 20 minutes of a 90 minute football match, that too in the slot when nobody even gets the ball near the goal posts.

What you end up seeing very so often is undressed actresses enticing you from foam-filled bathtubs promoting the latest of the fragrant soaps or the latest shampoo that will make your hair ‘sleek and shine’. So with a flick of the remote, I switch off the TV and wonder, what’s next?

pragathi

soundtrack of life

from:http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wX2pyKDAkV4/Rq3T7cyTyGI/AAAAAAAAAK8/zlx2Gwn2DjM/s1600-h/very_long_engagement_xl_04.jpg

take your time. this CD is nothing to rush through. It is neither rock nor dance nor reggae music. actually it isnt a part of pop culture at all, but a music soundtrack of the old sort.

The orchestra soares through melodies of longing. joy, throughtfullness and a melancholy that makes the movie it was taken from special: a very long engagement directed by jean-pierre jeunet. it is the perfect soundtrack for simply lying around, enjoying the creeps the music give you: a tingling down the spine, that almost automatically shuts your eyes and makes you think of people you adore, but that are far away. parts where the beginning bulging of a tear or two stings your eye and then the main melody which forces you to smile and forget the hectic of the moment.

the hovering balance between deep bass and light soprano creates a lugubrious atmosphere which only a full orchestra could create. it forces you to think and reflect but also to enjoy the moment: good company, a peck of peace, the changing landscape outside the car window.
It is not the best composition of all times, no, simply the fact that its movie music makes it seem a tad repeditive and lacking a main (active) part, but thats ok, because at the moment, the main part is what you do and think about.

A grand soundtrack for an even grander movie which will accompany me through many a melancholy and non melancholy moment.

Some experience huh...

It hits hard, deep inside. The shock, the fear and the tears – all in a second. You only know the feeling when you hear it – bomb blast. The pale faces, the trembling hands and more that anything FEAR stabs your heart when you hear that 9 bomb blasts have occurred, in your city in the places that you often visit.

We were in the middle of English class, listening to the soft voice of our English teacher in the background while all of us had our own conversations, when another English teacher ABN comes into the class without her usual ado and announces, “Everybody should go home. Something has happened in the city.” Well, as much as we like school, an early dismissal is always welcome and we packed our bags and raced out of class. But curiosity pricked our hearts, so we tried asking the teachers about the ‘something’ that had happened. But with ashen faces, the teachers hastened our descend to the ground floor. As we walked past the Chemistry lab, I saw the lab attendant holding a mobile and telling a group of 2nd years that there were bomb-blasts. When I told my classmates walking in front of, they laughed. 200 metres ahead a very scared parent told us that there have been 8 blasts in the city near Forum, off Richmond Road etc.etc. Forum is the most popular shopping mall in the city and it hit us hard. My friend literally turned white when she remembered that our friends were supposed to go to Forum.

Without thinking, I picked my cell, dialled home and asked my Granny where Mom was. I heaved a sigh of relief when she said that my mother had gone to pick up my sister from school. The relief was so great that, as much as I don’t feel like admitting, I burst into tears. As students staggered out of the college, each one thought, why Bangalore?

Even though only 2 people have died and few have sustained injuries and the police call it low-intensity blasts, the fear has ripped the hearts of a few Bangaloreans. I can’t imagine how anxious my Dad must have been when he called us from Jaipur on hearing about the blast. Telephone lines got jammed as everyone on the streets flipped their mobile phones to call their near and dear one to inform them that they were still in one piece. (That was some very bad humour there) Around every corner you hear the word ‘blast’. Life seems dreadful when you count up the number of ways you can end it, but I guess we are all here to only see the bright side of it. With a happy note, I end this post:

♫ Raindrops are fallin’ on my head
But that doesn’t mean my eyes will soon be turnin’ red
Cryin’s not for me
‘Cause I ‘m never gonna stop the rain by complaining ♪♪…

pop quiz

notice any difference?

Tit-bits

College Curios No.1

As much as the college authorities try hard to restrict the brining of mobile phones to school, they seem not to succeed. The students are always one step ahead. Some really have to bring it to school, like me for instance – my mother will get a heart attack if I don’t call her up after reaching college. Julia, you know the entire history and mystery about this. Some bring it to show off the latest brand of mobile while others bring it to impress people of the opposite sex (however thick the idea seems to be). Others are phone addicts who cannot pass even one Lunch break without the use of their precious communication device. Whatever, is the reason, there seem to be plenty of mobiles floating around the college campus invisible to the prying eyes of the demonic teachers. Anyway, getting back to yesterday’s incident, there were rumours that our bags will be checked for any unwanted things that were there. So a student collected all the cell phones and kept it in his vehicle for safeguarding. Much to our disappointment, there was no inspection, but it tested the limits of our intelligence!

College Curios No. 2

The two most feared and probably hated teachers in the college are PNK and Major. DMR. The former is an English teacher whose very predictable dialogue goes like – “Is this you bloody grandfather’s property? You think you can do what you like …” followed by whatever sin you have committed. His presence in itself commands respect and fear and makes chattering girls and boys walk silently in a line until out of his sight. Recently, a friend of mine ended up being the guinea pig for his rage. He screamed at her for nothing else other than the horrendous crime of raising the decibel level in the over atmosphere by about 10 db, by slapping her flip-flops on the concrete steps. As we slinked away out of sight to save our skins, we could hear her sobs in the distance. Such is the tragedy of PNK. DMR enters with a very familiar line – “I’ll make your liver shiver.” Major. DMR does end up doing that to you. Thankfully, for me, he takes Bio. which I have not chosen. He picks random people from the class and takes down their names and says something like – Submit your NCC forms (National Cadet Corps) form or elss……… Surely DMR and PNK must be some distant cousins (they even look similar you know, with the beer paunch…)

macedonia again, with pictures

shovelling.... again


roma shanty in a part of skopje




me and phillippa in some restaurant

is it fair?

on saturday when we went to skopje, me and phillippa met a girl that spoke almost perfect german. a rarity here, so we used the situation to have a chat about lifer here, how come she spoke german etc.

it turned out that she lived in germany for 9 years, through most of her schooling, in a little cvillage near frankfurt. it was clear she had loved germany, and had basically seen it as her own country. "i was german, i was only albanian on the paper and that was the problem".

when in 2004 the bundeskabinett issued a new rule concerning auslaender her whole life rotated 360 degrees before she knew what was going on. suddenlly one day the poliece was there, suddelnly she was at teh airport, adn then gone for good, into a new country she didnt identify with, new customs, rather new language and definately a different lifestyle. she said all her friends were there. she didnt know where to say goodbye first.

the girl, around 18 years old, now just gotten out of school and on a summer job, porbably to finance uni (germanistic studies) is rather tall, has a fashionable haircut,, bangs handing almost into her eyes, and an incredible makeup. enoufgh to be interresting, but enough to be decent. she tries to do her own thing here, but gleichberechtigung? no way she said. aparently there are parts of europe where women dont have the same chanxces are glareda at and goddiped about if they do her own thing by neighbours, people at school and even random people.

in german, the thing that happended to her is called "abschiebung", when the country decides they wont host you anymore if you are a minority form a different country. but if your family has fully adaped, has friends, secure jobs, language etc. i font it rather cruel to rip them out of their life and inot a "lesser" one, at least one with lesser opportunities.

then again the arguments from the state, you cannot have too many of a minority here, this is not a charity land.... which i can fully sympathise with too. even i sometimes get annoyed with "the turks", which have become a stereotype of cussing unadapting and violent people with their own language (a mix of everything) and a weird taste for hair and clothing, something like the modern good for nothing.

but here is an example of a girl that seems completely normal. the law already had upset me when it came out, and i was aware of what it must mean to some people, that are only looking for a better life, but meeting somebody, that was ripped out of everything that was normal into a country without h&m (almost unthinkable for the average teenager) at my age, that puts me into a dilemma of whom to agree with. statistics or my heart?

macedonian pets

once upon a time there was a little cockroach. he was black and about an inch long, and very proud of his length, as he was bigger than most cokroaches , even though he was not yet fully grown. he lived in the bathroom of the only hotel in twon. quite cozily between the broken tiles of the bathtub and the floor. here he had the perfect spot. the rubbish bin where all the nice food was presented to him like on a silver platter, was not far off, there was sufficient water to clean his shine exoskeleton and once in a while he would get a visit from the noce lady cockroahc from room 26, next door.

one of these days he became unlucky. again he found himself in one of those famous situations where you are simply at the wrong spot at the wrong time. he had just come from his evening walk to the bottom of the sink, perhaps to get a bite of food from the trash, when it happened. he had heard all the horror stories from his mum, but how horror stories have ti, he never believed any of them. the shadow had come. the shrieky shrill sounding shadow.

he tried to run, to hide, the toilet? the trash? anyplace just cover would do. but he wasnt fast enough. suddenly the shadow came closer. a gust of wind, a horrific pain.

the shoe had stomped him. my shoe had stomped him. i lifted my leg and realised that the white poulp smeared on the ground must be the intestines that had gushed out with the crunching noise of breaking bodyarmour. the feelers still were moing as i had to use the batheroom some 10 minutes later.

in the mornings it was gone. mrs jb went for ants, which is better than some larger animal.

at least we dont have large pets anymore (I hope)

top 7 perils i have faced in macedonia

7. seeing the poor living conditions people live in. as good as every house needs renovation. but hey thats what im here for!!
6. the food. too much. way too much (but still good)
5. the traffic. ever heard of a zebra crossing?
4. the climate (oh god) 40 degrees celcius in the shade. you basically get out of the icy shower and feel sweaty before all the water has dried.
3. the nightlife of the frogs. which never will shut up!!! (im very tempted to steal some forbidden DDT and dump it in the ajacent river)
2. the roads that make even the watertightest stomach feel like puking.
1. the diahorrea that is hitting the team one by one. everzday there is a new victim. whens my turn??
greeting from the whole team (charlotte and phillippa who is next to me)

Top 7 Bangalore perils that I have faced:

1. The inhalation of hot and humid air that have challenged my temperature sensors.
2. The condensation of water vapour because the body is cooler than the surrounding air.
3. Frequent sudden tropical-like downpour in the evening that floods the roads and makes the drains overflow.
4. The lack of order on the roads leading to subdivisions a through c
a)The application of brakes every 10 seconds.
b)The perpetual boredom of moving at 3 centimetres per second.
c)The constant fear of being run over by larger vehicles, which happens more often than one would like.
5. The sardine-like packed public buses.
6. Wading through the flowing people-traffic on the footpaths (if there is one) or on the roads, which is the cleaner and safer place to walk. (To expand on this, there seems to be an untold policy in Bangalore that is not hard to notice – the pedestrians have taken to the roads, while two-wheelers and bicycles feel comfortable driving on the footpaths)
7.The sweet sound of honking by the magnanimous drivers that deserves to be ignored after a while.

Pragathi

the first episode is written

the first part of the travel is taken. the first part of many. i got my report card today. and yet again it is pretty much the same as pragathis (oh wonder). grade ten is over, and to be honest i am very happy. the schoolyear was difficult in some aspects and made me grow in others.

why am i stuck at this rotten school??? why wasnt accepted to a UWC??? the year taught me to predict that things never work out the way you want them to, adn stubborn me doesnt like accepting that. i cannot see the implications, the positives and negatives at the moment, but not going to a UWC really eats at me, especially a i alsways seem to bump into people related to it.

whatever. 8 weeks of freedom. funny that. last year i didnt feel like summer hols at all, adn this year i just coundnt wait to get out of school.

Sri Lanka comes from Cyprus

apart from hearing the first signs of life in some time from my beloved blog partner, I have spent the weekend in holland, alkmaar.

yet again a wonderful and fluffy and simply great mun experience.

....

ok i just got my STOF appointment for MUNOM, my next conference. i really hope none of the executives reads this, but come on, i got the lamest committee ever!!! and i do know that my chairing is a lot better than not to even get my last choice, but to be stuck with some shitty debate on finance of multinational companies while i could do refugees in africa.

that got down my mood which was soaring from the great IMUNA conference.

wonderful. i bet some really slow and bad chair got the juicy stuff -.-

ah well back to IMUNA. I feel compelled to follow the pattern and stick in a quote, even though i know my entries are no linguistic masterpiece:

" wanna get dirrty

its about time that i came to start the party

 (...) 

dancing getting just a little naughtly, 

wanna get dirrty, 

its about time for my arrival" 

for those fans of teeny pop music of half a century ago: you must know this song. for all others, it comes from christina aguilera, and is called dirrty nad even though shes not exactly my absolute favourite, the song basically sums up the mun party. i scored 140 points in total (all muns), but really, that was nothing in compared to some other people. 

yeah all those that have not seen me at a party before, well im sort of change, as i love dancing, and can do one thing many people cant do: let go without the use of alcohol as a mediator.

of course muns much more than the mun party where our delegation was stupid enough to get cuaght drinking beer (?! come on how stupid do you have to be there are enough people there to hide behind if you really do happen to have the strong urge for alcohol). i was chair of SPC1. not really what i had applied for either, but my secnd choice, which was not bad either. my deputy was great, knew her stuff so i really rarely had to help out and was really nice and fun to hang out with (and be housed with). and my committee was 3/4 or even more first timers, and the others were not especially active either. therefore i had to do a lot of encouragement, with surprizingly little silencing. the treaty that sprung out was....rather well... not that good, but hey they were first timers, and i am proud that we finished and did get a debate going. ah and yes. sri lanka did come from cyprus, as did china and some other country that was next to them. btw im Sg for muniss, our conference

my housing was also good. together with Sam, char(lotte), denise, my deputy marijn and emilie, i shared a total of two rooms and one shower. it was quite liveable like that adn i didnt really mind, except for the dutch, which actually improved in time!

awwww!!! i miss you guys already!!! the conference should be longer!!!

now pragathi, id have a hell of a lot of stuff todiscuss with you, but writing it down is so terribly long. itll have to wait. btu one day we will definately drive the phoning companies through half the world crazy. as well as my parents of course ;)

24 and a bit more hours at home. perhaps a total of 72 if im lucky? then im off to macedonia. dunno what to make of it, ill survive if its bad, but sometimes its good not to have any expectations.

I feel rather cynical about my current school and am internally considering applying for a UWC one more time - id loose a year and basically do IB twice but what the hell? if i get in then..

ah well they don want me. forget that julia.

ive also met 2 dutch people that go there/will go there. its so unfair! it seems to be a lot easier to get into in holland? or am i really that abd at interviews??

not in the best mood. maybe i jsut need sleep and holidays. my report cards coming tomorrow. how wonderful. *right*

well this does not fit but i jsut had to express that i did it: i told by fave teacher how shit he was. be proud of me pragathi. i will be eternally hated by him (as i already am) and he might well do ib next year. isnt that simply spendid?! so much to cynicism. good night for now (i think i want to change my booking of seats to a sleeping compartment)

Flying Ahead...

Far away, this ship is taking me far away
Far away from the memories...

The words from the song of one of Julia’s favourite bands, Muse, resonated in my head all through my journey, except that it was an aeroplane taking me far away rather than the somewhat traditional ships.

Stuttgart was a wonderful place and a fascinating experience. The world has become smaller, and it’s not hard to visit places, but it’s hard to leave the people who have become close to me in my short stay. Distance always rusts relationships to a certain extent. But I hope our super-duper communication method (referring to the blog) will keep my in touch with your activities and mine to you. Well, parcels are in order too – little brown packages filled with goodies.

This blog is such a nice way to keep in touch with the limited amount of Internet time that I am having. After having found my way through the labyrinths or German software system, I have succeeded in writing this first blog from the neighbouring continent.

I miss everybody in Stuttgart, but of course life moves on…Sometimes you have to loose something to know it will always be there. Don’t worry, I can’t really forget you; you have a reserved seat in my heart. I really should get up before the keyboard is drenched. Echoing the title of a Bollywood movie – Kabhi Alvida Naa Kehna – Never Say Goodbye, the Express moves on…

I finish this off with the modified parting words of Mr. Snyder – Life is a journey and I am glad I could stop in Stuttgart for a while.

lots of new love

wow it has been a while. so much has happened

first: sailing with my class. it was really sweet! awesome weather, awesome shopping, awesome swimming... and surprizingly no alcool, nor bitchfights! wow!! plus i now can sail. not bad eh?

further the first dance training. nad second. and in two days third.

then: a week of pure stress with school, which thank goodness is over.

and finally my internship. I LOVE IT TO BITS!!!!!!!!!!!

it is so amazing! hte patients are all a bit elderly, but most of them are really cute and nice- almost cuddly! even though life on the station gets a bit dull after a while, i always enjoy the visit with my station doctor. 

in the moring there first is a meeting of all the doctors, then important blood things, then: really important: breakfast!!!

when thats done, we do the visit, finish blood, talk to patients about OPs and leaving and everythign else important. then we sometimes get iced coffee, and go to the op. as our station is rather tiny, ( only 18 patients) its done quickly, and the station doctor used for other tasks, such as in the op. (good hehe)

ive seen 11 ops. 8 last week. i love them! its is really interresting, and the people explain a lot. especially the people that actually do the action (chirurgen) do so, because they know me. they tel me to come closer, have a look at this and that, and explain what they are doing.

for example i got to hold a piece of bone, cement and wait for the chemical reaction where it hardens (it gets hot), i got to snip through adipose tissue and narbengewebe (outide of the patient), see prothesen, bone, muscles...

now to the active part. i got to get blood from patients, help out with packaging them up etc.  then i got to give some equipment  in a sterile way, help sterile people to get into their sterile cloaks (which is rather complex). i even got to beatmen somebody manually, and today, i gto dressed in green!

washing, bathing in sterisilation liquid, of course the standard hair net and face mask, and then the cloak, the gloves (put on in a sterile way) and finally it was the other way around. i could touch everything green, and had to keep safe distance from everything not green, but i could touch the patient and help out a bit, holding muscles apart, soaking up blood, watching learning, and having a laugh at politician jokes of long gone and (not yet) forgotten politicians.

im doing overtime already. oh no! (haha no i love it, i learn so much and its so interresting! much better than a normal bureau). lets hope i get my perfect IB so i fulfill the numerus clausus for german unis- not saying i will stay there but it is a possibility.

I love politics

a little bit of politics here and there can get you just a little further now and then. a bit of diplomacy here, a bit of charm there, that doesn't only help with MUN or boosting your school grades.

today i went to the dance casting for formation dancing (latin). i dont really dance that well, but hey, i at least dance better than half my dance school, if not three quaters. anyways, they didnt seem to want me. i was a tad upset and a tad pissed, because i didnt really understand why. however, i then talked to a guy in the formation i would have gone to. he said that i should come to the training anyways. so that was my plan b. 

then after doing some standard (for fun, im no where good enough to join the world champs nor the bundesliga), where i had the priviledge of dancing with one of the standard formation world champions , i had another chat with one of the girls that did get taken. i knew her from a tournament i had visited, as she currently dances for sinsheim, another team. in the middle i got appoached by the trainer, who asked me my name. i got into some sort of conversation, which ended up with him telling me to come to trainings anyways, and us shaking hands. sometimes im rather happy to have learned how to "chat people into what you want", even though im not a master of the skill (yet ;), but lastly i suppose my dancing isnt as gruesome.

stubborn me is going to work until i get it right- or get to be "off the bench"...just wait

msn conversations

Julia:

hey

sabeth:

morning

Julia:mr kelly is coming to stuttgart and i wont be able to see him!!! =(

Sabeth:

when is he coming???

Julia:

dont tell anybody, ok?

Sabeth:

ok

Julia:

next week

Julia:

when were ****** sailing

sabeth:

nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!

sabeth:

why!!!!!!!!!

Julia:

ya

Sabeth:

why then!!!!!!???????

Sabeth:

sniff sniff

Julia:

because its his only week off

Julia:

and he wanted to go to prom

Sabeth:

that sucks

Sabeth:

thats another reason not to go sailing!!!

Sabeth:

=(

parents...

*sigh*

why do parents always have the talent to spoil your mood, your day and / or anything? 

mine are especially talented or maybe im just a bit grumpy at times ;)

however, if after 3 hours of gardenwork, a bit of science, violin, and whatever else you were supposed to do and did, you get one on top by being brainwashed you end up feeling like me: not even able to enjoy dancing.

-.-

i cannot really put my finger on it. was it my being really late for dancing, was it the big "julia i dont want you to have a bf so dont even start and dont you dare bring him home, and by the way your grades are going to suffer" talk, or was it that too many people i knew were dancing and i couldnt dance the stuff i wanted with the people i wanted? no, i am not in the right to complain about that. whatever. it might just be teenage hormones on crack...I wonder where they get that from, as i dont give it to them...

oh well a bit of sleep, school and a heap of homework will fix it.

ballroom dancing-episode one of many

dancing is amazing!!!!

yesterday, after all my other day plans had for some lucky coincidence fallen into the water, (I wasnt as happy at the time), a friend of mine doing tournament dancing called me up and asked whether i could train with him today. for the record: me dancecourse student, he d/c class tournament dancer...

in other words i didnt think he got  lot of the 1.5 hours, but i did. at least i have a lot of homework to do. right, by the way are my shoes. they kill your feet after about 3 hours, but until now my feet are fine.

first we starded doing some standard as he has a tournament next thursday, and apparently hes not very good. I was worse, but it got uglier for me when we started on latin, as that is his favourite part and hes good at it.

I think we spent something like 15 mins doing one womens turn, so me turning. I didnt get the hip movement, that you have to point your toes tha whole time, the standing straight, in which direction you look etc. I think i got it right like 3 times, but im not satisfied myself. I need more hip, straighter legs, better timing and more pointy toes on that one. 

then we commenced to do half a "hockeystick". we only got to the beginning, as my movements again were not sharp enough. it didnt take so long until we gave up on that.

now came the goodies, the formation specialities: the roundabout and the "lankenaus". the first is a figure in the samba, where i had just learned the easy boring style of it in my regular dance class. this is completely different. i get to crouch down, almost sitting (god my leg muscles seem nonexistant!!) and then turn arond each other. its somewhat like the spinning that little kids do, just that you dont lean, keep your shoulders straight and have the steps. im realising how much stronger i need to get, and  how much tension i need to develop-its hard, and i think im going to spend the rest of my time until next week getting my leg muscles somewhat fit.

next was my favourite part - because i got it somewhat :D: the lankenaus. they are like pirioettes, on one leg, the other in the air, and led by your "man"(aparently im a women that likes doing things by herself...). i managed 4 in a row multiple times, once 5...my goal is 8 for now and 12 for the near future. so that gives me balancing homework to do. apart form the fact that i almst broke the fingers of my partner, was like a cm away from smashing my foot on his (with some power), and fell on him some several times.

my dance partner, david, didnt get completely pissed off with me, and afterwards on msn he wrote "it was ok", which i take as a compliment...seeing he has a reputation for being impatient.

first training of many to follow...