Yesterday marks 8 weeks since my arrival in Berlin, and Tuesday will make two months. Since then not much has happened, and so much has happened. Or, that's how it feels.
Monday night, before we fell asleep, Bosse and I were talking about that day's events. We had both been aware that it had been a day of extreme highs and lows. During our discussion, I recalled writing about such an occurrence a couple of years ago during my first months in Cordoba. Then, I noticed that my emotions fell into extremes: the good was really good and the bad was really bad, the highs were very high and the lows, well, yeah.
Despite feeling like I'm a little bit more seasoned when it comes to traveling and adapting, I think I've come to the conclusion that those extremes are more of the rule than the exception when even a little bit outside my comfort zone.
A few examples of Monday's roller coaster:
High: I got my visa (yay!). We woke up at 4:45 to be on the 5:09 train, to get to the Ausländerbehörde by 6:00 because it opened up at 7:00 on Mondays. We had gone in the previous Thursday in hopes of getting it then, only to have my health insurance rejected (we waited in line for 2 hours to find that out). Of course, when we got home and again scanned the 691 page (German) document for the exact wording on the types of acceptable health insurance for freelance english teachers (yes, there's a section, just for that - hence the 691 pages) and assured ourselves that we did indeed have the right insurance. We only needed to prove it (ie. print off relevant portion of said document and present it when applying again). Probably in an effort to avoid further paperwork and arguments, they took a quick look at my papers, and shortly after 7:30, I had my visa in hand and the right to stay and work as a freelance English teacher for the next 365 days. And I made it all happen well before my 90-day deadline.
Low: As soon as we got home and took a brief nap, I called one of the schools that provided me with one of my two letters of intention, to inform them that I had my visa and I was able to start working. He then told me that he'd be in touch with me when he actually had a position open. Wait, so no job? No positions? (Translation: no income?!?!). I took a deep breath, reminding myself that I must feel grateful that he still provided me with the one of the documents I needed for my visa. But I felt silly for thinking that I had the job when I clearly didn't. Furthermore, it meant I had to get on the job hunt again, and soon.
High/Low: I did have one school that had offered me a class, the Friday before. Not exactly a language school, it was a work-learn University. There were a couple downsides: at the most I would have 4 class-hours a week, my first class with my students was a full 4 hours long, and the class size was 30. Thirty. Visions of my classes in Cordoba of nearly that many 14-year-olds haunted me. But regardless, they were offering me one class to start and possibly more after that. The staff was also one of the nicest I had encountered along my job hunt.
Low: In the hustle and bustle of the foreigners office, I got pen marks right on the front of my leather jacket. Mostly adding to the infuriating memory, it was made more frustrating when I didn't know how to ask for "rubbing alcohol" in German at the drugstore (and then even wondering if I was in the right place) in the hopes of fixing it. In the end, I bet on the fact that hand sanitizer might do the trick. I lost that bet.
High: That evening, we met up with Bosse's friends (an intercambio-turned-aquantaince-turned-couple-to-do-things-with) who had invited us to play beach volleyball with them (I know, you're thinking "beach volleyball in Berlin?" but indeed there is a field of about 50 sand volleyball courts walking distance from our apartment for all to enjoy for only €8/hour!) Although I wasn't initially too enthused about it - harking back to my grammar-school gym experiences - it ended up being a great hour, enjoying the cool sand and fresh air, and meeting other Spaniards and Germans (even while losing miserably each game we played).
Conclusion: Separately, none of these occurrences were any big deal (ok, maybe getting my visa secured is a big deal). Nor were they necessarily as they were, in succession. But given the context, and (at this point) fragile ego, they swung me around like a carousel. As I get settled - obtain stable employment, learn more German, and find decent peanut butter - I expect my emotions will as well. And experiencing the extreme highs and lows is all part of this new adventure.
Thursday, August 30, 2012
Thursday, August 16, 2012
Eins, zwei, drei...
I'm currently on hiatus from the job hunt. I've found a couple of schools that are going to write me the letters needed to apply for my visa. I have an interview at another school next week, which hopefully will provide more stability (i.e. hours/higher pay), and several other schools that have my CV "on file" (the circular one?). Right now, I'm really just waiting for those letters and on health insurance to kick in. Hopefully I can apply for my visa sometime in the next couple weeks. Oy vey.
In the meantime, I've been trying to stay occupied. I've throughly distracted Bosse from his studies, and now we both must get down to business. For me, that means studying German.
I will channel a bit of Chandler Bing when I say: "Could German BE any more difficult to learn?"
Seriously.
Ok, so I've learned one foreign language. I don't think I ever took for granted the relative ease of which I learned Spanish simply because I was moderately exposed to it from infancy. I remember sitting in first and second grade and watching these ridiculous videos with a fluffy human dog teaching us the numbers and colors and words like gato and perro. Although I can barely remember it, my transcript says I took a couple semesters of Spanish in middle school. I vividly remember my years of Spanish in high school with Th-enora Th-inke who terrified us into learning the verb tenses. I even dabbled in a 102, 201 and a conversation class in college, not yet giving up. But, as predicted, it wasn't until I got to Spain that I was forced to really learn the language. And then all those years of learning Spanish - from the human dog, Th-enora Th-inke, college, and all my southwest-community experiences in-between - came flooding back to me.
Until last year, my exposure to German was limited to the few yiddish words I picked up from TV. And movies about World War II. Oh, and bratwurst. And strudel. And sauerkraut. I love sauerkraut.
Since dating Bosse, I've picked up my German textbooks several times, only to get a few pages in and then get distracted by work, or family, or really anything else more interesting. But now, there are no excuses. I have the time. I'm in the venue.
And I need to learn. There's nothing more frustrating than not being able to express yourself. Any travelers will know this experience thoroughly: going to a country where you don't speak the language. You are resourceful. You will get by. But it is exhausting, and sometimes absolutely anger-inducing.
So I'm learning. Or trying to anyway. I'm going through the textbook(s). I'm doing the exercises. I've made tons of notes, and diagrams, and lists. I've littered our apartment with sticky notes identifying objects in their German equivalents.
For those of you who are unfamiliar with the German language, a little insight into why I'm already pulling my hair out:
In the meantime, I've been trying to stay occupied. I've throughly distracted Bosse from his studies, and now we both must get down to business. For me, that means studying German.
I will channel a bit of Chandler Bing when I say: "Could German BE any more difficult to learn?"
Seriously.
Ok, so I've learned one foreign language. I don't think I ever took for granted the relative ease of which I learned Spanish simply because I was moderately exposed to it from infancy. I remember sitting in first and second grade and watching these ridiculous videos with a fluffy human dog teaching us the numbers and colors and words like gato and perro. Although I can barely remember it, my transcript says I took a couple semesters of Spanish in middle school. I vividly remember my years of Spanish in high school with Th-enora Th-inke who terrified us into learning the verb tenses. I even dabbled in a 102, 201 and a conversation class in college, not yet giving up. But, as predicted, it wasn't until I got to Spain that I was forced to really learn the language. And then all those years of learning Spanish - from the human dog, Th-enora Th-inke, college, and all my southwest-community experiences in-between - came flooding back to me.
Until last year, my exposure to German was limited to the few yiddish words I picked up from TV. And movies about World War II. Oh, and bratwurst. And strudel. And sauerkraut. I love sauerkraut.
Since dating Bosse, I've picked up my German textbooks several times, only to get a few pages in and then get distracted by work, or family, or really anything else more interesting. But now, there are no excuses. I have the time. I'm in the venue.
And I need to learn. There's nothing more frustrating than not being able to express yourself. Any travelers will know this experience thoroughly: going to a country where you don't speak the language. You are resourceful. You will get by. But it is exhausting, and sometimes absolutely anger-inducing.
So I'm learning. Or trying to anyway. I'm going through the textbook(s). I'm doing the exercises. I've made tons of notes, and diagrams, and lists. I've littered our apartment with sticky notes identifying objects in their German equivalents.
For those of you who are unfamiliar with the German language, a little insight into why I'm already pulling my hair out:
- Every noun in German has a "gender" - similar to Spanish. Except there are three genders in German - masculine, feminine, and neuter. Furthermore, there are few ways to predict the gender of the words by what they are or how they're spelled (unlike in Spanish). This basically means that you must learn every noun with its corresponding article (ie gender). Eg: der Tisch, die Küche, das Zimmer.
- There is not just one way to form a plural noun. There are FIVE ways to form a plural, even these having their variations. Again, their formations are not usually predictable or consistent. This means that for every noun you learn, you must also learn its plural. Eg: die Tische, die Küchen, die Zimmer.
- There are four different "cases" for each noun, depending on its function in the sentence and/or what preposition it follows: the nominative, accusative, dative, genitive. For each case, the article changes and sometimes even the ending of the nouns. This means that are essentially 8 - count them: EIGHT - different "forms" of the noun and its article. Eg: der Vater/den Vater/dem Vater/des Vaters/die Väter/die Väter/den Vätern/der Väter.
- Sentence structure is heinous, and is counter to English in most ways. A question like "Können Sie mir bitte die Telefonnummer geben?" in English literally translates to: "Can you to me please the telephone number give?" Where English typically puts the verb (and all parts of it) somewhere near the beginning of the sentence, German likes to keep the suspense going, giving you part of it at the beginning but the rest of it at the very end. It's like conversational ransom.
- Pronunciation. This is the main reason why Bosse can't teach me. Not because he doesn't know or try. It's because when I try and repeat after him, I think I'm saying it the right way, and he disagrees. It's like a bad comedy act that sort of reminds me of "Who's on first base" but it really doesn't feel that funny.
Yeah. And I'm just on page 80 of my textbook.
So really, what's motivating me now is that I'm betting high on the fact that it will all get easier with time and practice.
And eventually, I would like to haggle with the Turks at the market.
Thursday, August 9, 2012
Red tape and brick walls
I am a little bit acquainted with foreign bureaucracy. I've had a few experiences applying for visas and residency permits over the years. I am well aware of the amount of paperwork, and time, and sweat that is typically necessary for one to survive the process. But of course, prior knowledge and experience only makes it more predictable, but no less tiresome.
In my previous experiences, I have had the luxury of "security" - by which I define as the knowledge that all I needed was to gather the necessary documents and submit within the proper time frame, and it was (more-or-less) guaranteed that I would be able to conduct my business as desired in the respective country.
However, Germany has definitely got me a bit more anxious.
Before I made the decision to come and try and find work (i.e. teaching jobs) in Berlin, I had the good fortune of being able to talk with another Oxy alum (and fellow Econ student, whoop whoop!) who had undergone the same process after graduation: coming to Germany, looking for a job, finding a job, applying for the visa. I also felt like I did a fair bit of homework of my own - either browsing forums or TEFL websites - for advice. My conclusions were these:
I have sent out more than 50 resumes, and have received about 11 responses. (I will first give props, because I know that kind of percentage is unheard-of in the US at the present.) I have had 3 interviews offers, and 2 interviews.
One interview went well, but they probably can't hire me because of my (relatively) nonexistent German.
The final interview was an offer to write me the needed paperwork to help obtain my visa, but no hours were guaranteed.
Finally, the stray interview offer didn't work out because I didn't already have my work permit and the position needed to be filled immediately. It's really circular logic: I need a school to hire me before I can get a permit, but most schools hesitate to hire someone without a permit.
Well... ok, so then what?
Since being here, I have also gotten some of the specifics on what I need to apply for the "freelance" work visa:
Fortunately, since I was moving in with Bosse, getting a rental agreement was mostly him "officially" subletting his apartment to me and all the accompanied legal jargon and signatures. To make this really official, Bosse and I waited 3 1/2 hours at the Rathaus around the corner so we could sit in an office for 5 minutes and have a woman enter my new address into the system.
I have a bank account, as of today, of which was a relatively painless process since Bosse just told me where to sign. It's really a good thing that I trust him so much... I think.
We're in the process of applying for health insurance. Being that I only have my American experiences, it's hard to be positive about it. But as far as I've heard, it's better and cheaper here. Here's hoping.
Finally, the letters. Ohhhhhh the letters. We've spoken to some people and read on some forms that I may, may, only need one school to write me a letter in order to apply for the visa. So since we haven't had any luck contacting the foreigners office via phone, today we thought we might try to do this in person. OH MY GOSH.
It's actually quite funny. It never occurred to Bosse to come earlier than the 10:00 opening time for the office, and he didn't really understand why I suggested we go earlier. But then it occurred to me when we got there and his jaw dropped upon seeing the multitudes of people pushing against closed doors. Of course he wouldn't know and not to his fault: he's never had to apply for an EU visa. And yes, I was familiar with the long lines of the foreigners office, but even I was a bit overwhelmed. Especially when I heard screams of panic when the doors finally did open.
So, needless to say, our questions went unanswered. We decided that we'd come back and try for it again when I had the one promised letter and just try, even if it meant failure and having to come back a third time. Coming home, we even tried to make an appointment at the office (because apparently, you can do that too, makes sense) and the next available appointments weren't until SEPTEMBER 11. Oh, and that's only like 2 weeks away from the expiration of my tourist visa. But no big deal.
A couple weeks ago, Bosse shared with me the The Last Lecture, and although I didn't see it all (I keep wanting to get back to it), one thing Mr. Pausch said has stuck with me.
"But remember, the brick walls are there for a reason. The brick walls are not there to keep us out. The brick walls are there to give us a chance to show how badly we want something. Because the brick walls are there to stop the people who don’t want it badly enough. They’re there to stop the other people."
And I just keep reminding myself: the paperwork, the offices, the phone calls, the interviews, the red tape - these are just brick walls. I want this. And I can prove it.
In my previous experiences, I have had the luxury of "security" - by which I define as the knowledge that all I needed was to gather the necessary documents and submit within the proper time frame, and it was (more-or-less) guaranteed that I would be able to conduct my business as desired in the respective country.
However, Germany has definitely got me a bit more anxious.
Before I made the decision to come and try and find work (i.e. teaching jobs) in Berlin, I had the good fortune of being able to talk with another Oxy alum (and fellow Econ student, whoop whoop!) who had undergone the same process after graduation: coming to Germany, looking for a job, finding a job, applying for the visa. I also felt like I did a fair bit of homework of my own - either browsing forums or TEFL websites - for advice. My conclusions were these:
- No, I did not need to know any German to find a teaching job in Germany.
- Schools may not pay much, but they were willing to offer jobs.
- There may be fewer teaching jobs in Berlin, but they were still there (and maybe offering limited hours).
I have sent out more than 50 resumes, and have received about 11 responses. (I will first give props, because I know that kind of percentage is unheard-of in the US at the present.) I have had 3 interviews offers, and 2 interviews.
One interview went well, but they probably can't hire me because of my (relatively) nonexistent German.
The final interview was an offer to write me the needed paperwork to help obtain my visa, but no hours were guaranteed.
Finally, the stray interview offer didn't work out because I didn't already have my work permit and the position needed to be filled immediately. It's really circular logic: I need a school to hire me before I can get a permit, but most schools hesitate to hire someone without a permit.
Well... ok, so then what?
Since being here, I have also gotten some of the specifics on what I need to apply for the "freelance" work visa:
- I need to register as a resident (and thereby have a rental agreement).
- I need to have a bank account (for which I need to register an address first).
- I need to have private health insurance (for which I need a bank account)
- I need to have "Letters of Intent" from at least 2 different Language schools.
Fortunately, since I was moving in with Bosse, getting a rental agreement was mostly him "officially" subletting his apartment to me and all the accompanied legal jargon and signatures. To make this really official, Bosse and I waited 3 1/2 hours at the Rathaus around the corner so we could sit in an office for 5 minutes and have a woman enter my new address into the system.
I have a bank account, as of today, of which was a relatively painless process since Bosse just told me where to sign. It's really a good thing that I trust him so much... I think.
We're in the process of applying for health insurance. Being that I only have my American experiences, it's hard to be positive about it. But as far as I've heard, it's better and cheaper here. Here's hoping.
Finally, the letters. Ohhhhhh the letters. We've spoken to some people and read on some forms that I may, may, only need one school to write me a letter in order to apply for the visa. So since we haven't had any luck contacting the foreigners office via phone, today we thought we might try to do this in person. OH MY GOSH.
It's actually quite funny. It never occurred to Bosse to come earlier than the 10:00 opening time for the office, and he didn't really understand why I suggested we go earlier. But then it occurred to me when we got there and his jaw dropped upon seeing the multitudes of people pushing against closed doors. Of course he wouldn't know and not to his fault: he's never had to apply for an EU visa. And yes, I was familiar with the long lines of the foreigners office, but even I was a bit overwhelmed. Especially when I heard screams of panic when the doors finally did open.
So, needless to say, our questions went unanswered. We decided that we'd come back and try for it again when I had the one promised letter and just try, even if it meant failure and having to come back a third time. Coming home, we even tried to make an appointment at the office (because apparently, you can do that too, makes sense) and the next available appointments weren't until SEPTEMBER 11. Oh, and that's only like 2 weeks away from the expiration of my tourist visa. But no big deal.
A couple weeks ago, Bosse shared with me the The Last Lecture, and although I didn't see it all (I keep wanting to get back to it), one thing Mr. Pausch said has stuck with me.
"But remember, the brick walls are there for a reason. The brick walls are not there to keep us out. The brick walls are there to give us a chance to show how badly we want something. Because the brick walls are there to stop the people who don’t want it badly enough. They’re there to stop the other people."
And I just keep reminding myself: the paperwork, the offices, the phone calls, the interviews, the red tape - these are just brick walls. I want this. And I can prove it.
Monday, August 6, 2012
La vida española
On Thursday, we got back from a week long "vacation" to Spain. Obviously, I say "vacation" because when neither of us is an active student or employee of any kind and you go galavanting off for a week, calling it a vacation only seems unfair to others who are really deserving of a vacation. (And ok, I'm still going to give myself a little break since I worked an average of 65 hours a week in the 9 months leading up the move).
Semantics aside, it was a great little jaunt and we were fortunate enough to cover all the bases and see most of our friends that remain there. Starting in Granada, we made it for Vanessa's birthday and spent plenty of time with her, Justin, Ivan, Isa... unfortunately, German wasn't there due to a family emergency. It definitely felt quiet without him, but it was still great to see everyone else. In Malaga, we spent time with precious Vero who indulged me in my nostalgic afternoon paseo around the city. It was already so different - hard to believe that so much had changed in a year, especially given it's Spain - but its character remained. I was reminded of how fortunate I was to have lived there, and how much I would like to come back... someday.
Finally, we made it to Madrid, where Bosse's sister and her fiancé live. It was great to see their new place (pretty close to amazing: 3rd floor corner apartment, on the plaza, wooden floors and doors, with plenty of balcones) and get back to my favorite candy shop (a ritual for me now).
And of all the places I noticed the difference in Spain, it was certainly in Madrid.
One thing that always impressed me the most, and sometimes outright annoyed me, was how clean public spaces were kept in the cities of Spain. Street cleaners are prevalent, trash cans are rampant, and one can frequently encounter city workers simply power-washing the sidewalks for that extra sparkle. That didn't seem to be the case this year, and for good reason too. Walking down many of the streets, I saw more trash on the ground than I could ever remember. The trash cans were full and workers were few.
We asked around our group of friends that had been there this past year, after we left, if there had been a marked difference in the sentiment they felt or had discussed among their Spanish friends, students, colleagues. None of the responses seemed positive, and some were outright despondent. Distrust in the government was high among Spaniards, and many seemed to lack the hope that they would see their country ever recover. We know some who have moved their money to other countries. My friend Vero left Spain last year to find au pair work in the UK, and she's already certain that she doesn't ever want to come home.
It makes me sad. I love Spain. Granted, we've certainly had our ups and downs, and most of the things that drive me the most crazy about the country I'm also convinced are many of the same things that are at the root of their current crisis (eg. not paying their taxes, exorbitant unemployment benefits, inconsistent education policies). But the parts I love most are also at risk of being lost at the expense of the ailing economy - even siesta is already on the chopping block. Most of all the country is in despair, and the vibrancy that defines Spanish life now flickers.
But I still remain hopeful that one day, not too far into the future, Spain will emerge and I'll be there in my own little casita on the Costa del Sol.
Semantics aside, it was a great little jaunt and we were fortunate enough to cover all the bases and see most of our friends that remain there. Starting in Granada, we made it for Vanessa's birthday and spent plenty of time with her, Justin, Ivan, Isa... unfortunately, German wasn't there due to a family emergency. It definitely felt quiet without him, but it was still great to see everyone else. In Malaga, we spent time with precious Vero who indulged me in my nostalgic afternoon paseo around the city. It was already so different - hard to believe that so much had changed in a year, especially given it's Spain - but its character remained. I was reminded of how fortunate I was to have lived there, and how much I would like to come back... someday.
Finally, we made it to Madrid, where Bosse's sister and her fiancé live. It was great to see their new place (pretty close to amazing: 3rd floor corner apartment, on the plaza, wooden floors and doors, with plenty of balcones) and get back to my favorite candy shop (a ritual for me now).
And of all the places I noticed the difference in Spain, it was certainly in Madrid.
One thing that always impressed me the most, and sometimes outright annoyed me, was how clean public spaces were kept in the cities of Spain. Street cleaners are prevalent, trash cans are rampant, and one can frequently encounter city workers simply power-washing the sidewalks for that extra sparkle. That didn't seem to be the case this year, and for good reason too. Walking down many of the streets, I saw more trash on the ground than I could ever remember. The trash cans were full and workers were few.
We asked around our group of friends that had been there this past year, after we left, if there had been a marked difference in the sentiment they felt or had discussed among their Spanish friends, students, colleagues. None of the responses seemed positive, and some were outright despondent. Distrust in the government was high among Spaniards, and many seemed to lack the hope that they would see their country ever recover. We know some who have moved their money to other countries. My friend Vero left Spain last year to find au pair work in the UK, and she's already certain that she doesn't ever want to come home.
It makes me sad. I love Spain. Granted, we've certainly had our ups and downs, and most of the things that drive me the most crazy about the country I'm also convinced are many of the same things that are at the root of their current crisis (eg. not paying their taxes, exorbitant unemployment benefits, inconsistent education policies). But the parts I love most are also at risk of being lost at the expense of the ailing economy - even siesta is already on the chopping block. Most of all the country is in despair, and the vibrancy that defines Spanish life now flickers.
But I still remain hopeful that one day, not too far into the future, Spain will emerge and I'll be there in my own little casita on the Costa del Sol.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)