I personally always lumped Fridays with weekends. In fact, if I were to have the power to pass any one law for the whole planet, it would be to institute 3 day weekends. Seeing as I don't have this power yet, I will instead describe the weekend starting with what happened on Friday.
Friday
I woke up at the ripe hour of eleven in the morning to a drizzle slightly knocking on my window. I got up and decided to give the oatmeal that I purchased the day before a shot. I made it the usual way: two to one ratio of water to oats, then an addition of honey (kindly lent by Jannis) once the porridge was out of the pot. It tasted pretty much the same as the Quaker oatmeal I'd been eating all summer. I found this encouraging, because it meant that for 35 Eurocents I had breakfast meals for as long as half a kilo of oats lasted.
After this reassuring meal I wrote and read till about four, then borrowed a bike from Jannis (the constant borrowing seems to be a thing these past couple of days) and pedaled up the hill to see the University.
I suspect that the architects of Uni Konstanz decided to compensate for the relative simplicity of the town's geography by creating something that was actually challenging to navigate. I have to admit, they succeeded. The University of Konstanz, at least upon first inspection, seems to house all of its departments in one giant building complex. I wouldn't be surprised if one could visit all of them without ever having to go outdoors.
My agenda was much humbler: I only wanted to find the linguistics department, since I would probably be spending considerable time in it and would prefer to know how to there ahead of time. According to some information that I gathered online before my arrival, linguistics was on the second floor of building G. I had with me a plan of the university very thoughtfully provided by the International Programs office in one of their bulky packages that I got before my departure. I studied this plan for a couple of minutes, then decided to wing it based on an approximation of where I thought G was.
This was a mistake and I paid for it by having to meander in loops through corridors with pipes, wires and armature hanging down from the ceilings, balconies with life-size statuettes of falcons or hawks, closed cafeterias and complex systems of terraces and stairs. I also passed some rooms called "Buchbereich" that looked like mini libraries and had extensive lists of items one was prohibited to bring into them (one might think one was entering some sort or temple of knowledge because the lists made it seem that one could come in only if one left practically all of one's worldly possessions behind).
One increasingly annoying recurring theme in this first round of wandering was that instead of building G I kept running into M. No matter where I started and how many different floors I traversed, I always ended up somewhere in building M. I learned by heart that it was the biology department and that it had a stuffed animals exhibit that contained a fairly large fox. I would rather have known the most efficient route to G.
After some time I got fed up with this loop and decided to first go outside, then enter the labyrinth from some other point and in that way break out of whatever passage system I was stuck in. Just to be fair, I decided to go into the first door I encountered while outside. But this ruse didn't work: I entered a basement full of white walls and machinery and after some wandering around discovered that (surprise!) I was again in building M. At this point I'd been walking for at least half an hour and really wanted to end the tour.
I pulled out the plan and consulted it again before attempting one last time to reach building G. Now, however, I had a better understanding of how the real buildings correlated with the rectangles shown on my map and also realized that if one were to start at the main entrance, there were signs to all of the buildings that made life much easier. Thus I was finally was able to find G, see some classrooms, yet another Buchbereich and some posters about current (and not so current: there was an ad for a computational linguistics workshop from 2009) events, courses and research at the department.
This being done, I left that maze without delay and rode down the opposite hillside from the one I went up earlier in the day. I soon reached a town called Egg that naturally looked nothing like an egg and from there followed a picturesque alley lined with old trees that took me to the entrance to the isle of Mainau. Because there was a fee for admission to the island (and I didn't want to pay it), I turned back, retraced my steps to Egg and from there took small streets to the adjacent towns of Allmannsdorf and Staad. From there I biked to the Rheinbrücke and home through Sonnenbühlstraße. On the way I saw loads of other cyclists, two breweries (on a stretch of at most 1,5 kilometers), a ferry and a casino. These, I observed, seem to be legal in the city (unlike in the US, where gambling is confined to certain districts) but tastefully few and unobtrusive (unlike Moscow, as I remember it, with practically a one-to-one ratio of grocery shops and huge neon gaming signs).
I came back home for a very short while, then left again for the now almost traditional Hafenhalle meet up with the folks from the LEI programme. There I heard that a pub-crawl was happening the day after. More on that in my next entry.
Showing posts with label Hafenhalle. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hafenhalle. Show all posts
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Friday, September 2, 2011
First Post (couldn't think of anything better at this point)
This is my first entry in this blog in which I hope to describe with varying extent of detail what happens during the year that I will spend in Konstanz (Constance in English), Germany. The opinions expressed in this blog are my own and do not reflect any positions or opinions of the International Office at Umass or Uni Konstanz. If you find any inaccuracies or offensive entries, please let me know. If you find the blog boring, also let me know, because I tend to get carried away with details sometimes and forget that brevity is the sister of genius.
Day 1 (September 1st)
After a safe and uneventful flight from Boston (the most exciting things that happened were me spilling a glass of orange juice on myself after breakfast and a lion chasing a rhino on the TV screen in the back of the seat before me), I arrived at Zurich airport around 10:30, local time.
I disembarked from the plane, showed my passport to some Swiss official with a huge black tooth-shaped earring, who recommended that I get a German visa if I plan to stay there for more than a month, assured him that this was in fact my plan, and went in search of my luggage. It so happened that my flight arrived at a terminal that was separate from the main airport building, so I had to take something called SkyMetro to reach my stuff. This SkyMetro turned out to be an "unpiloted" (there was no conductor to be seen) chain of two or three subway-like cars that cruised between the terminal of my arrival and the main airport building. It accompanied this cruising with showing in its windows holograms of traditionally-dressed Swiss girls yodeling something about cheese at the passengers from the tunnel. This awesome (literally) device delivered me to the main terminal, where I was able to find all of my luggage and haul it over to the conveniently adjacent proper train station.
There I ran into one unexpected and ultimately insignificant problem with money. I had forgotten that Switzerland was not in the Eurozone and was still using its own franks. I was strongly discouraged by everyone I talked to in Zurich from exchanging dollars for euros there because that would involve changing them for Swiss franks as an intermediary step and since that would incur an additional transaction fee, I would lose a considerable amount of cash. It would make more sense, I was told, to exchange currencies upon my arrival at Konstanz. Thus my only hope was that the Swiss railroad accepts dollars as payment for a train ticket. The thought of this hope being in vain (and my possible courses of action if it were so) occupied me most of the time that I spent in line (which was fairly long) at the ticket booth.
When it was finally my turn I came up to the counter and said:
"This will most likely sound like a very American question, but can I pay for a ticket to Konstanz with US dollars?"
The ticket booth lady, however, seemed unphased by this and replied "Yes, sure." with a smile. She then proceeded to break my $100 bill by giving me change from the ticket price in a mixture of three Swiss coins ("souvenirs from Switzerland" as she called them) and dollar bills that she brought from some recesses of the booth. I was surprised to discover that the dollar portion of the change contained a $50 bill with the stern face of Ulysses Grant peering at me from it. I do not remember ever encountering this denomination in the US. I thought it would be amusing (and definitely not realistic) if the Swiss railroad ordered a special package of bills every time the US Treasury printed a batch.
The train ride to Konstanz, much like the flight to Zurich, consisted mostly of restless napping with occasional peeking at the scenery that was flying by in the window (for some reason no yodeling maidens showed up this time).
I was greeted at the Konstanz train station by Sabrina, one of the tutors at the International Programs Office at Uni Konstanz. She took me and my two heavy bags first to the currency exchange, then to a bus station. From there we rode a bus (naturally) to my dorm on Schürmann-Hoster-Weg, where I met Jannis, one of my suite-mates. He kindly offered to take me on a tour of the area (points of interest mainly being grocery shops) and I accepted. After we had seen all there was to see in our neighborhood, Jannis went home to continue working on his bachelor thesis and I crossed the Rhine into the center of town in my first attempt that day to get lost in Konstanz. I find that getting lost in places and then discovering your way back home is the best way to learn the lay of the land and encounter spots and people that would have otherwise remained unknown if one just stuck to one's regular commute routes. This might also be an elaborately practical and mundane excuse for my love to wander around somewhat aimlessly, but I like to pretend it's the real reason. In any case, despite my efforts, I did not get lost and was back home around 4:30 pm.
Sabrina mentioned that a gathering of international exchange students was happening at a biergarten called Hafen Halle (Harbour Hall, because it is located on the waterfront of Konstanz harbour) at 8:00 that evening, so I unpacked most of my stuff, made a 'to-buy' list and went grocery shopping with Jannis and Clair (my other suite-mate who showed up in the evening). I got myself some black bread, butter, Gouda cheese (I didn't want to start experimenting with German cheeses just yet), oatmeal flakes (these took some time to find because none of my suite-mates had heard of oatmeal porridge), a box of Earl Grey and a bag of some local version of dumplings called Maultaschen. By my calculations, that would last me the first couple of days or, in the case of oatmeal, weeks.
Clair had a car for all of our groceries and after we were done with them dropped me off at the train station (amazing cyclicity: my day at Konstanz began at the train station and ended practically there too) , from where I walked to Hafen Halle. It was a short walk, because the place was directly next to the tracks, I just had to make a bit of a loop to get to the other side of them.
Even though I got there about five minutes after 8, I turned out to be the first one on the spot and made several loops through the biergarten before noticing a group of English-speaking young people arrive at the establishment. I joined them, had my first non-imported German beer in years (it was some brand of Edelstoff) and, as I'm beginning to find increasingly typical for international youth gatherings, learned/taught some curses and obscenities from languages, the speakers of which were present at the table (me included). We were interrupted once by an unusual occurence.
On the waterfront next to the biergarten is a youth theatre building, the foyer of which has floor-to-ceiling glass windows and doors. I had noticed its neon red sign while I was searching for the group, but didn't pay much attention to it afterwards. Suddenly, we heard commotion from that direction and when we looked there we saw a man banging on the windows and shrieking as if trying to get in or express utter despair at something. Inside the building a woman jumped up from the desk and started actively gesticulating something to the man, pointing in some direction as if directing him to a door (or just away from her?). She might have been yelling too, but we couldn't hear anything because of the glass. The man seemed to ignore her and kept throwing himself at the glass as if he was actually trying to break it. We couldn't understand what he was saying and after at most five minutes he ran away, leaving us all perplexed as to what had happened. Personally, I suspect this might have just been a staged act, maybe even an audition. I mean, I'd take anyone for a play that was willing to put up a row like that in public and do it in a believable way.
After this brief interjection from a rowdy stranger, we continued our discussion, though I do not remember what it was about at that point. I walked home through the area called Paradies because some of the students at the table lived in the dorms Europahaus and Paradies (everything in the Paradies area is called 'Paradies': dorms, cafes; I find that confusing). As all my new acquaintances left me, I decided it was time for a second attempt at getting lost in Konstanz.
This time it was night and I was a bit more tired which should have made things harder. In addition, I had a beer to drink at the cafe. "This will be fun" - I thought to myself. But it wasn't. I knew pretty much the whole way where I was and aside from an immense desire to go to visit a bathroom (beer will do that to you) experienced no discomfort whatsoever during the journey. I came home at midnight, blissfully pilgrimaged to the bathroom, brushed my teeth and went to bed.
Day 1 (September 1st)
After a safe and uneventful flight from Boston (the most exciting things that happened were me spilling a glass of orange juice on myself after breakfast and a lion chasing a rhino on the TV screen in the back of the seat before me), I arrived at Zurich airport around 10:30, local time.
I disembarked from the plane, showed my passport to some Swiss official with a huge black tooth-shaped earring, who recommended that I get a German visa if I plan to stay there for more than a month, assured him that this was in fact my plan, and went in search of my luggage. It so happened that my flight arrived at a terminal that was separate from the main airport building, so I had to take something called SkyMetro to reach my stuff. This SkyMetro turned out to be an "unpiloted" (there was no conductor to be seen) chain of two or three subway-like cars that cruised between the terminal of my arrival and the main airport building. It accompanied this cruising with showing in its windows holograms of traditionally-dressed Swiss girls yodeling something about cheese at the passengers from the tunnel. This awesome (literally) device delivered me to the main terminal, where I was able to find all of my luggage and haul it over to the conveniently adjacent proper train station.
There I ran into one unexpected and ultimately insignificant problem with money. I had forgotten that Switzerland was not in the Eurozone and was still using its own franks. I was strongly discouraged by everyone I talked to in Zurich from exchanging dollars for euros there because that would involve changing them for Swiss franks as an intermediary step and since that would incur an additional transaction fee, I would lose a considerable amount of cash. It would make more sense, I was told, to exchange currencies upon my arrival at Konstanz. Thus my only hope was that the Swiss railroad accepts dollars as payment for a train ticket. The thought of this hope being in vain (and my possible courses of action if it were so) occupied me most of the time that I spent in line (which was fairly long) at the ticket booth.
When it was finally my turn I came up to the counter and said:
"This will most likely sound like a very American question, but can I pay for a ticket to Konstanz with US dollars?"
The ticket booth lady, however, seemed unphased by this and replied "Yes, sure." with a smile. She then proceeded to break my $100 bill by giving me change from the ticket price in a mixture of three Swiss coins ("souvenirs from Switzerland" as she called them) and dollar bills that she brought from some recesses of the booth. I was surprised to discover that the dollar portion of the change contained a $50 bill with the stern face of Ulysses Grant peering at me from it. I do not remember ever encountering this denomination in the US. I thought it would be amusing (and definitely not realistic) if the Swiss railroad ordered a special package of bills every time the US Treasury printed a batch.
The train ride to Konstanz, much like the flight to Zurich, consisted mostly of restless napping with occasional peeking at the scenery that was flying by in the window (for some reason no yodeling maidens showed up this time).
I was greeted at the Konstanz train station by Sabrina, one of the tutors at the International Programs Office at Uni Konstanz. She took me and my two heavy bags first to the currency exchange, then to a bus station. From there we rode a bus (naturally) to my dorm on Schürmann-Hoster-Weg, where I met Jannis, one of my suite-mates. He kindly offered to take me on a tour of the area (points of interest mainly being grocery shops) and I accepted. After we had seen all there was to see in our neighborhood, Jannis went home to continue working on his bachelor thesis and I crossed the Rhine into the center of town in my first attempt that day to get lost in Konstanz. I find that getting lost in places and then discovering your way back home is the best way to learn the lay of the land and encounter spots and people that would have otherwise remained unknown if one just stuck to one's regular commute routes. This might also be an elaborately practical and mundane excuse for my love to wander around somewhat aimlessly, but I like to pretend it's the real reason. In any case, despite my efforts, I did not get lost and was back home around 4:30 pm.
Sabrina mentioned that a gathering of international exchange students was happening at a biergarten called Hafen Halle (Harbour Hall, because it is located on the waterfront of Konstanz harbour) at 8:00 that evening, so I unpacked most of my stuff, made a 'to-buy' list and went grocery shopping with Jannis and Clair (my other suite-mate who showed up in the evening). I got myself some black bread, butter, Gouda cheese (I didn't want to start experimenting with German cheeses just yet), oatmeal flakes (these took some time to find because none of my suite-mates had heard of oatmeal porridge), a box of Earl Grey and a bag of some local version of dumplings called Maultaschen. By my calculations, that would last me the first couple of days or, in the case of oatmeal, weeks.
Clair had a car for all of our groceries and after we were done with them dropped me off at the train station (amazing cyclicity: my day at Konstanz began at the train station and ended practically there too) , from where I walked to Hafen Halle. It was a short walk, because the place was directly next to the tracks, I just had to make a bit of a loop to get to the other side of them.
Even though I got there about five minutes after 8, I turned out to be the first one on the spot and made several loops through the biergarten before noticing a group of English-speaking young people arrive at the establishment. I joined them, had my first non-imported German beer in years (it was some brand of Edelstoff) and, as I'm beginning to find increasingly typical for international youth gatherings, learned/taught some curses and obscenities from languages, the speakers of which were present at the table (me included). We were interrupted once by an unusual occurence.
On the waterfront next to the biergarten is a youth theatre building, the foyer of which has floor-to-ceiling glass windows and doors. I had noticed its neon red sign while I was searching for the group, but didn't pay much attention to it afterwards. Suddenly, we heard commotion from that direction and when we looked there we saw a man banging on the windows and shrieking as if trying to get in or express utter despair at something. Inside the building a woman jumped up from the desk and started actively gesticulating something to the man, pointing in some direction as if directing him to a door (or just away from her?). She might have been yelling too, but we couldn't hear anything because of the glass. The man seemed to ignore her and kept throwing himself at the glass as if he was actually trying to break it. We couldn't understand what he was saying and after at most five minutes he ran away, leaving us all perplexed as to what had happened. Personally, I suspect this might have just been a staged act, maybe even an audition. I mean, I'd take anyone for a play that was willing to put up a row like that in public and do it in a believable way.
After this brief interjection from a rowdy stranger, we continued our discussion, though I do not remember what it was about at that point. I walked home through the area called Paradies because some of the students at the table lived in the dorms Europahaus and Paradies (everything in the Paradies area is called 'Paradies': dorms, cafes; I find that confusing). As all my new acquaintances left me, I decided it was time for a second attempt at getting lost in Konstanz.
This time it was night and I was a bit more tired which should have made things harder. In addition, I had a beer to drink at the cafe. "This will be fun" - I thought to myself. But it wasn't. I knew pretty much the whole way where I was and aside from an immense desire to go to visit a bathroom (beer will do that to you) experienced no discomfort whatsoever during the journey. I came home at midnight, blissfully pilgrimaged to the bathroom, brushed my teeth and went to bed.
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