Auf den neuesten Stand bringen

I have to type fast as I have little power and I'm at an internet cafe.

The following are a series of posts I made during the events they describe. I'm sorry for the lack of updates but as the stories will attest, I've had no internet. For the same reason I'm also terribly sorry for the lack of contact.

I have a cell phone here with free incoming calls so if you want to brave the long distance charges please go ahead (bearing in mind the 9 hour time difference). you can get it from my family at home, and/or I'll post it here the next time my computer's fully charged and I'm near a Wi-Fi hotspot.

I miss you all terribly, but I'm having fun.

Start the reading at Der Flug, and continue to here in order. I'll post more when I'm near the internets. My address can also be gained from talking to my parents. You know where to call!

Tschuss!

Die Saga des Internet

So you may all be wondering what this ‘lack of internet’ thing is all about, and why I’ve been so hard to get a hold of. Herein contains the whole sordid tale that begins in a little town called Vancouver…

Once upon a time there was a handsome scholar named Carmin. Carmin was tricked into believing that the Stusie student housing Wohnheim (house/apartment in German) was the nicest available to the Canadian Year in Freiburg program. Now this may have been true, but it was not so for our intrepid hero. He was also under the impression that the magical world of the Internet would be included in this fantastical Wohnheim.

Months went by and Carmin was whisked away to the land of Freiburg. Ohm-pa-pa bands greeted him, and German women thrust beer into his hands which were quaking with excitement. A jolly man called the Resident Director took Carmin and all his friends away to their homes, but to the surprise of both Carmin and the jolly director the room was not what they expected.

At first Carmin complained, there can be no doubt. Yet he persevered and through the help of the kingdom of Ikea and a little, old-fashioned, chemical cleaner Carmin was ready to sleep without the fear of parasites.

Bright eyed, and bushy tailed Carmin began to seek out where all the Internets could be. He looked under rocks; he looked in trees; yet there were no Internets around anywhere!
“Do you have the Internet Mr. Crow?” Carmin asked. “No Carmin,” the crow replied, “ask Mr. Owl.”
“Mr. Owl?”
“Yes, Carmin?” Mr. Owl replied.
“Do you have any Internets?”
“Me? Why no, I don’t. A Communications corporation called BreisNet® with a contract forged in hell has the rights to distribute the Internet to the students of the Stusie at prices that are by no means competitive with any of the other independent providers in the area. In fact, you’ll come across many an advertisement for fast, cheap, reliable Internet from trusted providers such as 1&1, and T-Mobile; but don’t be fooled, they’re not for you.”

At this news, Carmin was not pleased. Panic set in as Carmin realized he was not free to make the internet companies come to him, but instead a slave to one company whose monopoly can give them rights undreamed of. He also felt like someone who was about to get reamed.

“What if I don’t want to use BreisNet’s® overpriced services, Mr. Owl?” Carmin pleaded, hoping that an answer, unthought-of of before lay in the decrepit owl’s mind.
“Too, fucking, bad, Carmin,” mocked Mr. Owl. “The only other provider is the Stusie itself which offers a wired cable modem at half the speed but ¾ the price! Oh, and let’s not forget that whatever provider you choose, they’re only available to speak to you two hours a week, on certain days at certain times.”

Carmin, defeated, turns from Mr. Owl to face three men. On one side, a caricature of Capitalism, complete with monocle, top hat, and a grin that only the thought of an imminent reaming can produce; on the other side two gentlemen dressed as 1930s-style hobos fighting over the scraps of students, one of them is named Tele Columbus Net, and the other is Pentakom, and not even they know who’s in charge.

Carmin took off his pants, wiped a tear from his eye, and headed towards BreisNet’s® arms.

Tschuss!

Carmin lernt etwas neu

Today I want to introduce a segment called: Carmin Learns Something New. This will explore the myriad ways in which I am, ultimately, ignorant of living on my own and of the world around me.

Episode the 1st: Keine Münze.
It turns out that the clothes dryer takes a completely different coin than the washing machine. I come to you live from my bedroom where everything has been turned into a makeshift clothesline, and the air is thick with the smell of laundry detergent. All around you is the sight of science in action as the moisture evaporates out of my clothes and into god knows where. I really wish that the guy at the Stusie Service Point told me that Waschmaschinen tokens are completely different from Trockner tokens.

In other news, I pussed out of going to an indie bar where cute indie chicks (German ones) will no doubt fawn over my gnarly beard and rad threads. Oh well, sleep is so inviting, and that bar isn’t going anywhere.

Hopefully next week I’ll have the Internet

Tschuss!

Mein Zimmer

My Wohnheim (residence/dorm/whatever) is a stinking piece of shit. Almost literally. When I first walked in, the smell of stale Pacific Asian cuisine hit me like the cold kiss of a wet fist. “Who lives here, and why do they live?” Was my initial thought. I entered my room and found an un swept floor along with the mocking sight of a broom in the corner of the room; a condom package, its contents mysteriously absent and the mish-mash array of furniture all threatened to spell ruin onto my trip.

To go into the stages of grief and regret at this point would take up too much space on the Internet. There could be websites devoted to the various emotions that ran through me. Anger, fear, regret, helplessness, hopelessness, and hunger. My god! What have I done? I left my friends, family, and home for this? For a year? No, I have to get out of here, I have to leave. This one window I have cannot be enough to console me. Oh no! The steel shutter that adorns most every window I’ve seen in Germany so far is stuck closed. Now I don’t even have light. To top it off I have no Internet (no contact with friends, family) I have no bed-sheets (they’re also included in the room and subsequently, filthy), what the fuck am I going to do?

I spent the evening with a sleep-deprived group at the resident director’s house and then went to bed wearing my clothes on top of a crummy bare mattress.

In the morning I had a better outlook on things. The feeling of dread was almost gone, and in its place was a feeling of determination. I’m going to get this room cleaned!

Step one: Complain about everything to the resident director and get him to fix it! Sure enough, with one phone call (though, on the third day there) my shutter was fixed, I had wonderful, new, bedding, and even the door to the apartment was unstuck.

Step two: do everything else yourself. It took me four days but I finally bought all my cleaning supplies, and most of my amenities. I cleaned everything in sight with hygienic wipes, and dusters, I sprayed odor neutralizers into the room, and I have more detergents at the ready, which at the time of writing I haven’t used yet. Soon the floor will bend to my cleaning will, and the bathroom and counter top will feel the sweet caress of Meister Proper (Germany’s version of Mr. Clean).

I also splurged on some amenities including a 20-euro printer (nahce!), a stainless steel fan (which looks like it was made by a man who thinks he still lives in 1954), and a Brita filtration thingy (which rocks!)

Things were looking up, and to quote the late Kurt Cobain, who captures the situation perfectly: “Maybe I can finally get rid of that piss-stained mattress I’ve been sleeping on.”

Tschuss!

Die Busfahrt

When I saw the bus, I thought it was a joke. Parked outside the first European McDonald’s I’ve ever seen was a stubby little short-bus that one might see being ridden by the kids at school who had too much of an affinity for fire. I had no idea how it was going to fit seventeen students, a driver, a director, and all of our luggage. It barely did.

The driver (who drives like my dad, but resembles a mound of dough with hair) loaded us all in and took off. He didn’t speak a word of English, and so it was up to our resident director to do all the talking.

The drive was great. The whole way from Frankfurt to Freiburg should have taken only two and a half hours, and was filled with terrain that’s similar to the lower mainland. I kid you not; the drive to Freiburg was like the drive from Vancouver to Seattle. Now, I said, “should of only taken two and a half hours” because that time frame doesn’t include flat tires. Nor does it include repair shops that have to order in bus tires.

On the Autobahn (which is just as cool as you think it is… No speed limit!) we hit something that took out one of the bus’ many tires. We kept driving to the designated waiting area so as not to ruin too much of the trip and hopefully find a place that can fix a tire in a relatively short amount of time. When we found a place (and had to carefully drive through an alleyway with a ceiling cut into row houses) it took them two hours to change the tire because they had to go and get one from another location. Oh, they also forgot it the first time they came back.

However, this gave the group more time to get to know each other, find out where we’re from and suffer this farce together. Oh, and the driver remained completely upbeat the entire time. A few notable people at this point: Warren: The man’s outgoing, friendly, and moderately insane without being overbearing, or too much; Michael: is of German immigrant decent, and as such has a pretty good knowledge of the language and culture. He’s from Toronto, and has the exact same voice as Max Train back in Vancouver; Johana (pronounced like Yo! Hannah!): who also reminds me of someone back home. She has the exact same voice, and manner of speech as Tolmie. This girl’s pretty funny and has a bit of a crass sense of humor.

In any event, once the tire was repaired we were on our way and arrived in Freiburg well enough to get acquainted with our residences.

Tschuss!

Der Flug

For an Air Canada flight, it wasn’t too bad. I mean, there were screaming kids and cramped seats; but I’ve been on more uncomfortable flights.

We had two flights and a bus to take, and I quickly learned the pleasure that a companionship with your personal ‘on-demand’ TV can provide. The first flight was from Vancouver to Toronto, and wasn’t too bad. In this flight my ‘on-demand’ TV wouldn’t work; but people had been flying for decades without 15cm televisions so I figured I could too. I read half of The Great Gatsby and didn’t get up to use the washroom at all because the guy on the outside of me wouldn’t budge (to be fair I never made any attempt to rouse him, I just sat there like a jerk and let him sit there).

The two hour stop-over in Toronto was alright. I’ve never been to Toronto before; but I’ve now walked the length of its airport. I’ve heard that Ontario is way more Canadian than the rest of Canada, but I always thoughts such reports were simply superstitions or exaggerations (like bigfoot). No, no they’re not. I saw a couple Canadian gift shops, all of average, Vancouver, size; however the one near the gate to Frankfurt was titanic. It spanned the whole middle section of the floor, and was so large the only booths mighty enough to take on the challenge of flanking this behemoth were a Bacardi Bar (which served other drinks than the fine rum it normally pushes) and a chocolate shop; which, now that I think of it, could just have been an extension of the Canadian gift shop. Oh, and there were, like, three Tim Horton’s in there.

The wait at the Toronto airport wasn’t that grueling, as it gave time for all of the people in my group to get to know each other. It was mainly the Vancouver/Victoria group that was there, but a rather outgoing individual by the name of Warren (on exchange from the University of Manitoba) managed to find us.

The flight from Toronto to Frankfurt was much more comfortable than one would think. Yes, the seats were a bit tiny; but it was mainly the length of the flight that was murder. However the ‘on-demand’ televisions were a godsend. I watched television straight through the six and a half hour flight (I was in the middle of the plane and had no window). I started things off with some ‘Extras’, then went straight into ‘Flight of the Conchords’. I watched anything that was produced by HBO that day (Curb Your Enthusiasm; Lewis Black: Red, White, and Screwed; and finishing with ‘Kung Fu Panda’: the only movie I watched and the only thing that wasn’t HBO produced).

Finally we arrived in Frankfurt with little fanfare, and met with our resident director Herr Christian Thomas. Herr Thomas is a pretty cool guy. He’s deadpan most of the time, but shows his ability to jest by giving an exaggerated facial expression that’s halfway a grin and a grimace, which I find amusing as hell. He’s also really nice, and wont hesitate to go out of his way to help you.

So with that we boarded the bus…

Tschuss!

Ich habe nichts machen!

Yes you read that right, I haven't done anything to prepare! Well... That's not true, I've done alot. However it gets to the point where the stuff I do have to do gets to be a little much. Like packing.

I didn't want to pack earlier in case I needed some of that stuff (and I have some really good stuff!). I also have no clue, whatsoever, how to do any of the 'third-party form' stuff I need to do. For those of you who can't read my mind, 'third-party stuff' just allows someone to take care of all my affairs here that require my actual presence to do it. This involves someone having the power of attorney over me (which is a little frieghtening, even if it's just my mom...), and allows this person to get my student loans and cash them.

*At this point the journal becomes boring, and knowing that, Carmin decides to cut it off quickly so as to keep readership*

Tschuss!