blogging from a monastery
German dogs are so much more well-mannered than their American fellows. Big German shepherds pass tiny lap dogs on the street with hardly a glance, and the other day I saw a sort of retriever type being led through a Karstadt department store full of people, calmly minding his own business.
(Dogs are allowed in stores and sometimes restaurants in Germany.)
Here are two nice little guys waiting patiently outside a bakery:
And here, at a big weekend antique market in Cologne, is a very large, very furry guy:
I didn’t get a better picture because I didn’t want the dog’s owner to think I was stalking her pet. But let me tell you, I walked past him, and he just got bigger the closer I got.
So now I’m in a secluded monastery-turned-conference center, two miles from the very small town of Altenberg, with 139 other future teaching assistants–-mostly Americans, plus a few Brits and Canadians and an Australian or two. We’re getting oriented. For all the times I’ve been oriented, I should have no problem finding direction for the rest of my life.
One of the worst things about orientations is the herd mentality that governs the orientees. There is just nothing good about 140 Americans trucking through the streets of Cologne with ten months’ worth of luggage each, trying to get everything and everyone on buses for the 30-minute drive to Altenberg. This is only about a third of the group:
So far it actually hasn’t been that bad here. It’s probably good for me to learn about teaching, since I haven’t done much of it. But, as usual, I think they could probably convey everything they intend for us to learn in about half the time they’ve scheduled. There’s an awful lot of down time, and not much to do except wander the grounds.
Which are, by the way, most picturesque. I’ll get out with my camera tomorrow and prove it to you. (Though my photography skills probably aren’t up to the task.) It really is an old monastery, but no one has determined yet whether there are still monks on the premises. Their bells are definitely here, though, and they announced their presence, loudly and extensively, this morning promptly at 6 am. And then again at 7. Rather unfortunate.
I’ve met lots of people, a few of whom are going to Berlin with me, and they will actually be teaching in schools not far from mine. Except for them, though, I won’t see many of these Americans again, so I’m anxious to get on with it and meet my German roommate, and the teachers and students at my school. And it will be nice to quit living out of a suitcase and start feeling at home here. In Germany.
Gripes over orientation and all that aside, it’s still pretty great just to be here.
(Dogs are allowed in stores and sometimes restaurants in Germany.)
Here are two nice little guys waiting patiently outside a bakery:
And here, at a big weekend antique market in Cologne, is a very large, very furry guy:
I didn’t get a better picture because I didn’t want the dog’s owner to think I was stalking her pet. But let me tell you, I walked past him, and he just got bigger the closer I got.
So now I’m in a secluded monastery-turned-conference center, two miles from the very small town of Altenberg, with 139 other future teaching assistants–-mostly Americans, plus a few Brits and Canadians and an Australian or two. We’re getting oriented. For all the times I’ve been oriented, I should have no problem finding direction for the rest of my life.
One of the worst things about orientations is the herd mentality that governs the orientees. There is just nothing good about 140 Americans trucking through the streets of Cologne with ten months’ worth of luggage each, trying to get everything and everyone on buses for the 30-minute drive to Altenberg. This is only about a third of the group:
So far it actually hasn’t been that bad here. It’s probably good for me to learn about teaching, since I haven’t done much of it. But, as usual, I think they could probably convey everything they intend for us to learn in about half the time they’ve scheduled. There’s an awful lot of down time, and not much to do except wander the grounds.
Which are, by the way, most picturesque. I’ll get out with my camera tomorrow and prove it to you. (Though my photography skills probably aren’t up to the task.) It really is an old monastery, but no one has determined yet whether there are still monks on the premises. Their bells are definitely here, though, and they announced their presence, loudly and extensively, this morning promptly at 6 am. And then again at 7. Rather unfortunate.
I’ve met lots of people, a few of whom are going to Berlin with me, and they will actually be teaching in schools not far from mine. Except for them, though, I won’t see many of these Americans again, so I’m anxious to get on with it and meet my German roommate, and the teachers and students at my school. And it will be nice to quit living out of a suitcase and start feeling at home here. In Germany.
Gripes over orientation and all that aside, it’s still pretty great just to be here.
