Meine Mutter is schöner als deine Mutter.

So it’s been five days or so since I landed here. I’ve made the discovery that all time is relative, really. Einstein may have said it before me, but he never had to do that trans-Atlantic flight. I think I’m pretty much all good as far as the jet lag, having endured the worst those first two days. Pretty soon after I took my first nap, I met my first FU-BESTers (by the way, I already feel like a kid taking summer classes at Brown again… the way we all throw around the term FU-BEST and all of the nicknames I’m sure it will get). They were from UC Santa Barbara, the college that was founded by my mother so long ago. If you didn’t get that joke, you’ve never used my mom’s name in a “your mom” joke, and therefore must not be my friend. I’m looking at you, Dane. Barbara is not your plaything, she’s my mother.

Anyway, I soon found out that like, half of FU-BEST is California kids. I was hoping for a very international mix, but as luck would have it it’s mostly Americans. It was alright, because now that I’ve lived in L.A. for a summer I feel like I at least have something to talk about, even though when I mention Los Angeles they all look at me like my face is horribly and permanently disfigured, as well as my brain. Who the hell would live there? I smile and nod, secretly rubbing my hands together as I plot how to take them down with all of my ill-gotten future gains. But I digress- back to my FU-BESTering fellows. There were Hanna and Marcus, getting out of a taxi as I dithered around wondering what I was going to do for dinner. So we said hi and decided that our chances of survival were better together. We went off to a smashing restaurant called Litehouse next to the café I had eaten at earlier. I had my first Heifeweizen (I think that’s how it’s spelled, please don’t kill me for not knowing), a nice tall half-liter of golden wheat beer. It was glorious, and Marcus managed to make me feel like a newbie by telling me all about his many drinking exploits in Berlin (he had been three or four times before, making him the logistical/explorational expert of our small group the next day).

That was also the moment that it chose to start raining, but luckily we had a massive umbrella outside. This was, as well, the moment when I discovered that Marcus has a deep fear of getting caught in heavy Berlin rain (which is very reminiscent of that on Lost, for all you fellow used-to-love-it-too fans), due to his very traumatic experience of having been caught in the rain one day on a Berlin street with no umbrella or coat, and his embarrassment and shame after ducking into a nearby bar where everyone laughed at him, including the pretty girl at the bar. I’m going to say something deep and full of myself here; if you want to skip this part, just go two lines ahead and I won’t judge you.

“The pretty girl at the bar” is the inspiration of most notable historical events.

Whew. That’s over. So we enjoyed beer in the rain, while I impressed them with my limited skills. It was great to be the most skilled speaker in the group, until the next day when this girl Liva showed up, and then another girl who spoke absolutely fluently. Liva is our new organizational expert, coordinating a massive rush of us tomorrow as we try and get to the orientation spot. We’ve already seen the FU-BEST building, and it’s literally a house in a neighborhood, with maybe five classrooms and a couple offices. A little ghetto but it looks like it’ll do. No large ampitheatre lectures this semester; and it’s a shame, because those of you out there, you all know how much I love to sleep. Funny, because right now I don’t, and I have to be up in six hours. You’re lucky I’m not tired, otherwise you wouldn’t get this incredible post.

What else? I toured around Berlin a bit with Hanna and Marcus after that first day. They stood me up for breakfast as Marcus had changed his cell phone to the wrong time, so I sat alone and moped. Well not really, I couldn’t mope for long, because it was pretty delicious. I’m very easy to please when it comes to breakfast. Just give me a hot steaming roll of good bread and something to put on it, and I’m in heaven. They pretty much do that everywhere here in Europe, so I’m in luck. In the city, though, we saw the TV Tower, this massive tower (Marcus, after getting over his shock of me not knowing what it was, described it as being a disco ball stuck on top of a pencil) that the Soviets put up in the Cold War to block incoming radio stations from West Berlin. You can go up inside and look around 360 degrees at the surrounding city, and spot sights like the Brandenburg Tor, which marks the East-West wall, and also the Reichstag. We didn’t go see the Reichstag, since we apparently have a scheduled visit to the chancellor’s office there one Friday. If we got to meet Angela Merkel, that would be the bee’s knees. But we did check out the Brandenburg Tor, and apparently the hotel right next to it is, I think, the most expensive hotel in all of Europe. It’s got a presidential suite and everything, and it’s right next to all of the embassies, including ours. We can’t even enter our own embassies as Americans, because apparently it’s for dignitaries and VIPs only. Bitches.

We also went to the Jewish Memorial right there, which is insane. I saw a picture of it before I came, but it’s nothing compared to walking through it. There are just rows and rows and rows of black elongated pillars, all different heights, and you walk between them and they just run on and on. Apparently they guy who made it has stated it’s not supposed to be symbolic in any way. Symbolic, right? So that was cool, but the museum was closed. Another day, perhaps. As students we get a free pass to all the Berlin museums (I know, you’re jealous, Amanda) as well as metro (U-Bahn and S-Bahn) cards for the whole semester. That one’s going to be a lifesaver.

After our brief tour of the city’s sights, we returned to find a whole host of FU-BESTers, and ended up 15-strong at a nearby restaurant called Macedonia. I still can’t believe that woman was so nice to us, but then again we were pretty much her only business. And that’s how it’s been since then. I’ve moved into the apartments by now and there are probably 50 of us spread out throughout the building. I’m on the eighth floor of my building and I have a pretty awesome view of the city in the distance and the surrounding environs. It compensates somewhat for the walk up that I have to make, or elevator ride if I dare to wait ten minutes for it to get its rear in gear. Or make its ass go fast. Whichever. The apartment itself could be a lot worse. A lot of the cabinets and such are paneled wood, with way more space for one person than any of us could need, even with our massive suitcases. You know it’s Germany when they give you a free beer opener and wine cork in your drawer.

All of us have our cell phones worked out, but no Internet, except for a few stolen moments of wireless every now and then when we’re lucky. The cell phones were hard enough, and it took us about an hour alone to configure them. None of this technology is as simple as it should be, even though I’ll admit we are slightly demanding when it comes to having our basic technological necessities. For the first few days, it was of course a relief to not have to worry about Internet or such things, but at this point everyone just wants to talk to their friends at home. Also, when I’m away from my news sites for more than a week, I start to worry that I’ll miss some blurb that would normally make me go “Holy shit!” I do like to be updated on my film news, at the very least. I don’t feel that that is too much to ask, and if you do, then you are a different person, which is most certainly true. At least I have toilet paper. My little was in India this summer, and I am pretty sure he was unaware that many Indians wipe with their hands. I wished him well in his endeavours with “that.”

During one of my brief Facebook checks, I saw Sebastian Henckel von Donnersmarck’s comment about my status, the one that said I landed safely in Germany and all was well. His response was “I hope you buried your parachute, or else we’ll come looking for you.” I think I gave someone a heart attack, I laughed so loud. I had no idea anyone in Germany, let alone someone who’s not of my generation, could be so cavalier about World War II, but I guess he proved me wrong on that count. Unfortunately, seeing as contact is almost impossible even with people in Germany, or has been until recently, I haven’t yet met with my fellow writer. So that sucked, but I’m sure we’ll be able to work out another date to meet up for lunch.

I guess that about sums it up. I walked into a random cathedral (a constant goal of mine), went to a very small museum called the Altes Museum, full of Roman and Greek statues that were modified and combined from copies of originals that they apparently did not have the funds to borrow from Italy’s vaults. I’ve seen a couple of the big malls around here (one of them features a television-screen ceiling that makes it look like an aquarium above your head). All in all it’s going well so far. I know, I know, except for Marcus and Hanna I haven’t told you about any of my fellow friends. Don’t worry, intrepid readers. I’ll be sure to save that for another post. You shall hear about the daring deeds of Luke, Daniel, Jenna, Virginia, Drew, Brendan, Jessie, Liva, Brian (yeah, what a bitch move! having my name and all), and many others. Tune in next whenever for news of my long-winded orientation day, followed by some city boat tours.