...and the water's just fine.

Getting accustomed to life in Saarland is like entering a cold lake. There are two ways to do so:

1) Take it slow and wade in.

This method might seem easy, but when you hesitate and skeptically analyse every oddity, it can become quite uncomfortable. For instance, you might wonder what language they speak over here. (It's referred to as the local Platt, and just to give you an idea, some of the locals require subtitles to watch movies that are already in German.)

I'm here for three months, but if I would immerse myself in centimeter intervals I still wouldn't get the head-to-toe experience I'm looking for. That's why I instead favor...

2) CANONBALL!

Yeah, that's right. Pile that brownish mush of a local delicacy on. Let's go bolzen, whatever that means (clue: check out the picture!). What's that, we missed the bus? Let's invent a way home...Saarland isn't that big anyway, it's not like we could get lost or anything.

The way to learn a language and a culture is definitely this method...although "cannonball" might be an overly delicate phrase for this approach. A typical day for me could be better likened to being shoved off the 10 meter platform. Of course, there are also the "graceful swan dive with the swimsuit's drawstrings too loose" days as well.

Although I might have been tempted to "wade in", fate has led me to the brink of German life and given a good push. Yesterday I signed some papers, in what appeared to be some sort of ritual one performs upon joining a Wohngemeinschaft, a group of students who live and pay rent together. I was surprised to learn that my landlord is actually a 12-year-old boy named Langerhans who will only accept Bundesliga trading cards as payment. Just kidding, I wasn't that surprised.

Don't erase your bingo cards, the next update will be coming shortly.