The New Guy

The past week offered some fresh perspectives on work, Saarland, dancing, and the Black Forest.

Let's start with work, where a reality check manifested itself in the form of a new intern named Jan (pronounced with a soft J, rhymes with...uhh...electron). Since he's only staying for four weeks, rather than starting up with his own assignment, his job is to follow me around. That's right, I have an intern.

I took the sniffling and clueless lad under my wing and taught him everything I know about passaging cells and running cytotoxicity tests. It was painfully obvious that didn't encompass a large volume of information. Jan caught on quickly, though he still talks funny and spells things wrong. Oh yeah, did I mention he's English?

Jan reminded me of my humble beginnings as a Praktikant at the Institute as well as showed me how far I've come and how far I've yet to go. I plan to delegate him my "busy work" tasks so I can learn new things, design my own tests, and implement special elements in a sensor program I'm (supposed to be) working on. This is pretty much what my boss is doing with me...moving up the food chain, baby!
On Wednesday, the day of my first Salsa lesson, the elevated sketch-factor of the situation aroused apprehension along with my excitement. It may it may have been because the instructor was over-eager to have me join and even organized a ride to some Kuhdorf (cow-village) outside town, or that there was no website or building or anything, but it was only when we pulled over in the middle of nowhere and started driving up a steep, narrow road that I started having premonitions of my death.

And all of a sudden I couldn't breathe. Since I had arrived in Saarland, some obstacle had always stood in between me and the horizon, but the pinnacle of the Erlenbacher Hof at dusk provided a panorama which was both typical German and extremely beautiful (two qualities that, in my opinion, go hand-in-hand!).

The lesson featured a dash of Merengue with a kick of Bachata, and was topped off with a whole lot of Salsa. If that sounds tasty, it may be because at least two of those dances are edible. They were very unlike my previous ballroom dance experiences at UM in both technicality and attitude, but I feel like I can benefit from the looseness of these latin lessons. They are more about having fun than trying to impress adjudicators (but man, those heel-leads everyone was pulling were SO whack).

ACHTUNG: SPANDEX (wawaweewa)

For the weekend, I trained to the Black Forest and visited Onkel Hans-Peter and Tante Monika. The Schwarzwald is really pretty and packed with scenic routes. In addition to a Rad-Tour and hitting up my favorite local waterpark, I ate/drank many local delicacies from the region famous for its cakes. My relatives showed me pictures from their travels in New Zealand and Fiji, but I can think of nothing more spectacular than the train ride back to Saarland through the heart of the Black Forest, between mountains and through tunnels in a bright red train...seriously, that s*** could've been in Polar Express or something.

These Hips Don't Lie - Nor Translate

There are three important things everyone should know before going to Germany: Right is left, left is right, and you are wrong.

OK, maybe that's not entirely true. But it certainly is when it comes to ballroom dancing. When Germans line up to get on the dance floor, girls are on the left and guys on the right. Huh!? Also, when starting a waltz, guys step forward on their right foot and start going in a box counter-clockwise. WTF!?! This country has a knack for taking things that are familiar to me and turning them inside-out and upside-down. (Don't even get me started on recycling.)

So how did I get into this situation?

After 13 long years of school, Germans receive their Abitur (diploma) and are finally able to accomplish what they have strived to do for so long: Party it up! After taking their exit exams, they parade/go wild around the school, called Abistreich. Then there is the Abifahrt, a week-long class trip. And natürlich there are Abipartys galore. But the climax is the Abiball, the German version of Prom, complete with ballroom dancing!

Thankfully, the Germans are sensible enough to practice these dances as a grade beforehand. You can imagine my excitement as I entered the Tanzkurs with my friend Lena - after all, dancing and German girls are pretty much my two favorite hobbies. The music started, and the shock shortly thereafter. It was a strange hybrid of being in my element while experiencing something new.

When it was all said and done, dance practice was a great success. I danced with four German girls (cha-ching!) and learned a fun new dance called the Disco-fox (video to come?). During the cha-cha, I also managed to attract somewhat of a crowd with my hip-movements (Wa-wa-wee-wa). Alas, I was focusing on the rhythm and couldn't quite catch if they were gawking or laughing at me, but it's all good. After all I learned from them, it was the least I could to show them how we shake it in the States.