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Saturday, 29 September 2012

I’m a postcolonialist, get me out of here


The orientation week is finally over and I hope I don’t have to answer odd questions asked by Americans anymore. These questions that only Americans can ask. Like which language in Germany is spoken or how licence numbers are assigned in Europe. But they are curious about us Europeans. That is good. Europe is aaaaaawesome, indeed. I’ve been very diplomatic and polite. Intercultural communication. It’s chasing me.
The last week I’ve been drinking more beer than water. But beer consists of water (besides barley, hops and malt). And I always have to drink more water. So I assume that’s ok. I think it’s not true that Germans drink more beer than every other country in Europe. Brits drink way more. The statistics are wrong.
Another thing is that living the past years in Berlin seems to make quite an impression on a lot of people. Everybody loves Berlin. Even people that have never been there. Or academic staff. I had an appointment with my academic supervisor and he did not say “Hello, nice to meet you”, he came in and said “You’re from Humboldt!”. Also, being German forces people to say something about Germans. Punctual, honest and so forth. When I asked for a stamp for my learning agreement that I have to bring back to Germany, my supervisor said: “Stamps, stamps, Germans always want stamps! I don’t have a stamp!” Or as I said that I have to write a certain amount of pages, so that I can count a course for my studies home, he replied: “Pages, pages! You’re so fussy about pages! My publisher in Berlin is always talking about pages. That I have to write more pages! Count in words!” I think the page complaining is a personal issue.
I went to an international television conference in the British Film Institute yesterday. After a few hours I discovered that the person who held the keynote speech has studied in Hildesheim. I hate the small-world-effect. And Hildesheim.
Laura

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