The End

Fifteen months ago, I started something crazy: I enrolled in two consecutive Study Abroad programs and spent the time between them with my brother in Egypt, who was also studying abroad. I figured it was an opportunity too good to pass up.

Now I'm back in the United States, and the status quo has almost returned to normal. The environment is the same, but I'm certainly not the same person who flew to Austria fifteen months ago. How could I remain unchanged, after everything I saw and did? I lived with a new family, learned a new language, and stayed abroad for over a year. I observed the extremes of the human condition, from absurd German festival traditions to the quiet horrors of Vinzidorf and Auschwitz. All of these experiences were so unique that I remember them as individual episodes that stand out against the others, not with them. That's what my plan turned out to be - hundreds of moments, each of which could have been the highlight of a student's time abroad but which instead formed the basis of my everyday life. I took a huge leap by being abroad for fifteen months, and I am a better person for it.

I wanted to be a big picture person, and I believe I have arrived.

-Jared Boze

Last Post from Germany

Kommando Rhino is gone. After reinforcing the wooden wall surrounding their community and piling shopping carts in front of the main gate, the "Rhinos" set up barricades on the streets leading to their settlement in order to slow down the police's progress. The police easily got rid of the barricades and bulldozed the whole place, leaving nothing but a fenced-off pit full of rocks and garbage. During the demolition, the Rhinos blasted melodramatic music across the police-protected zone, leaving the spectators in a scene that would have been cinematic had I not known that the Rhinos didn't pay taxes for a single day of their residency. 

It's tough to talk about this, especially since my inner satirist wants to express itself yet I know the outcome of that would be brutal and unfair. I'm not happy with 30 people being sent away with no alternative living space in sight, but what is the state going to do? The city's representatives have already done a great job of wearing their timidity and ineffectiveness on their collective sleeve while giving the Rhinos enough grief to let them invoke the ever-popular "we're living in a police state" accusations. It's been a ridiculous comedy of political errors, and to see it end is a relief, although what will happen to the Rhinos remains a mystery that I would like to see solved.

Hung upon the fence are handwritten signs from former Rhinos and their supporters. They say things like  "First the culture dies... and then the freedom!" and "this rose marks the spot where a beautiful example of individuality was violently destroyed by the power of the State." On these signs are hilarious comebacks and debates written on the posters by passersby. I'm glad to see that other people agree with me - this rhetoric is too dramatic to take seriously. Even in its aftermath, this whole thing is just too weird.

So that's that. This week has seen the end of a number of things: I'm done with all of my academic responsibilities, the program is technically over, and I've said my goodbyes at the approximately six hundred thousand farewell parties that have been going on for the past ten days. I organized a farewell party, too, and let's just be honest: my party was by far the best one. Let me tell you a story:

 In October 2010, a few friends and I were chilling at a restaurant that was to become one of our regular hangouts. While we waited for our food, we noticed a special offer on the menu: a 20-pound roast pig with stuffing and sides for 210 euro. At the time we thought it would be cool and funny to order one, and we brought it up from time to time during the months since then, but it was always regarded as a purely hypothetical idea - after all, who would put in the effort to make sure an at-least-20-person commitment to an expensive reservation would go smoothly?

I thought it would be interesting to do just that. I got 20 carnivores together (counting the vegetarians the final count was around 30 people), collected money in advance, and ordered a roast pig for a very unique and unforgettable going-away party. How do I even describe something like this?

"Gah!" comes to mind.

I'll admit that the pig looked terrifying, but that didn't keep us from eating it because it was delicious. The rest of the night went really well, with a prevailing attitude of excess. The only word that does justice to whole event is grandiose. There was an abundance of decadent food, constant conversation, and at one point I was even asked to give a speech for the first toast of the night, which I delivered with the grace and eloquence of someone who just so happened to have prepared a toast for that night. Even splitting the check went without a hitch. I honestly can't think of a way my farewell party could have been any better. 

The rest of this week is difficult to describe. I can't give a play-by-play of each and every event that happened, because to an outsider it would just look like a bunch of talking and eating. The profound sense of finality that has been present during this week wouldn't come across well in the written word, so suffice it to say that I had a good time. I'll embed a short photo album of my trip to Lake Schluchsee and the calorically perverse hamburgers I helped cook for a last-time-grilling-in-Germany party, but I will post it later since my internet access became kind of limited after I moved out of my room.

So, yeah. I've officially finished IU's IES-sponsored Freiburg Academic Year program. My American and international friends have already left the country and I've seen most of my German friends for the last time. I don't really feel sentimental but there are a few things I have here that I will regret leaving behind. In no particular order, they are the active street music scene, pub with the crew, efficient public transportation, and all the restaurants and cafes that offer student discounts for coffee and ice cream. I'll miss the real sausages, too. I concede that there are some great American hot dogs out there, but American bratwursts and German Bratwürste don't even belong in the same sentence. I'll miss an academic environment in which students ask their professors "what will we be learning in this course and what will you do to make that happen" instead of "what's on the final?". One thing I won't miss is European travel, since I went to every place I wanted to see in Europe, and the USA has plenty left to offer.

I will remember Freiburg fondly, but I don't think I will pine for the "Good old Days." What can I say - I've done what I wanted to do; I've accomplished my goals and I'm looking forward to moving on and living in Bloomington again. Even after going to so many places, I still rank Bloomington right up there with my favorite cities. I'm also looking forward to transitioning back into my American life, albeit with fourteen months of incredible experiences. Jared 2.0, so to speak.

And seeing my dog.  

That's where I draw the line.

I'm not going to say goodbye to this blog yet because there's still much to be done. I've got to hike in the Black Forest one last time, get a train ticket to Zurich, and figure out how to exchange my 6 euros' worth of 1 and 2 cent coins. I'll let you know about my final thoughts about the program and my cultural reintegration after I land in the States.

Cheers,
-Jared Boze

Freiburg ohne Rhino = Popcorn ohne Kino!

I don't really have much time to do this, but I'd like you to at least introduce you to a political situation before it is officially resolved (?) on the 31st. The demonstrators in the pics below are members of and advocates for Kommando Rhino, a sort of trailer park/shantytown that was set up right across from my neighborhood. 

Several years ago, the Kommando Rhino folks moved onto a piece of property that had just been sold by the city to a private company. The shantytown was originally a form of political protest, but after several years it became clear that they really just wanted to live there. After years of negotiations, a final deadline was set for their removal.

Yes, I said years of negotiations. When the police get involved with anything, elements of the media and anti-police protesters claim that Germany is degenerating into a police state, a statement that unfairly evokes images of Nazism and the GDR. In this case, police involvement would not have been a big deal had the Stuttgart 21 riots not occurred. Wanting to avoid a totalitarian image, Baden-Württemberg's representatives have been trying to work something out with the Kommando Rhino people. 

Two years later, nothing constructive has been done. In recent months, Kommando Rhino has tried to improve its image, calling itself an art, culture, and trailer collective, but I don't think anything they do will have any kind of effect on the issue as it currently stands. The bottom line is that the place is an eyesore and although its members have made long-term living arrangements there, they pay nothing for it. 

To protest the final deadline of July 31st, advocates of the collective staged a peaceful demonstration in the city center. Here are a few pics.

Brain Work

School is nearing its end, and I'm burning through the rest of my final exams like I'm in some kind of hurry. This isn't really a time for introspection, but it's sneaking up on me anyway. Some thoughts are relevant and practical, like "I should have done more of my presentations at the beginning of the semester." Others are more introspective-

This is certainly a weird time in my life: I'm not homesick, but I'm ready to move on. I feel like I'm mostly done here, and I guess I am - with four weeks left until I fly out of Zurich, there aren't any milestones left to prepare for.

'But Jared, shouldn't you be slowing down and savoring your time there? It's not like you'll be able to experience this same thing again. '

Are you crazy? I'm busy. Besides, I said this situation is weird because I'm ready to move on. That doesn't mean I want to leave, of course, but I've accomplished what I came to do, and now that I'm done with that, I want to reserve a few weeks just for academic work in order to have a few weeks left over to find out if I missed anything in Freiburg that's worth discovering.

One thought concerns my future; namely, how am I going to work my experiences into conversations without sounding like a jerk? It's harder than it seems. Just look at these examples:

Someone: "Jared! I'm glad you could take time out of your sexy and exciting schedule to be at my party!"

Me: "Wow! Great party, man! It's almost as crowded as the tents at the 200th celebration of Oktoberfest!"

-------

Someone: "Sure is hot out here, isn't it?"

Me: "Wow! Sure is! It's almost as hot as the time I went sandboarding in the Sahara desert!"

-------

Someone: "...and then we stayed in Florida for the entire spring break. It was the best week of my life."

Me: "Wow!That sounds almost as great as my spring break, which was two and a half months long and included going to Berlin, Krakow, and the Bavarian Alps!"

-------

Someone: "And as I gazed into the fading crimson sunset, I knew it had to be you."
Me: "I did some amateur beekeeping in the mountains of Bulgaria!"
Someone: What?
Me: LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT THE WEATHER IN GERMANY.
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I know what you're thinking - Jared, that first example doesn't make sense because you're not invited to parties. Relax. It was an illustrative tool; I'm not an open book.

Speaking of parties, there were two major parties in the past ten days that I should mention. The 4th of July party was exactly what it needed to be: a nine-hour celebration of music, grilling, and fireworks with maybe fifty people in attendance, most of whom were Americans. The second party was "Summerfest," an all-day party hosted by my neighborhood. It was the most crowded venue I've ever seen, and remember that the venue was my entire neighborhood. The scale of the mess they created was equally impressive.

It looks like people are celebrating the end of the semester and are beginning to cut their emotional ties. So am I.

-Jared Boze

I see what you did there

It certainly has been a long time between posts, hasn’t it? I hope you haven’t been too anxious – while you’ve undoubtedly hovered over your computers and smartphones for the past month just waiting for an update, I’ve spent my weekends trying the exact same strategy with mixed results.


There’s not much to talk about. All of my big travel plans have been carried out and my life goes on, as do my classes. I haven’t done anything notable during the last month or two, and that last statement is actually a lie but play along for the time being. What I’m trying to say is that my classes have been the biggest priorities.


So naturally my academic situation is something I should write about, yes? The correct answer to that riddle is ‘no.’ I’ve never delved too deeply into academics because the differences between German and American classrooms aren’t different enough for me to compose a post around the subject. Had I come to Freiburg with a fresh passport, culture shock, and a brand-new blog with no entries in it, then German academia would have been one of my first targets. But when I think about what I had seen and done before I even landed in Germany, an article on the minutiae of German education becomes the least interesting option available to me. Stay with me; I'm going somewhere with this. 


Writing isn’t getting tougher, but feeling wonder certainly is. It was easy in the beginning, though. In Austria I could think “OMGpuppetslol!” and easily turn that thought into a blog post, or at least use it in the most important part of a good post, which is the joke that shouldn’t work and probably doesn’t except for in my mind. But now what's that feeling competing with? Spending four days in Vienna was incredible. Living in Cairo was life-changing. Beekeeping in the mountains of Bulgaria…yeah I totally did that. Then there's the Bicentennial of Oktoberfest and Neuschwanstein Castle - the list goes on and on. 


Now let’s skip ahead to April 1011, when I ascended Zugspitze on a ski lift. The view from the observation deck was grander than anything I had seen before, but I wasn't emotionally excited. While this view was the best I've seen, mountain vistas aren't foreign to me anymore. It wasn't something completely novel; it was the best version of something I've already experienced.  


At this point in my life there will always be a precedent, something to which I can compare all cool things I ever do, and it raises the question of what’s better: Should I be entranced by all new things or feel an emotional response tempered by the fact that I have in fact gone sandboarding in the Sahara desert, toured Germany, and been to the top of the Bavarian Alps? I’m for the latter.


At the beginning of this thing, I said I had lied. That statement was in fact only partially correct, and by the end of this essay I plan to prove that the entire paragraph was actually a cleverly disguised imperative sentence. In the interests of full disclosure, I did go out of the country on two occasions: one of my classes went to a French comics convention, and another toured several museums in Strasbourg. I wrote about neither. Why? Because taking a day trip to the South of France is only exciting the first three times you do it. I’ve been to Strasbourg already - it’s practically across the street from me - and while Colmar was a pretty town, the comics convention did little but prove that the French comics industry handles the objectification of women with the same grace and humility as its American counterpart.

Think about that one: trips to southern France give me a "been there, done that" attitude now. Is that bad, or is it great because I've done it so many times it has become mundane? 
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And that’s the story of how I haven’t come up with new blogging material for almost a month! Blame the fundamental change in how I experience the world.

-Jared

Auschwitz, pt. 2

Auschwitz, pt. 1

No jokes in this one. The text below the video is the transcript and nothing else, so there's no need to go further than the video unless you missed something.



I walked into Auschwitz already knowing the facts, not just about the Holocaust, but the Auschwitz museum itself. I knew about the ash pits at the Birkenau complex, and I knew about the stockpiles on display, rooms full of property stolen from those killed in the gas chambers. I knew about the suitcase room and the pots-and-pans room and I was especially aware of the shoe room, which I thought would be the most disturbing one since I knew high heels and little baby shoes were large parts of the collection.

But after seeing the suitcases and the pots and pans and the shoes, I entered a room I didn’t know about: the hair room. The main exhibit was a glass case like the others, but instead of material belongings on display there was a mountain of human hair recovered by Russian soldiers after the camp was abandoned. Beside the glass case lay several yards of cloth. The guide didn’t need to explain it, but he said the hair was shaven from women’s corpses and made into blankets, nets, and clothing, while the bodies were burned to ash in one of the camps’ several crematoria. Much of the ash was poured into pits, today marked by four stone columns decorated with flowers given by survivors or family members or sympathetic visitors. What wasn’t thrown into the pits was sold as fertilizer.

There is a difference between reading about a tragedy and viewing a part of its aftermath with one’s own eyes. When read in a history book or heard on television, a large death toll has little emotional significance because numbers that large are simply impossible for me to understand as individual units. A deep, intimate, sense of empathy is impossible since there are just too many people, too far removed in time, to allow anything other than a vague, general sense of sympathy and the knowledge that this many deaths is objectively bad, two things that do little to remind me of the full extent of the victims’ humanity and the perpetrators’ lack of it. That aspect is frequently addressed in history books by cataloging the gruesome ways the Jews and many others were tortured and killed, an approach that’s so depressing and so graphically violent in description that finding a greater meaning can easily be marginalized in favor of a morbid focus on the acts themselves. While academically sound, having an understanding based only on what one would find in a well-written history book does not carry the emotional weight brought about by seeing a ten foot long pile of what is essentially severed human tissue, taken by murderers to be woven into cloth.

It is impossible for me to estimate how many people were represented by that mountain of hair, and even if I knew I wouldn’t be able to accurately visualize that many human beings. But I think it’s far more important to simply know that every braid was cut from the head of a woman who had died in pain and fear, and that massing each human loss into one incomprehensible number diminishes the significance of each individual death - each individual braid. It’s important to see the aftermath with one’s own eyes, because in this new context of proximity, the events at Auschwitz do not constitute one act of mass murder so much as they are 1.1 million individual hate-driven acts of torture and homicide. 1.1 million...In the face of such an impossibly huge number, the least I can do is acknowledge the depth of their tragedy.