A Post Post Post Germany Post

I know I know. Half of my blog is about Germany. But I just got a rather large wave of nostalgia yesterday, and again today.

Yes, I know it may seem slightly strange to be nostalgic over an experience that was not that long ago, and didn't last that long.

However, because Germany gave so much me, I think I owe my last post of the year to it.

German people drive you crazy. They are friendly, in a "mind your own business" sort of way. They are like bears, or moose, or bees. You don't bother them, they won't bother you. Of course, as like here, there are the people who are naturally rude, or loud, or angry for no good reason. But, as a whole-- we Americans like to get up into each other's space.

Which I don't think is necessarily a bad thing.

I think spilling your life story to your hairdresser is more an American thing. I know this, sort of, because my hausfrau (sort of like my... homestay home owner lady) was so reserved. She never bothered me, but she would invite me to drink tea with her sometimes. She made dinner for me the first day I was there, and she worried that I was sad, homesick, or not getting enough to eat. But she never told me these things. Every day, she would knock on my door, peep her head in, and say in her halted English, "Julie? Are you okay? Did you have a good day?"

And I said, "Yes, I am fine." And she would smile and nod and then close the door and watch TV in the other room.

She was kind. But I never, not once, felt the need to talk to her about my family, my school, my job, my personal problems or anything.

And yet, as soon as I get back home, I drank in the more-personal culture like a withered houseplant.

I honestly can't decide which I like better.

I like feeling comfortable with others and trusting them with "non-surface level" communications. But I also really like that it wasn't an expectation in Germany to share personal experiences and backgrounds. I guess you feel more like you can bring the future to the table, and you can move on from things faster. At the same time, everything progresses slower: relationships, friendships, major life decisions, etc. I think that's why Germans have dogs. Dogs are not very personal in the personal area of life.

I think its a less dramatic and more simple way of dealing with people.

Without spontaneity. And colors a little (a lot) dulled down.

Give Me Life

Today I will write about pop-tarts.

I know that most of the time, good writers introduce their subject with a little more subtlety, but honestly, pop-tarts are anything but subtle.

Ingredients: Enriched wheat flour, corn syrup, high fructose corn syrup, dextrose, oil, sugar.... and a whole heap of other things...

Nutrition facts: Fat-5grams, Carbs-38grams-- sugar 16grams... Protein, wait Sugar, 16 grams!

NO subtlety here. No, the corn syrup and sugar are printed clearly on the box, next to a large orange banner saying "Good source of seven vitamins and minerals."

Hmm.

I have nothing else to say, except... why do I like them?

Looking Back and Moving Forward

Well, this year has been a rather fantastic roller coaster. I know I have changed a lot because of the experiences, but as I sit here on my bed, listening to Tennis Shoes Adventure Series, I feel very much like the same old me.

This year I have learned some very valuable lessons. The first lesson is that everything, and anything, can change. I think I knew this before, but this year I really really learned it-- I saw it happen. Never had I ever felt more less in control than I did this year-- literally at the mercy of God.

I also learned that I have so much more capacity to learn-- sometimes, when I really feel that I understand something-- a new thing occurs that brings even greater enlightenment, making me realize that I really didn't know as much as I did before.

This was the year I planned my wedding-- this was also the year that I didn't get married. This was the year I went to Germany-- this was also the year where I really learned what it means to have a home. This was the year I started my senior year of college-- this was also the year where I realized I still have a long way to go before I will be a teacher-- regardless of when I graduate. This was the year I really understood that God is in control and that I am never alone-- this was also the year that I felt more alone than I ever have in my life.

But when I think about it all, I am not filled with sadness-- even though there have been moments of extreme pain, fear and loneliness-- I am filled with hope. This is Christmas Eve. Two thousand years ago, my Savior was born in a manger, and angels were singing in the sky. He is hope. He is peace. And if He is there, then I will always be okay. Like the stars that shined so bright that night in Bethlehem, His love shines inside me and heals me.

If this year coming up is anything like the last, I think I should feel afraid. But I'm not. For the angel said, "Fear not, for behold I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day, in the city of David, a savior, which is Christ the Lord."

Give It Some Thought

Boredom.

The thing that causes us to eat too much, sleep too much, serf the net too much, watch too many movies, and buy too much stuff.

Here's a suggestion:

Get out and make some people happy. Compliments. Soup. Cookies. Caroling. Sharing the good news of Jesus Christ, our Savior.

The Middle Seat of the Car

have you ever had a secret dislike of people who call shotgun before you even remember that you're actually going somewhere?

my thought process goes something like this:

Dang it. I should've called that. Why don't I ever remember that the front seat is desirable? Why do they always call it anyway? There should really be a different system, one that favors those who are not quite up on the game of survival of the fittest. One that helps really whiney people like me, who next to never get to sit in front all because of a stupid rule called shotgun.

I decided to retaliate by calling the middle. You know, the seat everone avoids, because your legs are spread over that awkward hump in the middle, and the seat doesn't dip down. Take that selfish shotgun callers! That's right-- now I have made the middle desirable. At least.... I think.

Yesterday, on a long drive to Canada, me and the middle seat became eternal partakers of the love hate relationship. Yep... five hours with a bag between your legs and another behind your head will do that.

I was about ready to call shotgun after that one was over-- my hips were asking me what I ever did to them to make me hate them so much. I, in turn, was dreaming of the ever elusive front seat.

Up Up Up...

Well it's been getting colder. It hadn't really snowed past the point of the mountain yet.

That is... until Friday night.

There we were, in a little car, on a little road... and driving through the mountains (or trying to) in an out and out BLIZZARD. About halfway through Parley's Canyon... we thought, perhaps we shouldn't go further.

Back story: My beau had invited me to join some friends and family at a cabin past Park City. I was like... YES! nature. Check. out of the city? Check. With some really awesome people? Check.

We were driving out to meet said friends and family, at said cabin.

We turned around and drove to the closest friend's house. The roads were awful, and the snow was coming down thicker and thicker the more we got into the mountains. Upon arrival, what should we discover, but that NO ONE had been heading up to the cabin except us-- they had all changed their minds.

I roominated on the scenario-- what would have happened if Julie and Stephen had continued to cabin alone?

A situation were he slept in the car, and I slept inside.

Needless to say, we were suddenly very grateful for the blizzard that turned us around.

This is me, signing off.

Say It Loud

Say it proud.

Where does the time go? I speculate that maybe it goes into the things we do. Imagine time, a tangible, somewhat silky thing (probably blue) actually going into class, going into facebook, going into those oreos that you munch on the way to class. I think things eat time. No. Things feast on time.

You'd think stuff would get tired of eating up all my time, and letting me keep more of it to myself. But those things are like greedy dinosaurs eating all the tree stars before the short little long neck can get to them.

Yes I may or may not have just compared myself to Littlefoot.

Feasts of time.

My only question now:

Why does water expand when it freezes?

What Comes Around

So, after living on only bread and peanut butter for five days, you start to feel like this:

and then after you get all stressed about money and school and have eaten nothing but peanut butter and bread for five days, you feel like this:

and then when you have fantastic people who give you support, love and friendship, you mostly just look like this:

For all those unaware... this is a happy face. A good face. A very grateful face.

That's How You Change a Life

I don't know why I feel the need to have such sappy posts all the time, but I do.

So here it is. Julie's tribute to love.

I love love.

And forgive me for quoting one of the most cookie cutter chick flicks in existence, but great love doesn't come around often. And when it does, we gotta learn to pay attention. I don't know if loving your best friend, or love at first sight, or love after three days are only things that happen in romantic movies. But, I do know that love changes you. And it changes you a lot.

Loves teaches you to sacrifice. It teaches you how not to complain. It teaches you everything you need to know-- but not in your head. It teaches you in your heart. And somehow, once you learn to love somebody, your ability to love them just gets bigger. And your capacity to love others just gets better.

But it's the great love side of things I really want to talk about.

Great love is love that you can't find everywhere, and certainly not with just anyone. Everyone has at least one person that they love with great love -- love that causes them the most joy, just because it exists, and love that causes probably the most pain.

I guess want I want say is that you should never take love for granted.

Scary Movies... Scary Life

I have never really had friends who enjoy scary movies. Not at all.

I don't enjoy them. But somehow, people still want to talk me out of my very strong dislike of horror, my very strong aversion to walking dead, demons, hauntings, paranormal activity.... all of it. It's like I have told them that I don't like brownies, or unicorns, or Lucky Charms cereal (which, by the by, is nasty... although I have nothing against the irish).

The first reaction is a reassurance that this move isn't THAT scary. To me, that means about half of it will be spent with a blanket over my head, or with my fingers in my ears.

The second reassurance (especially from guys) is that if I'm scared, I can always rely on them for support and comfort. To me, that means that I need a whole batch of girls with whom I feel comfortable cuddling up to-- because holding onto a guy when I'm scared is a little too Hollywood for me (unless I am dating said guy).

The third reassurance is that nothing in this movie is real. I know that. But to me, the fear isn't in the idea that zombies might come and attack me at night, or that a serial killer is right outside my window with a ten inch knife. The fear is knowing the inherent ungodliness of it. I am not on a vendetta to say that all people who watch scary movies are somehow bad. Not at all. But I do know how I feel when I am watching a blind girl running from a man trying to kill her, or when children are the objects of evil spirits. I know it's not real. But I also known it's not right. At least not right for me.

So, scary movies, consider this as me, signing off. For good.

Butternut Squash Soup

I just ate a bowl of butternut squash soup. It was so delicious that I decided to blog about it.

Might I just say that putting good things into your body is soooo important?

A little bit of nerdy infor about my beautiful orange friend, Mr. Buttenut Squash

One cup of this plant contains only eighty two calories-- a mildly sweet flavor that lends itself both to savory and to sweet things. It also has 457% of the daily value of vitamin A, and half of the vitamin C that you need. Skip the the daily vitamin and feed yourself some squashes! Calcium, phosphorus, magnesium, thiamin-- you don't need enriched breakfast cereal when you eat what God gave you.

So I'll enjoy my lovely warm bowl of soup as the colors of fall stream through the curtains, and as the taste of of fall embraces my taste buds.

Eat some squash! :)

Cornaphobia

Yes you read the title right.

Yesterday I went to the corn maze at thanksgiving point. But it's not just a corn maze. It's kind of a fall fair sort of feeling, with music and pig races and scones for sale at those cheap trailer concessions. There was also this black box called "buried alive and cornaphobia".... which combined gross hanging things in darkness, the smell of dirt, blowing wind and waving anima-tronic corn with claustrophobia. It was freaky-- but cool now that I look back on it.

We spent ... a long time... getting lost in the maze. And, we spent an even longer time getting un-lost in the maze. It seemed that no matter what path we took, we always ended up back where we started. Not desirable, let me tell you.

But I noticed something thought provoking out in that corn. The field seemed to go on forever, and the sky above us seemed endless, save for the mountains which brought the sky to an end. But you noticed it just the same. Sometimes I feel that way. I feel like I have this endless potential and that I, and others, can only see a very small part of it. But even though I can only see a little bit of the sky, I still believe there is more. Even though I can only see a little bit in myself, I still believe there is more. And the best part is-- even though I can only see a little bit of Heavenly Father's plan for me, or for everyone, I still believe-- I still know-- that there is a way out of the corn maze where I can find joy and peace and love. Sometimes we might feel that we're stuck in a maze-- we don't know what to do, and we don't know how long it will be until we finally reach the end. But there is someone who knows. And even though we can't see it right this minute-- the possibility for something great is ALREADY there, maybe even on the other side of the mountain that can keep us from seeing the whole sky.

We are taught that truth comes to us line upon line... one thing at a time. I feel like that might apply to people too-- we get to know others and we get to know ourselves one glimpse of sky at a time.

Lessons from a Halloween corn maze.

In A Pineapple Under The Sea

I always thought it was awkward that the word awkward has two w's around a k. For some reason, that always seemed to make me feel uncomfortable. Anyway... moving on.

There has been this really random (and quite nasty) smell building in our apartment for a while. A few days ago, I was like, huh, what is that weird smell? It was kind of sweet, but not in a good way, but I could only smell it sometimes. But as the days passed along, the smell grew more and more pungently gross. It seemed to be coming out of a small brown cabinet that is usually empty.

Then I remembered that my roommate has moved some of her groceries into said cabinet a few weeks ago because her shelf in our pantry was pretty full. My memory seemed to recall that she has purchased a pineapple. And some other fruit.

I chanced opening the door. And sure as sure, the pineapple AND the other fruit lay withering in juices. However... it was not my pineapple. And so Melanie and I agreed we should leave it for when the owner returned home.

We welcomed her back today.

And while she walked by us, we casually said, "Oh hey, so there's a rotten pineapple in there."

She removed the offender.

But it still smells pretty bad here.

Ample Vanity?

Well. I guess it depends on what you mean by using your time wisely. Because according to pinterest, they want to world to be able to connect through pictures. Cool goal. I think most people like it though, simply because they like to look at things. Me? I get caught up in wondering how they braided that hair. Or where they got those china cups. Or how long it would take me to paint all my cabinets french green, and my kitchen walls yellow with cream colored backsplash tile.

It makes you wonder a bit about the vanity. Are we really there to connect with other people, or just to collect stuff that we like and then dream about getting the stuff that we collected?

I think it could inspire us to create.

Or it could waste a lot of time.

But seriously... green cabinets are AMAZING.

A Little Beauty

To what have I been spending my days? My job of course!

I work as a landscape specialist for BYU grounds crew. Yay.

What do I do?

well... my crew takes care of this stream... which is artificial and almost a half mile lone. There is a walking trail beside it all made out of expocrete paving stones. Don't be fooled by the innocent appearance of this waterfall (one of many, I might add)-- the hill appears to be nothing more than a grassy knoll with a quiet stream set in to please the eyes of all passers-by.

It isn't. That hill has earned the nickname "Hell Hill"... among others, because it is impossibly steep, stony and features little to no green growth. Rotting stumps and knarled roots are becoming exposed by erosion-- and the topsoil always goes to one place... the bottom of the lovely stream.

So, Julie's supervisor discovers she has some experience with landscape and products. He then comes to her and says, This is your new project. Make that hillside beautiful-- and stop the dirt from falling into the stream.

Several cubic yards of rocks, a few natural stone retainment walls and bucket after bucket after bucket of organic mulch later-- this very ugly area is finally starting to look like how should have looked all along: beautiful.

I think I'll pat myself on the back.

Friends

I love my friends. This sounds like a silly high school type cliche statement, but I really really do love my friends.

I think I read more into the title, "Friend" than most. A friend, to some, is someone who you meet, who you like, and who you recognize as you walk down the street, and you have the liberty to stop and say hello. Friends, to others, are those people who you know you can always call to go hang out, to grab chinese, to go sledding-- and they usually always come. A friend, to others still, is a person who will bear with you, help you, love you and sacrifice for you.

Recently, a lot of hard things have happened. I turned to my closest friend, my Savior, Jesus Christ, for help. And this is why I love my friends.

He is perfect. He loves me. He never gives up on me. He believe in me. He sees me as I am, and accepts me anyway. He weeps with me. He comforts me. He gave his life for me. He never leaves me alone.

The beautiful thing about having Christ as a friend is that you start to want to be that kind of friend to others. I have a deep, inexpressible love for my beautiful friends. I know that I am not the easiest person to be a friend to, mostly because I require a lot of strength from my friends, especially in times when I am weak and could not possible go it alone. And so when I see them pull through for me, time after time, and every time I see them reach out to make my life better, I feel an overwhelming gratitude that I cannot possibly express in words. These are the people I can trust. These are the people, I know, who like my Savior, won't give up on me.

Love is such a powerful and healing emotion. I think it is what people seek above anything else. I think I learned what charity (love) is from, first, my Redeemer, and second, from my friends. And so the time is long overdue for me to express my love for them. I wouldn't be the person I am now without all of those bearing me up.

The Lord once said to Joseph Smith in liberty jail:

"My son, peace be unto thy soul... Thy friends do stand by thee, and they shall hail thee again with warm hearts and friendly hands."

I apologize for the sappiness of this post, but I want to share my conviction that I know that good and noble friends are blessings from my Father in Heaven in my life. He knows how much I need them, and how much I need the opportunity to be a good friend to others.

God is great.

Picking Plums

SO I work for grounds crew. My job is to design some sort of retainment mechanism for a really steep hill of dirt. When it rains, the hill erodes into a large water feature that cost the university millions to build. My supervisor found out that I worked for a landscaping company and all of a sudden believes I am wonder woman when it comes to design and asked me to head this project.

I started working on it on Monday.

You'd think I'd get a lot of satisfaction doing that instead of weeding or mowing lawns. I do. But, the absolute best part...

They planted these terrible trees that have super messy fruit that drops all over the paving stones. I spent the majority of my life hating these horrible trees. Until I found out that the fruit was edible! PLUMS.

So, as I did almost nothing today, I decided to hike up the hill and climb the tree and pick them and eat them. People gave me super weird looks as they passed on the walkway underneath me. But... when you're poor... you get food where you can.

Next week, I might dig for edible roots and scour the mountainside for wild strawberries.

Can You Spell Tired

Well I have never been a mom, but I find that I am absolutely EXHAUSTED today. I think it will help if I write down my accomplishments of the day.

1. Woke up at six and ran to the trailhead of Y mountain (it uphill the whole way).

2. Showered, made oatmeal for breakfast.

3. Did grammar exercises for class.

4. Went to class at nine.

5. Went to work, where I carried rocks up hill for a few hours.

6. Went to class, where we learned more grammar.

7. Went to work and carried more rocks and dug detainment walls into the side of an impossibly steep hill, for another few hours.

8. Walked home and started reading Karl Marx for one of my classes.

9. Made spaghetti.

10. Started blogging.

It really wasn't that bad of a day. I feel very accomplished, but also worried for all the things that I didn't finish, and yet, seem to lack the mental brain power or physical energy to carry on. To think I was planning on hitting the gym tonight. Ha ha ha. :)

A Groundbreaking Event

So... my family has never been much for sports or anything. I mean watching them. My sister played volleyball, my other sister played rugby and my brother wrestled. My dad coached soccer.

BUT...

For some reason there was no watching of the super bowl and very little following of hockey night in Canada-- unless some team that we sort of new made it to the play-offs.

How is it, some of my American friends may ask, that I made it to my senior year of college without once ever watching a football game, live or on TV? Well, that is the way it was.

Today that changed. I watched BYU play Texas... on the TV, with corn chips and salsa on the table. I yelled when our team dropped the ball (which seemed to happen far too often, despite my limited game knowledge), I cheered when we scored-- and suddenly, I felt as though I had bonded over a beautiful, purely American ritual. I felt close to the smelly, jeering guys.

I moved forward today.

The Happiest Place on Earth

The temple? Disneyland? Canada?

All happy places. But the happiest of all?

D.I.

For those of you who don't know... DI stands for deseret industries... and it basically the largest and least expensive second hand store you will find anywhere. Cool?

It is pretty much a dream come true for every penniless newly married couple, every person who has ever dreamed of having a great halloween costume, every poor student who can't afford a new pair of jeans, a new tv, or a new... anything. Hat. Mittens. Scarves. Shoes. Grandfather clocks. Shelves.

Thats pretty much the only constructive thing I did today.

Don't You Just LOVE it?

Language.

Today I was thinking about language a lot. Well, the past little while I have been thinking about language a lot. I decided that we think about language backwards. If I say a word like "trite", somebody will ask me, "What does trite mean?"

That's not the question you should ask. A word means nothing. A word only represents something that is a meaning. There is a difference.

I realized this while in Germany, but it solidified upon my return to good ol' U S of A. Because today I was sitting in the library, and a glorious sound fell upon my ears. A young man, sitting almost directly behind me, received a phone call. And before I could register my complete annoyance that he answered it, he answered it like this:

Hallo! ... Ja, ich bin gut. Studierst du hier jetzt? ... ah, du bist shon fertig... Nein, nein. Ich bin nicht verheiratet....

And instead of annoyance, my heart was filled with joy! Not because he was not married, but because it had been a whole week since such beauty had filled my ears.

Words represent meanings. For in German, or in English, it was what this person meant that was being conveyed-- I simply am now able to have two ways to discover the SAME meaning. Glorious.

I'm still smiling.

Friend Wanted

I was talking to my mom on the phone about how weird it is to be starting this new year from scratch. New apartment. New roommates. New ward. New area of Provo. New classes. New beginning. NEW. It's a weird word.

But the hardest part was the part that I call "the people change". All of the people I love, my people, for the most part, are no longer part of my BYU experience. Not only do I have very few people whom I can call to just hang out, but also very few people whom I feel comfortable talking to at all-- those people, who, when I am with them, I can be nobody other than myself. Where I can express my love for scrabble without fear of appearing lame or nerdy, or admit that sometimes, when I am alone, I watch little house on the prairie or the scarlet pimpernel on youtube, without ever feeling less cool or anything else. I have lost the majority of the people with who I feel confident.

Woah.

And so, with tears streaming down my face, I explained this dilemma. And people always assume that I want someone to date, or some significant other, or something. Not the case. I just want a friend. A good friend. Who will play scrabble with me, or teach me how to lift weights at the gym without intimidating me.

The solution?

Go to the buy and sell board at the WILK and post this:

FRIEND WANTED

Must be willing to play scrabble and do other random silly things. Must not fear the outdoors.

Meals will sometimes be provided for friends.

Please call.

Well. I thought about it.

Maybe next week....

Go

Pancakes With White Flour

First day of school. In elementary school it is mostly a great excuse to meet up with new friends as pack your desk with your new school supplies (nothing is more exhilarating than opening all your new pencils and lining your white erasers up and having a new back-pack with your name inked on in sharpie). You go to school in your bestest back to school clothes, new shoes, and socks that won't stay white for very long. Such were the days of recess.

In middle and high school, the air is also tinged with expectancy toward new boys, dances, comparing brand names of new clothes, learning your locker combination and learning how to skip class without getting caught. Such were the days of student government, homecoming, and who is dating who-- along with those exams and grades that you need to get to college.

And then suddenly you're there. Everybody is still wearing new clothes--- but nobody notices you wearing them. You go to class, get a syllabus, get overwhelmed when you look at the semester calender and realize how little you're going to be sleeping, start that part time job--- and go home to a can of black beans for dinner.

It gets even better at BYU, because not only can you feel the tension of the start of the new semester, you can also feel the eyes of people everywhere sizing up the people around them. Sometimes, I feel like campus is nothing but eyes-- looking, looking.... not only for new people to befriend and date, but for people you know, that you might run into. We all secretly love seeing a familiar face, and love it even more when that familiar face sees yours and they... SMILE.

Gotta love college.

Mack the Knife

The title of this post is the title of a Bobby Darin Song. Coincidence? Perhaps not.

No, since returning home, I have spent an inordinate amount of time today doing "important" things on my computer. As an excuse to let pandora play long and loud-- on my big band/jazz/blues station. Note to all unknowing Americans-- Pandora is a blessing for your land alone. No other members of the human race have the access to music that you have.

A note about this kind of music. It makes me want to be like this:



A little bit of a fantasy? Perhaps.

I have always wanted to dance-- and maybe my listening to music first recorded in the first half od this century is not the best way to cure this silly romantic notion that I have. Waltzing across an empty stage in a gorgeous blue dress to some of the greatest music ever produced by humanity. Silly.

What can I say? It's gotten under my skin. :)

How Germany Completely and Totally Changed My Life

I know most of the time the titles to my posts have almost nothing to do with what I write.

But I felt like germany is an experience that deserves a real title, maybe once. Or twice.

Okay.

The thing is, is that the way in which Germany changed my life is so indescribable, so unable to be placed into words-- especially English words, that I think I will always be perpetually dissatisfied with this post-- real title or not.

Okay.

When I think of Germany, I think of strength. Not really because all germans are strong, but because I feel like you must learn to be strong if you are to succeed in a place that is completely new and very different. I can see in my mind's eye this picture:

Julie is walking home from Kaisers to her small apartment in charlottenburg. The sun is setting in the park across from her house, and the clouds are moving in. It'll probably be raining tomorrow. She has in her grocery bag, milchbrot, nutella, vanilla jogurt and rasberries. She's thinking about how she can still feel the cobblestones through her shoes, and how tired she is from the long day of walking and german and museums that happened. That is somehow-- life changing.

Or try this one. Julie is hiking by herself down a path by Neu Schwanstein. She sees a waterfall, and laughs out loud to herself-- simply because she is so happy to be surrounded by the creations of God. She wants to get closer so she climbs down the rocks until she is at the base of the falls and can walk in the water that is pouring down the face of a member of the Alps. The sky is blue and the trees and hills roll together to create a fairy-tale view that any artist would covet. This is also-- life changing.

Or getting on a dirty train alone, trying to decide how best to say-- sorry, is it okay if I put my bag there? Or going into a book store and trying to think about how to say-- I don't need a bag, I'll just put that in my back pack. Or walking alone down Friedrichstrasse and tapping a German on the shoulder and asking them which way to Gendarmenmarkt. Again... a mosaic of small things that changed my life.

Or maybe the people that I grew to love. Or the food I got to eat. Or the rare germans that spoke the language so beautifully and clearly that it almost brought tears to my eyes. Or that moment, when you find Rittersport for sixty cents instead of eighty five. Or find a great doener at hauptbahnhof. Or discover the fastest way to get from Alexander Platz to Zoologischer Garten. Or sitting in church on sunday and hearing the gospel truth-- still true in german. Or arguing about where to get Eis-- and whether it would be worth a euro to spend on one scoop.

This is germany. And somehow, someway-- the muesli, and the train stations, and the sounds that the u-bahn trains make when the doors close, and how dirty you get when you touch something at alex, and how long it takes you to get home at night, and the linden trees and the bayerish farms and... the annoying tourists-- made me stronger. Better.

I hate to say goodbye. Bis, Spaeter, Deutschland. Du gefaellt mir wunderbar. Und ich vergesse dich nicht.

Berlin

This is a poem that I wrote after my experience in Berlin. Its title is, "Berlin."

Lovely, as the stars are invisible
Time jumps by in clusters here.

Ugly, the scaffolded narrow streets pass along
With the rhythm of a city--
Made mostly of memories. Confliction.

Speeding trains, smoke, rushing people
Handrails, stick with many hands,
Gardens, columns, gates marked with victory--
Music on the metro.

Art in quiet in corners.
Linden trees, green trees, shady trees.
Brick, sandstone, stone under your feet.
Steel, shrapnel, graffiti.

Excuse me, speak English? Somehow--
somehow this culture exists.
Somehow it pulses with ambitious life--
and echoes with dark-chocolate death.

Guns, the wall still standing,
Speaking. Still.
Unchanging. Unmoving. German.

But when I come back to you, entshuldigung,
Maybe in ten years or so--
You'll be built of memories again.

Change.
And remember, you change me.

And Suddenly Seymore...

well suddenly, the time that you thought would never go by, has gone by and you are buying your last train ticket.

Today I bought my last train ticket. Tubingen to Frankfurt. One way.

Today was also the last day I went to class. All the cute little asians in my class were crying because we had to leave, and wanted picture after picture after picture. It was adorable.

I won't give my "how germany changed my life" post until after I land and finally buy groceries in English again.

But I write this as I look out over the trees and hills surrounding the small town that I live in, and suddenly wish that suddenly, I didn't have to think about not being to see them again. I am really quite excited to go home, to be back in school, to get my life back in hand-- but I will be sorry when my world no longer includes modal verbs, eis, and arguing over the best place to get a doener.

surreal.

suddenly, I have realized my strong feelings-- just in time to let them go.

Shall We Dance?

Southern Germany is lovely.

Also… all Germans know how to dance?

I have been to church dances all my life, but never once have I ever once believed one could dance the foxtrot to “Dynamite” or “Every Time We Touch”. Granted it is a lose foxtrot, and they kind of combine that with some sort of swing step, but, we, as americans (or Canadians…), felt very out of place there with our swaying and step-snap dance circle. It was awesome.

Even though home was a very late reality last night, I woke up early this morning and watched the sun rise outside my window. It was lovely.

The Other Germany

I have passed through the midst of the large city and now have had the pleasure of running through the true wilderness. Literally.

We left berlin on last month. I wish I could say I was sad to leave it, but, just like Berlin is a city defined by change, I was defined by the changes that happened to me in Berlin. And, that Friday marked a big step forward into a new realization of who I am, and what I want to become. So, it is only fitting that I, Julie Gwilliam, begin the next chapter in a new place.

Germany is a beautiful place. Truly one of the most gorgeous country-sides in the whole of this earth. It is green, and there are rolling fields, thick forests and hills just tall enough to be small mountains that are great to hike.

We decided we would dive into the wilderness like the athletic ambitious that we aren’t, and tackled that mountain, running (well mostly running) the whole way up. The view was worth it. I hadn’t realized until that moment, when I was running there with trees all around me, surrounded by great friends, that I hadn’t really appreciated Germany (or nature) ever in my life.

After the high of reaching a place where all of Germany seemed open to our view, we started the trek back down the trail-- the wrong trail. We got very, very lost. But it was great. We laughed and everyone kept their cool and suddenly the prospect of spending a night out in the wilderness on some German mountain didn’t seem at all that big of a deal. It slowly got dark as we slowly picked out way down the mountain, and slowly made our way back to town (we had ended up over a mile away from the trailhead).

Germany is beautiful. And I didn’t even know.

So, I will end this post with this letter.

Dear Tiergarten,

We are grateful for all you do to add green to Berlin. You truly are an amazing feat of nature in a dirty great metropolis. However, we must regretfully inform you that you are simply not as qualified as some of our other applicants in representing the beauty of your country.

Your post in Berlin is needed, and even though there are many openings elsewhere, we feel as though the promotion of German beauty will be fulfilled much better by some of our other applicants. Thank you.

Keep up the great work.

Sincerely,

The Former Berliners

Chocolate Stores and Bakeries

Something that America (and Canada) kind of miss out on is the highly specialized stores that one finds in Germany. The weird part-- they have been there for years. Never out of business.

Why?

The absense of large corporate powers like wal-mart, sears, superstore, or target.

I have seen stores that sell only model airplanes. One sold lamps made only from hand carved wood and blue blown glass. Or maybe that store that sold clothes-- made only from satin. Satin tuxedo? check. Only clocks. Only watches. Only bread. Only fruit.

Weird right. But wouldn't you just love to walk into a clock store when you went to buy a clock?

"Hey, hun, I'll be home from work later than usual 'cause I need to pop into the clock store real quick-- while I'm at it, are you sure you wouldn't like a new dress made from satin? because it's right next door to the clocks."

yep. Life without walmart.

This Will Never Happen To Me

Famous last words.

Culture shock-- nah. It won't happen. I know what to expect. Of course I'll adapt like a plant growing in a greenhouse.

To all those aspiring to travel and stay in a place different than home for an extended period of time, do not mentally prepare yourself that you will not experience culture shock.

It occurs in three very basic, easy to understand steps.

1. The "oh my gosh I am in a new place everything is so cool" phase. Pretzel baskets? Awesome. Signs written in German? Man that has got to be in a picture. New food? I'll try one of everything. Hey look, a german guy on the street! I bet he's German! COOL!!!

Don't worry, the sickening coolness of phase one does have an end... devastation.

2. The "I'm in a new place and I hate it" phase. Pretzel baskets? Gosh, why can't I find poptarts anywhere? Signs written in german? If everything wasn't written in German, I WOULD know the way, thank you. New food? uh... lets go to McDonalds. Hey look, another german guy on the street... I bet he's drunk.

Don't worry, phase two is temporary. You may entertain thoughts of flying home, hiding in your apartment, and never buying food ever again. This, for me, required many episodes of little house on the prairie and a few books written in the beautiful language known as English. And many emails to close friends telling them that Germany has betrayed me-- for I expected it to be wonderful, and it is just a cruel facade that, when stripped away, leaves nothing but dirty U-bahn stations and statues of naked guys.

3. The "hey wait, where did my hatred for germany go?" phase. You suddenly accept that you can't find poptarts and start buying chocolate filled croissants instead. You start making lists of all the things you can't wait to eat when you are home (tacos). And you start taking pictures, not of pretzel baskets, but of the original paintings by people like rembrant, of you and your friends on a cool bridge beside a pretty river (can you believe it... friends exist in this hateful place!) and of really cool buildings that are older than your homeland's constitution.

And suddenly, the naked guys and the second hand smoke and the german signs and the new food all seem to take a back burner... as you realize for the first time potatoes still cook the same here as they do at home.

Slightly Sobering Trains

Yesterday... or rather, for the pat few yesterdays, I have had a developing train of thought. To describe it will take some self-depriciation, so I hope, if anyone reads my blog, that they might forgive me for it.

As you probably know by now, I'm in Berlin. Germany. It's a land and a city that is constantly contending with its past-- moving from what it was, but trying to find an identity of what it is.

On my way home a few nights ago, I was talking to a friend about our Father in Heaven-- and why we choose to do what he asks of us. Keep the sabbath day holy, not to steal or cheat, to bridle your passions, to love others, keep your language clean, studying scriptures, going to church, prayer. I know the reasons why I do it.

Somehow, the struggling identity of this huge city and those ideas were related to me. Berlin, to be frank, seemed to present before me the true embracing of our century with things that are immoral and godless. Parties and drinking and pornography and homosexuality-- not one person, but scores and scores of them.

Sometimes, as I would walk by a group of people, or as I would sit beside a heavily intoxicated person on the U-bahn, I would silently wonder to myself what they would think of how I live. What Heavenly Father thinks of them. And then this sobering thought-- What Heavenly Father thinks of me, immersed in them.

I have always kept most standards I believe to be issued by Divinity, simply because they were issued by Divinity. People might think that somehow not having answers is blind obedience. It isn't really. I know the Lord well enough to know that he always leads me to a good place. And he always allows me to follow with my eyes open. That was always enough for me-- at least on most things.

But he also, recently, has opened my eyes to the importance of what he asks. Maybe in Utah-- or even in Edmonton, I didn't really understand the extent of the power of the adversary over the children of men. As I walk the streets of this big city, I see now more than ever, the need we have for a God. The need for people to know his love for them, and his beautiful plan of salvation. And even those principles that filter down from that-- things like self-sufficientcy, honesty, simple concern for the well-being of others. I would first be filled with sorrow with what I see, and then I would be filled with more resolve to change.

Because this is what I thought of next.

Some person, like Enoch, or even our Savior-- coming to our church, to our homes, and to our schools, institutes, seminaries, and what have you-- and feeling the same way that I feel when I walk the streets of Berlin. Enoch maybe opening his eyes and seeing how much more we need to understand, to know, to feel. To become ever more profricient in personal scripture study, in prayer, in modesty, in faith. To master emotions, contention, and talents.

And then I realize that I am no better than Berlin. Struggling with my past and creating for myself some identity for the future. If I work with the Lord, well, then, I know that his identity will hopefully become mine. May I never be content until I know that inside myself, there is a clean swept street in the Kingdom of God.

Five Senses

Okay... for those all curious about how Berlin attends to the senses, allow me to educate you.

Sight: Random old buildings right beside apartment buildings built in the seventies with lots of trees. The sidewalks are all made out of cobblestones. Many colors... and no vinyl siding. Sorry America, you get to keep that. And ever kind of graffiti you could imagine. Everywhere. No building is safe.

Hearing: A loud "deea deea deea" as the subway doors close, and a tick toc noise that is made from the walk signals (it sounds like someone making a knocking sound with their tongue). Oh, and the "brrring-ding" of the bike-riders as they basically tell you to get out of their way or risk losing your life. Add a few rumbles to that... deep rumbles. And you have the ambiance.

Taste: it depends where you are, but if you stand by the Spree river, the air tastes like fishy, dirty water. The bitter taste of second hand smoke combined with the petrol of the subway.

Smell: Cigarette and cigar smoke masks all other smells. Smoking apparently doesn't kill in Germany, because everyone and their dog (and the monkeys at the zoo) smokes.

Touch: With you hands, it is better not to touch things-- but if you do, it is either grimy with dirt, or sticky with people-use. With your feet, you can feel the cobblestones through your shoes. However, it is a good idea to hold the rails on the subway, because most people need to remain standing. It is also a good idea to wash your hands after remaining standing.

Red Roses Too

I was just thinking about the lyrics to that song... what a wonderful world... and I think it captures the feeling I had today while I was going to church, and sitting in church.

church is germany is the same as church anywhere-- people that I love... same gospel... same faith. But different language. However, as I was kind of sort of paying attention during on of the meetings, I saw this painting of Christ on the wall.

this past week has been one of the most challenging weeks of my life, and when I looked at it, I kind of filled up with this feeling of deep sorrow, and thought, "Do you love me?"

And more thoughts and questions came to me, and finally, for the first time this whole week, did I feel the comfort and the peace that comes from sincere prayer.

Trees of green... red roses too... He makes them bloom for me and you.

Berlin Berlin

How do I describe it?

Just think of a place that you have been that is urban... london, new york, downtown somewhere... change the language to german and that is pretty much what you've got-- except you throw in some old gothic churches and cobblestone streets and tons of trees and rivers and small lake. Berlin in a nutshell.

They have fantastic cheese here, along with fantastic ice-cream, and fantastic bakery items-- bread, pastries... you name it.

I also hear the beer is excellent.

Unlike America, street food is very very cheap... around 2-3 Euro if you are not too picky (about 3 or 4 dollars). Along with being very cheap, it is also very sketch. Lots of roadside stands and greasy alley way places. Honestly, the ones that look the most sketch are usually the best-- because they are less commericial. The commercial-- safer. There is really no GERMAN food for sale anywhere. There is italian, and hungarian, some asian food, and (I don't think I'll ever try it) mexican? Have I had schnitzel? Nope. I have had some fantastic pizza, sandwiches, doeners, and even some killer pasta... but not a potatoe nor schnitzel in sight.

But... they do have "hot dog" vendors... the hot dogs are actual wurst... and they are about a foot long. They put the foot long, very skinny sausage in a bun that is about... four inches long. Yep. And only dijon mustard on top. Cheap and good. But I think I like J-dawgs better. ::sheepish smile::

Welp... that's the food. Stay tuned for more on Berlin. Hoepfully I can get my camera to work one of these days.

Thoughts While Flying

Thoughts from the flight over the atlantic ocean:

“Oh cool… there’s the statue of liberty…”

“The sun is taking a really long time to set.”

“All that is under me is water… weird.”

“I must have been completely mental to do this.”

“My leg is really cramped.”

“I’m happy there is no one in the seat beside me.”

“The stars are really easy to see out here.”

“I wonder what time it is.”

“I miss Jake.”

“The sun is taking a really long time to rise.”

“Oh look, land! I can see a castle from here.”

“Water again.”

“I am crazy. Why did I get on this plane?”

“Landing? Finally.”

“Landing? Wait, I’m not ready yet.”

and then after landing:

"Oh my gosh! That guy was speaking german!"

A Pre-Germany Assesment

Yes... this is the last post I shall post before I go to Germany. In less than forty-eight hours I will get on that plane. That is a very scary thought. Very scary indeed. But exciting.

In this pre-germany assesment, I would just like to make a list of all the reasons why Germany will be bad... followed by why it will be good. I feel like it might ease my feelings of appehension and anxious-excited anxiety.

Bad reasons:

I will be away from my fiance, Jake, for two months. Because I know he reads my blog faithfully... I want to take this opportunity to tell him that I love him very much and that he will be on my mind every day while I am gone.

I can't really speak very good german. Bring on the language barrier... this could be fun.

I don't really know anything about where anything is or how anything works. Not really anyway.

Expensive.

... and for reasons unknown... I am simply... afraid. It's new. It's different. And never have I ever done anything like this before.

Good reasons:

I will learn so much. I know this.

Germany has really good food.

It will be so cool to see and learn about a different culture.

I get nine credit hours of college just for being there.

... and for reasons unknown... I am simply... excited. It's new. It's different. And never have I ever done anything like this before.

Sleep. No explanation needed.

The new art consists of learning to fill your days... when you have... no job, no school, no agenda, and no chores or projects or housework or... anything.

Therefore, in case someone is ever in this dreadful situation I am in, I am going to make it easy for them but compiling a list of things one can do when they have nothing to do. Forgive me if they are redundant, self-explanitory, or unhelpful.

1. Facebook. I have looked at all of the pictures of my closest friends, followed by my good friends, followed by my aquaintances, followed by those of the the people who are my friends... on facebook only.

2. Movies. Not only to they pass large amounts of time, but they also allow for ample cuddle time with the fiance. What but the non-reality of the movie world can better fill (or should I say kill) the endless hours of daylight.

3. Sleep. No explanation needed.

4. Read books. Might I recommend Harry Potter-- which are my go to books. It seems fitting that I should confess I may or may not have read each book a minimum of thirty times. And I still like them. True test of time and faith right there.

5. Time killing hobbies like crocheting, quilting, repainting your toenails over and over, writing pointless letters, learning to become a jedi (Warning: may require great patience), or meditation.

6. Make daily tasks take a long time. Spend an hour doing your hair, and another doing your make-up. Shower twice as long. Eat more slowly... or just eat more. Walk instead of driving... if you have anywhere to go. Walking takes a lot longer.

Anyway. If you are ever in need of things to fill your thingless days... I am here for you.

A sad realization

the sad realization is that, yes, for almost two full weeks, I forgot I had a blog. My apologies.


okay.

moving on.

I have found that I am in love. In love. IN IN LOVE.

With what you ask?

With this:
Yes. The vitamix.

It can makes soup. It can grind your grains so fine that you can make flour... in your blender. It juices fruit because it acheives such high speeds... and the motor is as power as a higher-end chain saw.

The fruit around it looks nice too....

I am only left wondering, as every girl does, will vitamix and I ever be together?

Red Fish Blue Fish

Fish need water. I need water.

Fish need food. I need food.

Fish come in many different colors. I also can change color.

Fish die if the water gets too cold. I also die if the water gets to cold.

Fish don't like dirt. I don't like dirt.

Fish have green eyes. I have green eyes.

Fish are super gullible. I'm super gullible.

Fish get away when scared. I get away when scared.

Fish don't like fishing. I don't like fishing.

Fish think sharks are scary. I think sharks are scary.

Therefore... I am a lot like a fish.

(note to all. I wrote this when thirsty)

Recycle the Empties?

Lately I have been feeling... a bit empty.

Empty life that is full of work. Empty cupboards-- empty stomach. Empty house. Empty. Empty. Empty.

All I have left to say is... some empty things are better to throw out and not really ever return to.

And not recylcing these ones may actually prove better for the environment.

And they said she was classy...

so... I have been pouring my blood, sweat and (I am ashamed to admit it) tears into a wonderful land. This land is known as the world of Classic Landscapes. Yes it is a company. Yes... we work long hours and operate skid steers and shovel rocks and dirt and slap mosquitoes all day.

But, as one of my coworkers has so eloquently stated, You have to be classy in order to work at Classic.

So I have compiled a list.

This is the list of steps that must be taken to be Classic-ly classy:

1. You must look at least somewhat presentable dirty. Dirt gets everywhere. And it usually doesn't come out. So... Get used to the dirt, because it'll be on you for a while.

2. You must tan. But, this tan cannot be without glaring obvious tan lines in the following areas: a sock line (white feet), a neck line (brown neck, white back), a glove line (white hands) and last, but certainly not least: The Classic Farmer's Tan.

3. You must have the ability to eat relatively the same thing every day. And, the classiest of these meals: veggie alphabet soup-- straight from the can. Pack two cans and your can opener, and its almost like a granola bar. Just eat and toss the wrapper in the dumpster (we're way too classy for garbage cans).

4. You must be redundant, disorganized, and inefficient. In that order. Everything must be said at least three times. And don't bother asking very intelligent questions... no one will answer you. But, ask a stupid one, and somebody will be right there to tell you why that was stupid question.

5. You must master the art of speaking over walkie talkies. Of course, talking when someone else is is the most classy option. Nothing says class like a bunch of garbled static when two people try to speak at the same time on a group radio channel. Always say things twice, just to make sure you were heard-- and don't forget, classy people always shout things into the radio.

6. You must always look less smart than you are. Don't bother to take the time to tell customers and other co-workers that you are really a pre-med student or going into law. That really takes classy points off of your tally. This isn't brain surgery-- it's landscaping. Everyone knows more than you-- let them at least think that you have class.

Six fail safe ways to a classy life. You know, I love my job.