Back to School

Although it has a lot of green space, the 1960's concrete
architecture has earned the university the affectionate
 nickname of"DDR Bunker"-- DDR being the abbreviation
 for the old East German State.

It's been four years since I've been in school, and I was surprised at how nervous I was upon my return. I though everyone else would be much sharper having just completed their BA's, better read-up on the ever-evolving research tools available to us today--a younger, sleeker version of academic than myself. While this may be true, I forgot that the dreaded "senioritis" experienced by students in their fourth year of college took quit a while to get over. Although admittedly rusty, and in a new discipline, what I lack, I make up for with an academic esprit de corps. My first semester's classes were pretty much decided for me already, a class on the fundamentals of the American Studies Department, a class called "Readings in European-American Studies" which is my favorite so far, a class on academic writing, and a lecture I have taken of my own accord on the foreign policy of the USA. Due to the interdisciplinary nature of my degree, I will have a great amount of freedom in the future in choosing my classes and building my degree.

Before classes began, I had an orientation called Starklar which is designed for international students. Like all orientation programs, it was useful but overall tedious, bogged down by a lack of public-speaking ability by most of the people conducting to informational meetings, leading to chatter among the students, leading to questions from those missing information because of the chatter. Arrgghh. Like a good boy, I endured, knowing that a trip to Munich to visit what remains of my old housemates awaited, along with a few Maß of beer at the Oktoberfest.

During the second week of Starklar after I had my counselling session and registration, I headed down to Munich on a Wednesday hoping to meet up with a few people then head to die Wiesn (the local term for Oktoberfest referring to the field where it is held) to catch the last couple of hours in the tents before they closed. However, delays did not bring me there until rather late, and it was impossible to get into any of the tents, so we settled for a seat in one of the beer gardens, which is nice in the day, but on a windy Autumn evening, is less than pleasant. We quickly quaffed a Maß then walked around visiting the various booths, shooting air-rifles, driving bumper cars, riding a roller coaster (three activities that really shouldn't be featured at the world's largest beer-drinking event), and eating some Kaiserschmarm, which is kind of like thick eggy pancakes sliced up and served with sugar, cinnamon, and applesauce.

I had only planned for an overnight trip because I had no shortage of errands to run back in Regensburg. I had bought myself a refrigerator earlier that week but had a long way to go until my living quarters no longer resembled a medium-security prison cell. Providence allowed me a room in the dormitories at the very last minute after an unsuccessful apartment hunt, although it was wanting many things. I knew I would be better off getting as much done as possible before classes started. However, the day I was planning to return was a national holiday (Unification Day) and I knew all the stores would be closed. So I thought to myself, "I will go by die Wiesn for a couple of beers, then head home to do laundry." Famous last words.

After waiting patiently for an hour and outlasting pushy youngsters and foreigners trying to harangue the security guards into letting them into the tents (rookies) I was admitted into my favorite tent, the Augustiner. I walked around for a while before I managed to get some sympathy for my cane by some cute, dirndl-clad girls, at a table in the middle of the room. We quickly made friends, and one Maß lead to another. The music played and the crowd grew more gemütlich and soon we took to dancing. A couple of old ladies'-men from the neighboring table who obviously had the kind of dance training people my age just don't get showed us a thing or two, and soon we were all up on the benches singing and clapping. More beer followed.

I informed my table-mates that I needed to get going if was going to catch the next train to Regensburg, which was met with protestations, one of the guys saying it was insane of me to go home tonight, insisting I come back with the group to his apartment to sleep it off and head back the next day, going to far as to offer me a blow up mattress. So that's what I did. When I woke up in the early morning in a taco-shaped air mattress I neatly folded up my bedding, deflated and stowed the mattress, and still clad in my lederhosen, slipped into the Friday morning Munich commute, grabbing a hair-of-the-dog beer and an early train back to Munich.

The Dormitory Complex where I live

After arriving, I got some laundry going, took a shower, and went grocery shopping. Although my room still has a ways to go, at least I now have some comfy flannel sheets, a down comforter, rugs for the floors, and the cooking utensils I need. These include a lovely set of forged steel, Fridour-hardened knives I ordered directly from the Henckel-Zwillinger knife factory that will serve me for decades to come. I've only cut myself with them once so far, but it was a clean cut and healed very quickly.

Being back in school has also meant getting back into the dating scene. I haven't had a serious relationship since I was last in school, and I must say that being single nowadays is horrible. The reality is that all of the social media that is supposed to protect us actually just serves as a barrier that enables everyone's social anxieties. I think the comedian Aziz Ansari, an American of Indian descent born and raised in South Carolina puts it best.

http://www.refinery29.com/2013/11/57048/aziz-ansari-texting-ruins-dating