four weeks have passed-- both rapidly and reluctantly-- and i do not cry as often anymore. at times i feel desperate, usually at night, but i've taught myself to just close my eyes, hug my pillow, and wait for the morning, when everything inevitably seems more manageable. when i feel like i can face myself.
today i went to my new german school to take a placement test. the school is precisely one block from my flat, though i've never noticed it before. it is right next to the pizza place i frequent, where the same israeli man always waits on me with his wide chocolate eyes that look more of gaping mouths that want to eat me. he likes me. i like him.
our test consisted of a multiple choice and written portion, which affirmed my feeble knowledge of german, and a group conversation, which made me happy. there was a break in between, and while my instinct is always to sit on some ledge close to the ground and look awkwardly at my feet, i decided today was an opportunity to meet people. so i joined an equally awkward looking group and we talked. auf deutsch. in germany, at least at language schools apparently, being from san francisco is one of the most fascinating things you could do, which i am endlessly grateful for. i managed to facilitate a quite functional conversation between myself, a cheery girl from sweden, whom i immediately wanted to hug, two non-descript girls from france, a frail spanish woman, and a man from france, who looked like dean cain and instantly stole my heart. we talked about the things people talk about when they don't know one another or the language they're speaking. trivial things that dissipate as soon as the words are said, but somehow still always feel like a wonderful success to me. to speak. to be heard. to listen. to exchange.
the longer i am here, the more delicate the language sounds. german is so often characterized as being harsh and abrasive, but, to my ears, especially the women sound lilting and warm in their speech. it does not sound rushed like english often does, but rather as though the words are being cradled, and then released, deliberate and enunciated. i like german. it feels satisfying in my mouth. i like the ch and the sh sounds it so often makes. i remember in sunday school, when we would read together at the beginning, i would wait for those sounds. i liked the way they felt-- full and round. complete. i would count them in each tiny passage we read, consider them personal triumphs. german is brimming with them. it is a robust language. it is satiating, like biting into a sausage-- that snap as you bite through the taut outer layer of skin. it makes my mouth happy.
one of the questions everyone asks is why germany? why german? and though it may seem feeble and though there may be other reasons, such as i like german literature, i sometimes simply say, because i like german. because i hear it and it resonates in me.
i finished my test and took a walk, picked up some mail at the goethe-institute, had a croissant and read in the rain. then i had my eyebrows waxed, which is seemingly meaningless, but which made me feel more like a person again. and i realized i tend to the way i look for myself and that is enough. it does not have to be for anyone else. this event is mostly important because it introduced me to my new favorite german word, which is augenwimpern, which means eyelashes. the woman waxing my eyebrows had to know if my eyelashes were real and if i curled them and what kind of mascara i used. i was amused, but mostly pleased with the discovery of this word. augen, meaning eyes. and wimper, meaning lash. there is no secret special meaning behind it. wimper simply means lash, but i liked imagining the eyes whimpering. that these dark fans, which protect my eyes, are maybe also protecting me from tears. they are the tears themselves. the whimper of my eyes, of which mine are exceedingly long and pronounced. i need extra help.
now that i am voicing this, i realize how little sense it makes, but maybe the point is, i like german so much because it makes me see my own language. makes me look at it differently, even if for completely inane reasons. i am in germany and i am looking at the world differently.
i feel good today. i feel content in my solitude. my littleness. i have never in my life spent so much time alone, and, while i may not love it, i am becoming comfortable in it. i am looking forward to the days to come. and am also relishing now. now with its rainy quiet, its hope.
