Erasmusblogs

…my only friend, the end! My flatmate Cinzia is going back to Italy tomorrow, after six great months living together. It makes me sad, I don´t have such a good relationship with my other flatmate (though she´s nice as well) and feel this is the end of an Era.

Right now I´m on holidays: it´s unbelievable, but in Germany (or at least at the HU Berlin) there are two whole "holiday" months: they hate to call it "holiday", it is said to be "Vorlesungsfreizeit" (period without classes), but anyway that means holiday. Lots of students fly back home in this period, so the time here runs quite slowly now, and moreover there´s nothing to do for me. Some friends of mine are attending German intensive courses, others are going on holiday, to sum up, I´m almost the only one doing absolutely nothing here, and however I´m not complaining anymore. Today, with the begginning of the spring, the birds have even started singing and the frozen puddles are slowly thawing out. I still find it difficult to believe, but The Great German Winter seems to back down!!

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         I have started reading a play by Albert Camus, Le Malentendu. The story is set in a small Czech city. In the preface of the book I read as I wrinkle my brow that the play was meant to be called Budejovice — the name of a city in South Bohemia, not far from Prague.

         Le Malentendue is about a murder. And it is because of the bad weather. A woman, Martha, and her mother, who run a small hotel, are so sick of the harsh endless Czech winters that they decide to kill some customers to steal their money, till they are wealthy enough to start a new life in a Mediterranean country. Let´s see what our dear Martha has to say about Czech weather: "Ce que nous appelons le primtemps ici, c´est une rose et deux bourgeons qui viennent de pousser dans le jardin du cloître." Hard, isn´t it? But let´s continue listening to her: "Je n´ai plus de patience en réserve pour cette Europe où l´automne a le visage du primtemps et le primtemps l´odeur de misère." Enough, Marta. Thanks you very much.

         12th March, Prague. Streets full of ice and snow after a two-day ice storm. I´m on my sofa reading the third act of Camus´ play and half listening to the telly. Euronews is on, and here comes the weather forecast. The camera goes across the map of Europe, while a catchy jingle melody sounds: "Jingjing jingjing jing jing jiiiiiiing jing." Madrid 20º. Jingjing… Paris 12º. Jingjing jing… Berlin 5º. Jiiiiiiiiiiing… Prague 0º. What the fuck!! Warsaw 4º. Bratislava 4º. I can´t believe it. We´re in the coldest place in the world. "Hey, Ben. Have you seen that? 0º. Worse than ever."
         "Yeah…" he says, and something else I can´t understand.
         Jingjing jingjing jing jing jiiiiiiiiing…
         I wanna kill somebody.

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         It is marvellous to be definitely settled, to have eventually found a nice, comfortable place. It is an indescribable moment when you take the keys of your newly found apartment, or when you put your name on the letter box, or specially when you realize that you have a washing machine for yourself. Those living in a hall of residence know perfectly well what I’m talking about.

         In my former hall of residence you could consider yourself lucky if you got the laundry room keys. Very lucky if when returning the keys you were not overcharged. And touched by the hand of God if the washing machine worked properly; I mean washing, instead of just wetting you clothes. Damn, how many times I had to take my soaked clothes and wash them by hand in the bathroom. And later to hang them in the shower and ask my mate not to bath today. I thought there was a drying room, but when I asked for the key at reception, they informed me that such room didn’t exist. "Oh yes," I insisted, "I’ve seen it. It’s in building number…" No way. The woman shaked her head. "No drying room." Ok, ok. I come back upstairs and see the room. A big poster on the door reads, Drying Room. I fold my arms, stare fixedly at the door and mutter, "You, liar."

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         In November I finally got a flat. One day I find an ad on the net, "Space Age Gargantuan flat to share in Dejvicka." "Kitsch, huge rooms." Cool. "Well-situated." Cool. "Open-House Venue on Thursday. Everyone invited." Cool. I’m there on time. Hey, this is the hugest flat I’ve ever seen in Prague. Some people are seeing the flat, and there is still a long list to come, as usual. The room offered is comparatively small; the desk table is amazing, though. From the window you can see the top of the Sparta Football Stadium. The room is an attic, by the way. I like it. Two guys live here (only two in this palace, I can’t believe it), Ben and Daniel, English and Northamerican. We chat for a while, have a beer and that’s all by now.

         Two days later they invite me to have a coffee and a talk. Nice evening. Then they invite me again to go with them next day, Sunday evening, to watch La Traviata at National Theatre. This Sunday is that tricky autumn day when the time officially changes; clocks are put back one hour. I forget it, and I arrive one hour earlier to the theatre. There is a yard beside the ticket office where the kids skate. So I wait there chain-smoking and watching the skaters up and down. I enjoy when they fall, I must admit. Well, Ben and Daniel arrive and I tell them about my mistake, which I soon regret -I wouldn’t give a place in my flat to somebody who can’t tell what time it is. Let’s go to the opera. We are not particularly fond of BelCanto, but the show is amusing, it only costs 1 euro and you are comfortably sitting in a warm, charming place.

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I hate this month. I´ve already finished all my exams and have only one translation more to be delivered next week, so I´ll be sitting here for the next two months, hand in hand, while everybody else flights back to Spain or travels all around Europe and Germany. For me, it´s just not possible. I don´t have the money to do it. Right now I just feel like going back home, though I know this is just a consequence of the hatred that fills me every year over the shorter but however neverending February. I burnt my hand once again, I lost my passport, my grandmother has died this weekend. Too bad I didn´t slide walking over the icy streets and racked my brain. I hope my next entry won´t be so downhearted…

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         To find a flat in Prague is not easy. To find a huge confortable inexpensive flat is almost impossible. I tried it hard in October and first week of November. I have succeeded, but only after many frustrated attempts. For instance…
         I get a meeting with a Polish girl to see her flat. She and a Czech girl are looking for a third mate. "Ripska, 25" she messages me. That evening I go to Jiriho z Podebrad area, and look for the street. It’s not as easy to find as I thought. I take out my map, but it’s so windy today, that the paper flutters like a flag and I can hardly keep it in my hands. I ask people, or rather I block their way and show them my cell phone with the address. Some ignore me, some say "No idea." Finally a shabby youngster points me in the right direction.

         The meeting is at 20.00; I’m there half an hour earlier, so I decide to go to a cafe near to kill time. Two girls are looking at the prices on the door. They speak English. Good news, I think. I say some silly remark and they cry out, "Oh you speak English, thanks God." We come in, sit together and drink something. They are students from the States in their year off. "From Minnesota. Never go there. Europe’s so cute." They are cool and pretty. Really pretty. "We’ve been travelling round Europe. Been to France, Italy and Switzerland." They need a cheap hostel for tomorrow night. "Yeah, I have some experience in not finding any place to be." At 20.00 I wave goodbye, wish them good luck and phone my Polish girl.

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         "I make movies," Buñuel once said, "cause we are not in the best of the possible worlds." So I look for a flat cause I’m not in the best of the possible dorms. But first I need a lamp, because my room is completely dark. Then I need a flat because this dark dorm really sucks. Somebody tells me, "Go to Ikea. Cheap and cool lamps." Somebody else says, "Go to Happy House Rentals. Good agency." So today I have a huge breakfast and say, "Let’s do it."

         First I go to the agency. It’s so hidden that it seems unreal. You have to get in a photo store, find a little door in a corner, step into a large hall, ask the secretary, go upstairs top floor, cross a dark narrow hall and knock on the last door. You feel as if the Mafia capo were waiting there to close a deal. Instead, a kind guy opens. He says, "I’m sorry but we can’t arrange rooms, only appartments." He gives me an email address and the name of a cafe where expats put their ads in. Very kind, thanks. "Take tram 9 down here to Ujezd," he finally says. So I go downstairs and hop in the tram.

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Here I am once again, I don´t seem to get enough! This goes for finnish metal music fans in Berlin and surroundings:

CHARON live in Berlin!
When? 24.02.2006, from 20 h
Where? Alte Feuerwache Club, Berlin Schöneweide (S8, S9, M17)
How much? 6 € in advance, 8 € straight on entrance

If you don´t know Charon, don´t let the label "finnish metal" confuse you, anyway…

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Berlin glows under the charming winter sun. I arrived on Friday and we´ve had four days of sunny and however cold weather. Snow piles see you home as silent, shining and serious friends. Much have I written about Berlin´s autumn beauty, but even more could be said of its winter, especially in these sunny days and despite the ice rink the city has become, which makes difficult the walking out of the centre. Tomorrow the charm will be over: the weather forecast says it´ll snow once again.

I had great pains in my spine, but they´re almost gone now. I wonder whether it doesn´t bother me anymore because it is frozen or something lilke that. I think I´ll have to buy a balaclava to protect my facial skin, which is already a little burnt because of the icy wind.

Today we´re supposed to visit the Reichsrat, there is a guided tour, but I don´t really feel like it; I think I´d better enjoy this rare pleasure of feeling as if I were going to fall on my face every now and then, er, I mean, I think I´ll go for a walk and try to come home safe and sound, being careful not to slip.

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         Here´s a simple example of what´s wrong here. The dark side of the Erasmus experience, if you want. Ana and me need an English grammar book for our proficiency course. We have searched for it in some bookstores but failed. So we go to the Rectorate where the Central Library is supposed to be. "No Central Library," says a German-like guy at reception. He gives me a phone and a number. "I´ve lived through this before," I think while I dial information. A metallic distant voice (like from Mars or something) informs me that we must go to the library in the second Faculty of Ed. in Rett. Street. OK.

         At reception in Rett. they don´t speak English. They offer me another phone. No thanks. Enough calls for today. I ask a bookworm-looking guy. He points politely at a dark narrow hall and says, "But you need to fill some papers before taking books." Ok, no problem. Long queue; we stand in as cheerfully as possible though. Ana types the name of the book in a computer. Bad luck. There is only an old edition. Hmm… Well, let´s try. We ask for it, and they send us to the Reading Room. In the Reading Room a tall pale guy helps us to find it. Finally he says the book is not here. We must go to the first Faculty of Ed. and take it from the library´s English department. "Tomorrow we´ll try, ok Manu?" Ok.

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