When I was a young girl..la la la la la la la.
Thursday, October 20, 2005Enough people answered yes from the last post, so this is what I'm going to do....
I was going to randomly go through past journal entries, but for the time being I am going to stick with 1988. Europe. Exchange student. But first, here's a bit of context:
When I was sixteen a German exchange student came to live with my family. It was the end of a long summer (1987) and we went to the airport with the ____family, who was also getting one. Two boys. Exchanging with two girls. Us. Sixteen year old girls getting two German guys to live in their homes for six months. We were giddy. I was nervous, moreso than my friend ____. She was more comfortable around people, more outgoing. I was more introverted and shy. People mistook me as being aloof. Boys made me shiver. I worshipped from afar. Having this guy come was huge for me. I was excited and crazy scared all at the same time.
More context eventually, but for now:
Fastforward.
Berlin, Monday, March 21, 1988
We were supposed to leave the house at 12:00, but we didn't leave until about 3:30 because Rolf [my exchange student partner a.k.a. German guy] decided at the last minute to bake donuts and he hadn't packed yet. He's such a goof. Then when we finally left, Rolf forgot to pack a vacuum cleaner to bring for his sister, so we had to turn around, get it, and re-drive the half hour. The drive was quite boring and there wasn't much to see. I really enjoyed the West/East German border, though. We had to go through about 4 check-points until we could finally get into the East. And you should see the barbed wire and solemn soldats with their rifles and tanks and so on. We had to go through the same thing when we got to Berlin. Spot lights flood lights the works. We got to Annette's old and a bit dingey, but I'll survive apartment, and ate (gross gross gross food - something called quatze or qwatze for dessert - Yuck!). Then we all went to bed - talk about scrunched up! 4 in one room!
More tomorrow...
3:08 AM
Uh, who sends their sixteen year old to a place with tanks and guns? I thought my parents were crazy to let me go to Cancun when I was eighteen. And no one gets shot there. Unless you count tequila shooters...which can actually harm you just as much as getting shot. If you do them right.
Cheers.