Alsace, France

The battle for the Colmar Pocket in Alsace, France, lasted from January 20, 1945, to February 9 of the same year, ending with an allied victory and the liberation of France from German control. The main US force was the 3rd Infantry Division, the same division which held up the Germans outside Paris in WWI (Rock of the Marne) and which my grandfather fought with in Korea. Between May 5 and May 9 I toured this area with a small group of current and retired 3ID soldiers, as well as two decorated veterans who fought there.
I was assigned group photographer, so I have a full record of the trip.
Picture 1 (below): Lt. Col. Timothy Stoy is an Army historian. Here he gives the details of key battles atop Hill #251, site of some of the bloodiest fighting in the region.
Picture 2: We visited an old French monastery in the town of Mullsheim, before being entertained to dinner by the mayor. Captain Monika Stoy (Tim's wife) had me pose in the monestary's museum.
Picture 3: Many of the small towns we visited within the "Colmar Pocket" our two honorable veterans had liberated 65 years earlier. The town mayor of each these held a ceremony commemorating the town's liberation.
Picture 4: The veterans were the highlight of the schoolyear for these kids. The gentlemen told their stories, the kids sang "Alouette" and "Le Chant des Partisans".
Picture 5: One of many plaques we unvieled at various memorial sites.
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Gretchen

I bought Gretchen on February 27 at a used bike sale in town for the unbelievable price of 35 €. I knew she was mine as soon as I saw her: a sleek silver frame, handy book rack, front and rear fenders, nifty ring-a-ding-dinger, pedal-powered lights, long distance capabilities. Woot woot! I was excited. I tried her out and took her home. Over the next days and weeks I tricked her out with a lock and a new set of tubes and tires, and even bought myself a fancy helmet.
I called my bike Gretchen, because, well…she was a girl’s bike. I didn’t hold it against her, though. She was trusty through snow, rain, weeds, cobblestone, mud—what a gal! If I were Donny Boy Quixote, she would have been my sturdy Rozinante. That is, if I'm not in fact Don Quixote already... Most of my daily riding was in between my pad and my school, or getting groceries and the like. It was mainly weekends that I took off through the hills.
And that I did "mit ganz Vergnügen", you might say-- total pleasure. In an easy fifteen minutes I could park among shady beeches down a quiet country lane, with maybe a big rock to perch on and read; within twenty minutes I could be up in a Black Forest tree house overlooking a springing valley or tearing down a mountain path; and within half an hour I could be rolling through a vast wilderness of Badische vineyards. Of course, if I ever preferred I could study around town, maybe in a park amongst a bunch of laughing chidlers, or leaning against a fountain in a secluded part of town, even the cemetery if I were feeling extra creepy. Wherever I chose to roam/hide, Gretchen made it happen.
My longest one-day ride this semester was about forty miles, on which Gretch was a champ. I was joining some Army folks in the French city of Colmar to commemorate the 65th anniversary of the liberation of France, which I’ll talk about more later, and I had to get there by bike. It turned out to be the perfect adventure. I’ll probably talk about all that later, too. For now I’ll mention the incredibly friendly and respectful French people, the fun of relying entirely on my German (as I don't speak French and they don't speak English), a few confusing country roadsigns and rain puddles the size of Bayern.
Ah, another great trip was an afternoon trek to the small border city of Breisach, right on the Rhine River. Breisach is about 20 miles from Freiburg, so it was a good day’s trip there and back. Really all I did there was hike around a bit and eat a bowl of soup, but that kind of thing is my ideal way to spend a Saturday. I remember, though probably romantically so, how as I was leaving the town heading back all the church bells started to ring their 6:00 carols. These bells, the hazy mountains in the distance, the vineyards and the orange sunset behind me are now embedded into how I remember Germany. Neat, neat stuff.
I admit I've become rather infected with this bicycle wanderlust. A Swede I met in Freiburg was telling me once all about his bicycle journeys across Europe. He’s ridden across Switzerland, Austria, Germany, France, Spain, Siberia…on and on and on (not really Siberia). His favorite thing to talk about was a certain pilgrimage he’s biked, actually biked now twice, the “Camino de Santiago”. The trek extends over 2,000 kilometers across France and Spain and ends in the Spanish city Santiago de Compostela.
I think I could really get into that, or at least that sort of thing. Not necessarily in Europe, but anywhere. I've heard about several good routes in the Midwest I wouldn't mind starting out on. Perhaps next summer...

Pick-up Stuffs.

This is a long list of things I learned this semester. Actually, it’s a long list of lists. The lists and sub-lists, I admit, are rather exhaustive, but I like compiling things as exhaustively as possible. I mean, comprehensively. Another thing is how top-scratchy lists can get. As in, they don't scratch anything but the top. But anyway, here goes.
• From my classes (art history, German history, economics, politics/communication, German), which were taught by professors from the University of Freiburg, I learned new insights into just about everything about my nearly dear host country. My history and art history courses were easily my favorites. The art history professor taught, for example, not only how to describe and interpret art in general, but more importantly, how to understand German art through a very German historical and cultural lens. That’s the kind of thing you appreciate studying abroad.
• Through my suitemates--two other Americans and four Germans--over many games of chess, many late night political, religious, sports and cultural conversations, plays, picnics, meals and movies came both the knowledge of new perspectives and the challenge of working my own insight, as well as perspective-independent Truth into topics and situations that before this semester I was completely foreign to.
• Through many lunches with my language tandem partner Lydia I learned about nuances in language and the drive of the German college student. I tell you what, this girl studied like a madman.
• Through Calvary Chapel, over great sermons, holiday hospitality, game nights and discussions at Bible study I learned valuable faith lessons that I plan on returning to often in the coming months.
• I learned through my family and friends both here and at home over long afternoon conversations, meals, messages, online risk, spontaneous adventures around the city, weekend trips, letters, long evenings over tea and wine, and many hours on Skype that friendship and family are truly jewels of life which I ought never to neglect. (Though I must apologize to all those with whom I know I didn't stay in perfect touch.)
• Through my personal experiences, especially over hundreds of biked kilometers through three seasons' worth of weather, hours poring over insightful books (mainly The Gospel According to Jesus and The Brothers Karamazov), many pages of reflection, experiments with cooking (which I had to do for a salty 90% of my sustenance), making travel arrangements, watching my budget, watching my diet, and watching my spiritual health, I gained the valuable knowledge of what it actually means to survive on one’s own.
• And through everything else that I either haven’t listed or realized yet, I learned other things that I…either haven’t listed or realized yet.
Ironically, despite all this I am discovering now in retrospect (though conscious that the semester’s retrospect is only four days old) that the point of studying abroad is perhaps not to take these "cultural experiences" or this "personal growth" back home. I think instead that the point is to give and leave worthwhile things behind. I know it's cliche, but hear me out. I hope that I successfully:
• Gave my genuine interest and excitement into others' lives;
• Invested time and energy into understanding different angles of people’s or a culture’s perspectives;
• And shared the life-bread of a Savior's daily saving power to the people I met by prayerfully tearing down personal, political, religious or cultural barriers with intentionality, sensitively creating conversations and making decisions that visibly pointed toward Christ.
What I would love to learn as I move further away from this semester is that giving, investing and sharing of these things brought forth the meaningful personal growth I was looking for the most—growth and accountability in the feeble areas of my human heart. Sure, it's neat to have to deal with a language barrier when buying groceries, but it's imperative to have to deal with a selfish heart when preparing for real-world, real adulthood life.
So did I really really truly achieve all this stuff? Who knows. But it doesn’t matter; these aren’t one-time lessons. Next semester brings it all anew, just in different settings.
But alright, that's all. In the future I'll try to have less lists and more specificity. And maybe next time I'll talk about my bike.

Peeps and Things

One late Sunday night after finals last fall (’09), God led me on a whim to look up on the interwebs “Christians in Freiburg”. I had been praying earnestly that I could quickly find a Christian outlet abroad, for I realized that if I weren’t intentional in my pursuit of Christ I’d be down and out before anyone could say “Hochgeschwindigkeit”. One of the first names I came across on my search was Ms. Helga Webb (not her real name), a long term missionary stationed in the city with Campus Crusade for Christ. That’s cool, thought I. I found her on Facebook and, rather forwardly, explained some spiritual concerns I had for the semester. I talked about the need for a protected heart in a college and/or cultural atmosphere that literally eats Christians by the dozens, and asked if she had any advice on how I could get plugged in to a Christian community. Eventually she emailed me back and agreed to meet once I landed.
Those few emails to Helga went a long way toward keeping up the intentionality of my pursuit as I got settled in. In early March I made it a point to get to know a student from Hope College, a girl named Carla (also not her real name), who was also studying in Freiburg. I had a hunch she might be praying about the same things. Through conversation I quickly found out that she was indeed. I told her about what I’d heard and she seemed genuinely interested in checking things out with me sometime soon. We met up with Helga for coffee not long after and shared who we were, what we were doing in Freiburg, and why we were bugging her. She humored us by inviting us to her church, Calvary Chapel, the next week. This turned out to be a very solid church that even offered English translation every week. I decided right away to go regularly, and happily Carla did too.
On Easter Sunday, Helga and her friends invited us over to their house for lunch and an afternoon of games. On top of the great food, that afternoon marked really the first time in the semester that I was comfortable being myself. The games were fun and the conversation encouraging. I remember specifically talking to a friend named Anna (I honestly couldn't tell you if this is her real name or not) about her recent mission work in eastern Europe, for example. Unfortunately nothing like this ever happened again with Helga. We think she forgot about us, actually. Schade…
During all this time the Lord was developing strong friendships between myself and my roommates, especially two American students, Jonas and Lena (nope, not their real names either). Through lots of prayer, religion became a common topic of our many conversations. Through even more prayer, discussions on the personal side of Christianity soon followed. Sometime in April Lena began coming regularly to Calvary Chapel with Carla and me. Our conversations, as well as our friendship, easily deepened. The three of us would regularly talk for two or three hours every Sunday after church. Our favorite place for these talks was an outdoor café just off the main drag. Because Freiburg was so cold this spring we often had to, much to our shame, utilize the Snuggie-like blankets this café provided. (They weren’t real Snuggies—they lacked the necessary armholes...and zebra stripes!)
One neat thing Calvary Chapel offers is an open tea bar the last Saturday of every month. I definitely hit this up at every chance. The bar gives 20somethings a chance to hit the town in some other way than the typical bar or diskothek (dance club). The church decorates a room with Persian rugs and cushions, and people just sit around enjoying endless chai tea and conversation long into the night. Carla, Lena and I met several new people at this “bar”.
Ahh, meeting new people. I was blessed to meet many, many good people during the semester. Two of the best were Lena’s tandem partner Rebekkah and her boyfriend Markos (both real), both of whom also actually went to Calvary Chapel. I should also include my German suitemates Paul, Phillip and Maryna (yeppers). Over the semester a neat friendship grew between our groups of friends over game nights, Bible studies, weddings, concerts, etc. They and their friends did not treat us as strangers, nor as if we were just some American students they would never see again after a few months. They shared with us about what was going on in their lives and welcomed it when we shared in return. Had I had to spend the entire semester without their uplifting friendship, I would have been very sorely off. They were intentional in sharing things—jokes, interests, unashamedly awful singing, challenges, prayer requests, teaching and genuine hospitality. It definitely made a great impact on my semester.
Next I’ll probably talk about my bike.

And further on (mid March).

(<---Newbie)
Tomorrow will mark three weeks since leaving the states. Because Germany’s academic calendar is so different from ours, it is mid March and I have yet to start my classes, and won’t, in fact, for another three weeks. By that time I will have spent nearly four months outside of class. Yikes! I feel bad for my friends back at the ‘Bash studying for midterms right now, most likely without sleep or food. That is definitely not the case for me.
Because...I’m learning how to cook! You can see I'm very proud of myself. I feel this is the best way to eat on one’s own, and, yes, the cheapest. I take pride in such culinary accomplishments as self-seasoned pasta sauce, Kartoffelpüree (instant mashed potatoes sound much fancier in German), and obtaining good bread. I have been very impressed with the German bread. Extra wheat is always a plus, they say.
I'll try to list a few highlights. A couple weekends back my program (about 20 American college students) went on an excursion deep into the Black Forest hills/mountains around us. We ended up on a mountain named Feldberg, the highest such peak in the German Alps. We strapped on snowshoes and hiked up and all around it, pausing along the way to listen to our guide explain the various curiosities before us: a special tree, animal tracks, how to avoid being hit by skiers, etc. At the top we rested for Schnitzel and hot tea in an old inn before turning around to head back. The view there whacked me in the face (literally, the wind was quite whippy up top). Hill after wooded hill on all sides, with the Swiss Alps shimmering on the far southern horizon. By the day's end we were red faced, exhausted and thirsty, but filled with a good dose of satisfied winter wanderlust.
On March 10 I celebrated my sister’s wedding anniversary with friends at a local Irish pub. At the end of the night I let slip that it was also my birthday. “Well gee wiz,” they said, “another round of nachos for the birthday boy!”
Well, okay. We didn’t actually celebrate my sister’s anniversary, but nevertheless it was a rich experience I heartily enjoyed. Am besten, I was able to enjoy it with a carefully clean conscience. And that I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Settling In (late February).

One week gone, and already all but removed from everything I’ve always considered home. A new language and new places, and new yet-unfamiliar faces. I don’t think it should take long, though, to either find or fashion a new sense of home in this city. Already Freiburg is beginning to feel familiar, outsider as I am. I look forward to doffing my alien mind and melding in with the daily flow of the place and the people, perhaps even finding a sense of belonging, which I crave most of all.
However, just now isn’t the time yet for carving out my place in society. Right now I'm content to focus on the basics of bachelorhood survival: getting places and getting food. Specifically, navigating the public transportation system; crossing the street while avoiding literally thousands of determined German bicyclists; discovering which grocery stores have the cheapest pasta; finding the best Wurst in town; and most important, landing upon the real treasure--the cheapest Döner Kebap.
Sadly, it’s true: right now these are my main priorities. I look forward to having other things on my plate as time goes on, both food- and schedule-wise.
The language aspect of life here has not yet played a critical role, either yay or nay. I consider myself in a listening stage, trying to tune my ears to the strange new sounds around them. This first week I've lain low on the speaking part, having yet had to navigate nothing more complex than ordering lunch or carrying on small talk with my suitemates.
On a weather note, it’s chilly out and a light snow lies around, but in the high noon sun it's really not that bad. Some are saying it should warm up soon. Others say a cold front is moving up from the mountains. I say, "Wenn kommt der Schnee, wenn kommt der Regen, wenn kommt die Sonne: so ist das Leben." (Whether snow, rain or sun, such is life.) I do look forward to June, but as long as I must endure an easily endurable Freiburg winter, I'll be just fine.
Transportation, food, language and weather: all the greatest and least of my first week worries.

Hiking across an open field.

Inhaling deeply
I take joy in
Great big globs of greasy grimy gopher guts.


p.s. I'm searching for the right last line. Any ideas?

This season was made for laughing out loud.

Every morning I awake to church bells across town wishing me good day. I lie in half-darkness behind drawn curtains and drowsily whisper hello in return. This morning there's a quality in them I'm not sure I recognize. I feel I am catching cheer--I don't remember cheer in these morning bells.
Sunlight pours in once again through my now thrown-back curtains. I sip my coffee under the tree outside my front door. It's true. There is a new cheer. The rain is gone.

Foreword the Second

To go on from my previous post, though, I should confess that I am terrible at this type of thing. Keeping track of my daily activities has never been easy for the ole' thinker up there top my neck. The process always seems to turn out much harder than I anticipate. A casual daily journal should be easy: "I woke up at such and such a time and ate such and such for breakfast. I went here, here, here, oh, and there, too, and did such and such a thing with these people. I ate lunch. I ate supper. I brushed my teeth. I went to bed." Shouldn't be too difficult. Thing is, for one reason or another it’s always no-go for me. When I get to reflecting back on a day, I first of all can't remember half the things I've done, and secondly, the half that does come to mind does so as a bundle of meaningless details. The stuff’s there, but why? And all this outside the third half--that is, everyday's jungle of random thoughts unattached in the consciousness to anything at all concrete.
I'm left trying to form tidy evening reflections based off hundreds of disconnected memory dots crazily splayed all over my hippocampus over the previous 24, 48, 20,000+ hours. I sit down to catch my mind’s nightly news, but always end up flicking through a thousand channels a second: "What a great weeken--Referat morgen über etwas in Geschi--Call the folks!" It takes me a good while to connect everything together, the minor details with the meanings behind them, and by the time I figure it out, it’s a new day, week, month, semester…
But every hour of real digging through the mind’s files is an hour well-spent. I consider real personal investment the main goal anytime I sit down to think or write in earnest. Without it am I doing anything more than organizing a mere afternoon travel log?
And not that a daily journal which leaves out personal meaning is altogether useless (depending on the audience); it's just not something I'm interested in keeping. When my five months abroad are over, I want to have a record of what I was thinking, how I was growing, the realness behind what I was experiencing—not simply what I ate for breakfast.
I should confess now, however, that I have to be a hypocrite for a while: I can't promise any meaningful personal commentary in these reflections any time soon. I have thankfully been recording little notes and the like every now and then throughout my whole time here so far, but it will be a good while before any of that sneaks its way onto this page. For one, that kind of reflecting, let alone writing, as I said takes me ages to do, and secondly, for concision's sake I really ought to stay away from it in most of these entries. It’s fun to ramble, but I don’t want to bore anyone.
But speaking of rambling, I need to bring this to a close. So, all in all, as I probably also spent too much of your time saying in the first of these needless Forewords, welcome to the as-yet-mostly-meaningless-but-in-due-time-infused-with-deeper-significance telling of the little details I’ve been up to since March, 2010. I hope you find it a pleasant read.
Yuppers.

Kurzes Vorwort

If you look up “study abroad” in the dictionary you’ll come across this definition: “The extended experience of either pleasant surprise or necessary life-lesson from knowing neither what one will be doing next nor how it will turn out.” I think that sums it up just about right, even if I did come up with it myself. Since February of this year I’ve been experiencing just that every moment of every day in and around Freiburg, Germany. Through ups, downs, gems and duds of all sorts, this always-adventure-filled life has been all in all fantastic for me, and I very much look forward to whatever may come in my remaining two and a half months.
Though I can rightly define my semester so far as knowing neither what I’ll be doing next nor how it will turn out, I should include in that definition the foundational faith that the Lord who has my highest good in mind has been directing all my foggy footsteps from the start. There's a proverb I've had memorized since the wee stages of my life that has truly come to define my personal philosophy since I arrived in Germany: "Trust in the Lord with all of your heart, and lean not on your own understanding. In all of your ways acknowledge the Lord, and he will make your paths straight" (Proverbs 3:5). Perhaps I am mistaken, and perhaps over the course of my life I’ll learn to significantly alter how I understand this verse, but I find in it a key freedom for everyday living that I've accepted more so this semester than ever before. If I leave my heart and mind in the right hands, which I pray to do everyday, I have the freedom to walk with unbridled joy heel to toe, toe to heel or however else my feet may fall, wheresoever my heart and mind may lead. I make choices and I trust them—because I know they are engineered by a higher power.
When I combine that faith with the peace from the promise of Galatians 5:16--that if I live according to the Lord’s desires I’ll be rescued from the deceitful desires of my own sinful nature--I find an incredible license: to grab the vim and vigor out of everyday and every circumstance, whether I'm in Germany or back at school, whether in the middle of nowhere on my bike or the middle of a rich conversation after class. No matter where I am or what I’m doing, if I’m following the right instructions I’ll reach the right destination.
Now that I think of it, there’s a better way to define the study abroad experience, and this written by an author far wiser than myself: “Delight yourself in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart” (Psalm 37:3). As far as I can tell, that’s no bad way to make the most of a semester abroad, even a life altogether.
If I can hold myself to it, this blog will be about the little things I come across living by that glorious definition.