Butterfly in the sky, I can go twice as high

I can't believe I missed the book fair.

Seriously--I'm the type of person that gets giddy when she watches the opening scene of Disney's Beauty and the Beast, just because there's a library (and one of those awesome rolling ladders to reach the really high shelves). I walk into Borders and then hours later come out a little dazed and a little depressed that I have to leave so soon (even, as is normal, with a few recent purchases in my hand). I spend hours in the library, just smelling the book bindings and staring at the millions of titles and authors, drooling in anticipation of what could one day fall into my lap. Being in the presence of so many books is, to me, better than a free tour of Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory (although getting serenaded by Oompa Loompas would be pretty cool). I get excited thinking about all of the books I haven't yet, but still can, read in my room, on the beach, or, more likely than not, while waiting for or travelling with public transportation.

So just how did it come to pass that I missed the Buchmesse, or book fair, that literally took over the streets of Frankfurt this past week and featured thousands and thousands of volumes from authors all over the world?

Good question.

Luckily for me, the book fair didn't entirely pass me by. Dito, who, to no avail, tried to find me before he left for Frankfurt on Sunday (I was probably running or something stupid like that) to revel with him in the presence of books, realized how distraught I would be and brought me a souvenir. A famous Georgian playwright (whom I guess Dito happens to know) was in Frankfurt at the Buchmesse, selling translations of his play in Georgian, Russian, other languages that I don't speak, and French. Dito got me a signed copy of the French translation of "Otar" which I was very happy to receive (I mean, there's a message to me in Georgian on the inside flap. How cool is that? Plus, this weekend when I go to France, I can read something French on the train. I'll be totally prepared).

Monday, however, was no day to spend reading inside (which, inevitably, happens when one reads a foreign language, because dictionaries are usually ten times as heavy as the actual book, and therefore inconvenient to lug around, while internet translation websites usually can't be accessed outdoors and therefore remain futile). Instead, Hannah, Dito and I decided to venture outside and rollerblade (or, in my case, bike) around Mainz. I opted for the stability of a mountainbike over rollerblades, as 1) I can't rollerblade and refuse to embarass or injure myself, which, with my luck, we all know would happen and 2) because Dito (only) had two pairs of rollerblades and one bicycle. It was a lot of fun--we explored the neighborhoods surrounding the university, and no one got hurt. Imaginary helmets were worn and shielded us from the evil of the concrete (but don't tell Mama Q). It got even better when Dito decided that I was the equivalent of a tow truck and forced me to drag him uphill. But it probably helped burn off all the chocolate I've been eating, so who am I to complain.

Tuesday, however, was a little bit more stressful and complicated, because Tuesday (drum roll, please) was the day that Amanda had her first day of school in Germany. And, because you get what you pay for (source: Mama Q), and I've decided to just take classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays, I got my share of stress for the Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays that I will miss this semester all at once on this glorious Ruby Tuesday. Let's break it down chronologically:

8:21 AM-- Amanda wakes up to the Archies playing on her clock radio, because earlier she had decided that the 8AM class she had seen, which would end promptly at 10AM, was less interesting than the one that started right at 10AM and would be impossible to get to if she took the former class. She had plenty of time.

9:20 AM-- Amanda leaves Inter II to approach target destination UG8-0152 in the Philosophicum, a building she is quite familiar with but, regardless, wants to get to early enough in order to find said classroom and reserve a seat (German students go to class EARLY, man).

9:35 AM-- After wandering through the entire lower levels of the building, Amanda asks somebody if they know where said room number is located. He has no idea. Amanda continues on.

9:45 AM-- After even more wandering, Amanda politely asks another individual if she knows where target desination UG8-0152 is located in aforementioned location. She recommends the first floor. Amanda politely thanks the girl, and, because she has already looked at said level, desperately continues to wander through the entire building.

9:47 AM-- Amanda starts to sweat.

9:48 AM-- Amanda continues to sweat. Profusely.

9:56 AM -- Amanda decides to give up and get some fresh air, already. Have these people never heard of opening up a window? (See blog of Nathan Williams for more details).

10:07 AM-- Amanda returns to Inter II, changes her clothes, eats copious amounts of chocolate, and then promptly falls asleep.

11:47 AM-- Amanda awakens again (this time no Archies), puts on her running shoes, and takes off.

1:20 PM-- After running, stretching, and showering, Amanda eats more chocolate, has a sandwich, and leaves for her 2:00 lecture on the historical novel, once again in the Philosophicum. This time, she knows where the room is--after all, she did spend a significant amount of time in the building earlier in the day.

2:18 PM-- Amanda has been sitting in this classroom for quite some time now, and, despite the fact that the room is packed full of students, has yet to begin her first German lecture. About a minute later, the professor walks in.

3:25 PM-- Everything is going smoothly. The professor is discussing the definition of modern literature. This could make sense, seeing as how the class is entitled the Historical Novel. He begins talking, more specifically, about poetry.

3:31PM-- Amanda gets the outline of the course. On the top is the name of a course that is NOT the Historical Novel, but instead Modern Poetry (Note: the words that plagued Amanda's mind at this time will be censured from this blog).

3:41PM-- Thinking that she, in fact, is to blame for the misunderstanding, Amanda checks just one last time to make sure she wrote down the correct room number. She did. She is even more confused. She eats more chocolate--this time a kind that has a liquid center. The liquid is coffee. Amanda spills it on her pants.

4:15PM-- Third time is the charm--the professor for Amanda's Religionkritik course starts at 4:15 on the dot. Amanda asks her neighbor before the class starts if this is the right room number, and also asks her the title of the course. You can't be too careful. She is relieved to hear that beautiful, two letter German word--'ja,' followed by the melodious (at the time, at least), polysyllabic title of the class.

5:34PM-- Amanda learns that her Middlebury friend Erich is also in the class. Things are looking up. They proceed to visit Hannah, who informs Amanda that she has heard that the Historical Novel was cancelled and replaced by Modern Poetry at the same time, in the same room. So ein Pech.

7:45PM--After eating dinner and deciding that they were going to skip their respective PE courses of choice for the day, Hannah, Dito, and Amanda took the bus into the city to once again eat lovely ice cream creations.

Note: the previous data seems to suggest to the inquiring eye that the level of stress in a homo sapien's daily activities corresponds directly to the intake of chocolate and/or desserts.

Fascinating.

To wrap up the desription of my courses thus far, I'll have you know that I illegally sat in on a French class yesterday evening (apparently it's against the rules, aka Language Pledge, to take another foreign language unless you are planning on studying in another location the following semester with that language, which I'm not). I was the youngest person there. We all had to say our ages, for some reason, and everyone there was 25. The professor thought I had trouble saying French numbers when it was my turn to say my age. Then, when asked where I'm from, I promptly said USA, and, for some reason, this seemed to clarify to everyone why I am 20 years old.

This morning (8 AM!) I went to a class on the 1980's. I'm wicked excited for this class. In the intro power point the professor actually had multiple pictures of Michael Jackson, a collage featuring a rubics cube, and quoted that lovely diddy "Video Killed the Radio Star." Pretty much everything featured in VH1's "I Love the '80's: Part Deux" was in that powerpoint, which means that the class description should just say AMANDA QUINLAN in very bold and very capital letters.

The next class I went to was about the post-war era in Germany, which I'm also very excited for. I still have one class left to go to today at 4:00: The History of NSDAP (aka the Nazi party). So, essentially, my Thursdays are culture/history classes that are in reverse chronological order. Life is good.

Earlier today I went on a run. And, since we know my life is never boring while running, I will tell you a little story involving a mystery plant in Germany that stings when you touch it and leaves your hand feeling like it is half-asleep. Warning: rash may or may not occur.

That's actually the gist of the story--I touched a mystery plant and now I have a rash and a pins-and-needles sensation in my hand. Hannah, who lived in Germany when she was younger, told me what the name of it was, but now I can't remember. She, too, has fallen victim to such botanical evils. Oh, the horror!

I also had to climb/tunnel under a few fences today.

Wouldn't you like to know...

Peace, love, and 9:30PM dinners,

Amanda