Some stories from the past few days:

- I met Erdu, a RWTH student of full Turkish ancestry, tonight while making dinner in one of the common room kitchens where I live. Pretty and talkative, she started talking about the funny differences between America and Germany, why the Brits sound so strange, asked how pancakes are made (she was trying to make an American-style pancake and was instead making crepes), etc. I asked about her parents and her family origins, and she started talking about a trip she made with her family to Turkey a few years ago. She described how the people of her ancestral home made her feel like she doesn't belong there. Her example explains it best: when your parents have been Gastarbeiters (guest workers) in Germany for many years and roll back into their home town in a Mercedes sedan, the locals are obviously going to talk behind their backs about the uppity returnees. Despite the fact that in Germany she is considered Turkish, not German, she also doesn't feel any particular connection to these people she shares common blood with in Turkey. It made me think immediately of how hard it must be to be at times to come from foreign origins, yet feel actually more a part of the country that you were born and grew up in. For me, it would seem like a splitting of two consciousnesses, one resting in an unknown and somewhat legendary past and the other living in a fast-moving future. There are millions of children of German Gastarbeiters in Germany right now, with more stories like Erdu's. We talked about more things, German vs. American popular music and such, but what will stick in my mind for a long time is how she carried herself with such confidence and ease despite her life's identity crisis.

- I visited Koeln this weekend to visit my old friend Hendrik and once more take in the sights of this beautiful Rhineland city. I had no idea that Koeln was once a large Roman outpost, but I got to see artifacts and an excavated set of foundations for the Roman fort/government seat that once stood here called the Praetorium. The whole experience of seeing this living history was amazing. I then met of with Hendrik to visit the immense Koelner Dom, a massive Gothic cathedral that is at once imposing, intricate and awe-inspiring. This was my second visit, and this time the sanctuary was full of tourists, snapping pictures and gaping at the stained-glass windows and religious artworks. I had this weird feeling that this massive testament to the Christian faith has lost something somehow, that the altar at the center of the crucifix-shaped structure somehow had lost its ability to radiate a call to faith. Dutifully, I lighted a candle and placed it before an altar in one of the connected naves with several other hundred like it and tried to pray, to feel His presence. And then a camera went off next to me. I'd be the last to say that tourists should not be let in religious sites, but I couldn't help feeling somewhat jaded with my second visit to the Dom.

- The day before, Hendrik and I went to a local 'battle of the bands,' where the prize was a chance to record an album with major music label- an interesting dynamic. Some of the bands were great, some just ok, but there was one pop-rock group that really stood out, mostly because their lyrics were actually in German. (Most newer music groups in Germany, regardless of genre, tend to write in English to try to garner continent-wide support. The result is a weird pseudo-English that sort of makes sense but skirts the edges of nonsense at times.) The frontman of this group plays lead guitar and also acts as songwriter for the group, all at the age of 17. It was cool to see a kid with his talent not afraid to write and sing in his own tongue, one that is much-maligned for being rough and/or awkward around the world, but actually sounds elegant when sung.

- A few days ago I went running through the woods around the Uniklinikum, which sits about a kilometer from Aachen's center next to a nature reserve, a pond and farm fields. It was late evening and the sun was setting, which is around 10PM or so over here- the sun goes down really late. As I crested a hill next to a sheep farm, I was hit by the brilliance of the evening sky and its reflection off the of the Star Trek set that is the place where I work. In one direction, I could see orange and deep purple reflected off gleaming external ductwork, windows and steel gangways. In the other, I imagined I could see out over the edge of Germany to the Netherlands, Belgium and the Atlantic beyond. Truly a strange and wonderful sight.