Missing Munich after life-changing study abroad
Sam Sjoberg (2019-20), American University, returned home from JYM much sooner than expected
He relates here how his promising study abroad year got cut short by Covid 19 when JYM, along with all other study abroad programs in Europe, was canceled for the second semester. Sam cherished his time abroad despite this and made the most of it. He was one of two Klassensprecher for his group and set up to embark on an internship with the Freie Wähler in the Maximilianeum. The following comes from an article he wrote for his class yearbook JYM Illustrated 2019-20.
Every second in Munich were the best seconds of my life, even during the difficult times and hard lessons. Every second at home has made me wish I could go back. Since my first semester of college, I had wanted to participate in Junior Year in Munich and did everything I could do to make it a reality. I know I could write a whole book on my experiences in München, but here are some of my favorite memories.
I want to take a moment to describe Studentenstadt in detail so that we can all remember it. My second day in Munich was an early, sunny day in September. It was the type of day where the air was cold in the morning, crisp around lunch and uncomfortably humid in the evening because you underestimated the heat. That morning I could see the Alps in the distance with miles of intensely green trees between me and them. The landmarks of the city stood in front of the mountains, interrupting this sea of trees. I could see the domes of the Frauenkirche and the top of the Rathaus. The air was cold and I was shaded by the communist-style complex that was Oranges Haus. I was eating my chocolate granola right out of the box but with a spoon, mind you. The screech of the U6 tickled my ears every ten minutes but was never uncomfortable.
When leaving for the language class that morning, I stepped into the cool hallway with its dim lighting, painted walls and well-used carpets which smelled of dust, as did all of Oranges Haus and Germany. Each step made a 'pat pat pat' sound. I always 'gedrückt' oder 'gezogen' the door the wrong way. I would pass the same painting of a 'nudist' beach scene every day. At first, the elevators in Oranges Haus seemed a matter of life and death with the old-fashioned guillotine-type doors. One presses the button and hears the slam of metal on one floor, the cycling of gears on their floor and then the blur of stickers on the outside of the sliding elevator door coming up to the floor.
Moving outside that day, the morning sun shined over the misty courtyard. Amongst the mistiness, there were small flies which reflected white in the light. The fluttering of the pigeon hordes overhead and the families walking their kids made me feel like my arrival meant extraordinarily little to the city.
I was now a member of a greater community. I was excited that day. We arrived at Giselastraße with the sun shining through the pine trees that lined the street, gleaming through the glass building. It was warmer then, but damp. This language class allowed us Americans to meet some of our soon-to-be closest international friends. For me, this was extremely exciting because it reminded me that the Norwegian over there is probably as scared and inexperienced in this country as I was.
During the breaks in the class, I loved talking to my friends outside and being mocked for going to 'American' University. I quickly learned that standing in the sun meant you were hot but freezing once in the shade. Then came the other Americans' die Amerikaner. Then it was Oktoberfest, Bier, Lederhosen, Mama Lauter, Prosit, Radler ist kein Alkohol, etc.
One of the most pleasant memories was finishing the early German class, sitting in the 'living' room of JYM and seeing everyone come in either tired, smiling, or both. Some would play the guitar, creating a comforting and calming atmosphere in the room. I would more than likely have my early Döner for lunch, how I miss the taste. The dog that would come in every week was neat. All the doors in that building and for that matter in Germany, would make such distinct sounds.
Perhaps that is how the Germans liked to make their entrances, with noisy doors. In around November my good friend (by the way, everyone was my good friend so if I don't mention you by name, blame Sommer for the page restriction) Jacob decided to buy a pullover from the scam of a store, 'Pick and Weigh'. It gained notoriety around that time because the United States and Iran were fighting it out 'diplomatically' but it was described as 'not very low profile'. If you forget what it said, just know it was red and rhymed with Nebraska. One could also hear a 'oh helllllllllllo' from Hannah A. or I or both, accompanied by a volley of 'Hi Servus'. We also practiced our German accents more than our German. Sorry about that one and to Charlotte, for the last one. While pretending to do homework on Wednesdays, the dusty scent of Germany would be interrupted by Professor Söder's pipe smoking. This signaled he had something or another to say about Italy and white men.
I clearly remember being awakened by a phone call on my last full day in Germany. It was from my good friend Sammy who called to tell me, "it's the last Guten Morgen in Deutschland". The closest emotion I can compare to receiving this news is to hearing a loved one died or being robbed (I do not mean to trivialize the passing of a loved one). However, my priorities were clear in my head; I had to complain, return the Lord of the Rings Risk board game to JYM, do a victory lap of my new hometown and pack, in that order.
Everyone's last day in Germany meant something different to them. For me, I felt if I was going to lose this opportunity that I had worked two years for, molded my college career and life around, so I figure I might as well have some fun since I was the first one of our JYM year to leave. That day no one seemed to have a care in the world, except us. Thank you to everyone on that last day for making it unforgettable in a good way.
Someone told me 'they'll only be your friends while you're abroad, you'll never talk to many of them again'. They could not have been more wrong. Beforehand, I was concerned that the formation of my friendships in Munich would be like being hazed in a fraternity; a shared hardship but shallow. I was wrong about that one. I believe we are all more than friends of circumstance. We shared interests, stories, experiences, our fears, our hopes.
I will always remember the first taxi ride with Jacob and Hannah Q. on that humid, rainy day trying to get to know each other while exhausted and nervous. We might not have been ourselves in Munich, sometimes I sure felt I was not, but you all made the whole experience the best. I went for the German, but I stayed for you all. Thank you all! I think the last time many of us were together was during Charlotte's birthday party which was a surprise party. If one night could encapsulate the entire JYM experience it was that one.
We played flunky ball, danced, sang and danced and sang in the Garten. If I knew that would be our last party together than I would have thought it was perfect. I want to think about some parallel universe where we are all still together but what is the point? Why would I want to change what is already beautiful? Now, picture the smiling faces of everyone you met and loved in Munich, sitting in the golden sunlight of an evening in the garden.
Nothing but laughter, music and peace. Let that be the image you remember.
Servus! Sam