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Sprechen Sie American? Wunderbar! By CHAD SLOAN
After many years of listening to everyone's accounts of their European experiences, it was now my turn. I was so excited to finally get to have the life-altering journey that everyone had always told me about. This summer I visited Berlin and some of its surrounding cities in Germany for five weeks, courtesy of the Vocal Arts Department's Lucrezia Bori Award. I noticed that things were different from what I expected as soon as I stepped off the plane. People were not nearly as rude as I had been told to expect. Berlin was something new and exciting that, over the next five weeks, I would learn to love and hate and then, after one week back in the United States, realize how much appreciation I had for its culture and lifestyle.
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| Chad Sloan at the New Palace in Potsdam, a small village outside of Berlin. |
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After a hellaciously long flight (during which I was cursed with the normally enjoyable window seat), I arrived in the terminal scrambling for the bathroom with a ridiculous waddle, and it was at this moment when I realized: "Hey, here I am, in another country. Weird toilets."As I went on my next journey to find a cab, I saw something totally foreign to me. Someone was smoking a cigarette indoors! Billowing stacks of smoke were spewing forth from no less than half the population of the terminal. Being from Kentucky, I am no stranger to shameless, proud smoking. But after living in a country my whole life that has become allergic to such activity, I saw that this place was much more laid back. The smoking, drinking, and late nights; the art around every corner; and an indescribable energy for life in everyone around me gave me so much to learn and explore. It was obvious that the Germans thought much more about living than they did about how to live.When I finally got in the cab, I fumbled towards the front seat with instructions that, had they been in English, would have sounded something like this: "Please, me go away to apartment at my this address, thank you, please." It was nerve-racking, but the driver understood—and then turned around and spoke to me in perfect English. I was grateful, and admittedly embarrassed. This cabdriver spoke two (and possibly more) languages fluently, and here I have nearly earned a master's degree and could barely conjugate verbs.I arrived at my apartment in East Berlin and was pleased by the neighborhood. It was not in the center of town, but it was next to a park and my building looked clean and well kept. I walked towards the door and realized that, in Berlin, they do not use apartment numbers. That doesn't sound like a big deal, but when you are looking at an apartment house with no less than 40 apartments, five stories, and no elevators and you're carrying a 60-pound bag, it can be daunting. I was able to squeeze out enough German to figure out that my apartment was located in the "hinterhaus rechts" (back house right). So, I began my journey knocking on doors asking, "Me looking now for my apartment tree, thanks, please." (I learned "tree" on the plane, so I just went with it. This was something that plagued me on my whole trip. I called it my "traveling-man's Tourette's.") I was met with blank stares, so I tried the same request in English with a German accent. That seemed to be better. The person pointed upstairs, where, thankfully, my key worked.Over the next week, I would settle in nicely. My apartment had everything I needed—including, thankfully, CNN. I found the grocery store, restaurants, and U-Bahn (subway) with little trouble. I explored all over Berlin and saw operas in all three of its world-class opera houses, visited virtually every museum in the city (around 15), and learned how to eat wurst and drink beer like a true Berliner. I visited Potsdam, the castle of Friedrich II, Leipzig, and all the boroughs of the West and East, which only expanded my appreciation for the rich history and culture that I feel we occasionally lack in America. And in addition to all of my sightseeing and experiences, I attended classes at the Goethe Institute, where I studied the German language. After the four-week course was over, I am proud to say that I had many extended conversations with various people entirely in German. I spent many afternoons on Unter den Linden reading and studying, all the time doing my best to try living like a Berliner for the short five weeks I was there. One of those afternoons, I stumbled onto an anti-American rally protesting NATO. There were thousands of people shouting, in English: "Down with the U.S.A." I made sure that I kept my mouth shut, and stood in awe. The lessons I learned in Berlin went far beyond those of German grammar and vocabulary.
I am so thankful for this opportunity. All of my teachers, coaches, and peers at Juilliard realize how important these life-experiences are to your expression in your art—and now I see why. The chance to live in Germany, even for a short time, adds perspective to every German piece of music I listen to or study. In that one month, I learned as much as in an entire year of school. Every student should go if given the opportunity. I suppose that, in order to prove I really learned what I intended to, I should have written this article auf Deutsch. So ... Fahren Sie nach Deutschland. Es ist wunderbar. Chad Sloan is a master's degree candidate in voice.
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