24 July Melbourne - 3 weeks remain

If you're reading this, you likely already know of my plans for the next 3 months, but, for a (not so brief) outline; 

On new year's eve, 2010, I found myself in a campground just outside of Byron Bay, in a tent, moderately drunk, formulating my plans for the upcoming year. It was decided I would go to Berlin for 3 months and learn German. I'd visit art galleries, ride a bike, read German poetry and meet musicians and artists. Then I sobered up and got slightly less pretentious in my ambitions, and simply decided to move to Berlin for the period of my long service leave, and see what happens. The only goals, come November, are to; have the ability to conduct a basic conversation in German; prove or disprove my suspicion that I'm essentially German in my attitude (extremely organised and too often blunt in my opinions); meet interesting people; and take the time to look at art and not associate it with work. I may also read Goethe (though, will refrain from directly quoting his writings at parties).

In preparation, I've started language classes in Melbourne. And so we come to the title of the blog. Don't say ich liebe dich (don't say I love you). This was one of my first lessons in the wonderful nuances of the German language, and insight into the general psyche. According to my German teacher, you don't say I love you to anybody other than your lover. 

'Not your children?', the mothers in class cried in despair. 

'No'. 

'Not your mother, your father or very best friend?'. 

'No'. 

You can tell members of your family or friends that you like them a lot - but, love them, you do not.

This mind you, is the same language that has a word for partner - lebensgefährtin - which literally translates into 'companion who travels with me through life', which transcends the very inadequate 'partner', used in English.

The absolute literalness and simplicity of German is a thing of beauty. The word for dentist - zahnarzt - translates to 'tooth doctor.'

One word which has caused me to roll my eyes in frustration upon encountering it in essays on art - zietgeist - actually means time spirit. So simple, so explanatory.

So far then, the brief introduction, through language, into the world of die Deutschen (the Germans), has me excitedly donning my mental lederhosen in preparation of what's to come.

First up however, is a trip to Istanbul for a pre-German adventure. I will try not to buy a carpet, but cannot promise anything.