Just Roll With It

Yesterday, at long last, Christine and I managed to meet up with the woman in charge of the exchange program. We had previously been unable to register for classes. With one week to go before lectures start, we were quickly descending into panic. In our minds, meeting with our adviser would set everything in stone.

That...is not the German system. In smaller humanities classes there may be fixed registration dates. They can only manage so many students in their sections.In the lectures, some say that you have until a month into the class before you have to officially register. Others give you the entirety of the semester to "register". Even then, registration really just means that you get access to course materials. In a class with group projects or small recitations, you'll be assigned to a team or section. For those courses that have only one exam at the end of the semester, you could just sign up for the test, never attend the class, and still get credit if you pass the test. Moreover, as exchange students we could not register electronically anyway. We have to write the professor (or the TAs that really run things) and request access to L2P, the RWTH equivalent of Blackboard or Moodle.

Thus, our adviser's advice was simply to show up to the first day and see what happens. The professors all have their own rules regarding attendance, assignment to sections, etc. More and more I understand why in German you don't say that you "take" a course; you "visit" it.

After our meeting, Christine and I decided to take a slight detour on our way to our dorm. This detour led to the Lindt factory's outlet. It is a dangerously short walk away. Chocolate perfumed the air around it. When we entered, I nearly melted at the sight. The room was as large as a hocky rink and filled wall to wall with sweets. Dark, milk, white, hazelnut, caramel, cherry, apple, everything a "Naschkatze" like me could hope for. I let out the occasional longing groan as we wandered past particularly appealing products. However, I had set myself a limit. No more than 2 Euros. It turns out, that did not limit the selection by that much. Plenty of products cost 1,90 Euros. In the end, I knew that everything there was quality, so I may as well maximize quantity. White chocolate and coconut bar, a small dark chocolate mint bar, and a dark chocolate "stick" worked out to 1,90 exactly. They are now gone. Perhaps looking up the factory's location was a bad idea...

However, I did at least attempt to redeem myself by going to Röhnradturnen practice. That is the wheeled gymnastics practice I so gleefully mentioned previously. My first lesson was how to use the binds. Beginners, you see, do not start off totally loose in a giant wheel. The feet get strapped in, and by twisting and pointing in a particular way, friction does the rest. The first move I learned was how to roll in what felt like a slow motion cartwheel. Once the teacher approved of that, he showed me how I could roll backwards and forwards while facing the wheel rim. He then tried something very frightening with me. One foot stays strapped in. The other swings behind me to get me rolling backwards. When I am upside down, the back leg swings forward to keep me going, and I stand upright again with my hands free of the wheel. The terrifying part in this was the constant conviction that my bound foot would slip right out of the shoe. Next, came an assisted "belly roll". This involves hoisting myself up against the rim, sweeping downwards with my hips against a bar, folding over it as I lift up again, and then rolling around to stand inside the wheel once more. It sounds awesome, and it would be if I did it at full speed. The instructor kept things very, very slow. After a few passes, he told me that I could get one of the more advanced students to help me out, which I did. I then did something stupid.

Everyone was busy, and I wanted to try something other than the two basic rolls I knew. However, hanging from one foot had scared me far more than the belly roll ever had. So...I thought why not try that? Just the beginning. Surely, that wouldn't be so bad. I had absolutely no conception of just how much they had been slowing me down. My body rolled to the ground. I saw the floor coming at my face, and I had just enough time to think "Huh, stopping isn't really an option" before my too low lying chin and lips kissed the floor. The wheel stopped awkwardly, the instructor exclaimed "nicht alleine machen!" (don't do that alone) and I stood up with a bleeding inner lip.

That was it for my rolling that night. I got an ice pack, washed the blood off, and tried not to shrink into an embarrassed ball. It did not hurt, it simply made me feel foolish. However, horses and falling and all that. I think I'll go back Wednesday.