Language Camp
It was cold as hell when we stepped out of the BMW. Sneaking it’s way through your clothes, prying and poking till it found your skin. The hard rain didn’t help either. We were in Mannheim.
I was with a host family from Saarland with their Brazilian daughter, Tamira. She spoke no English, only Portuguese. The train was late. Standing on the platform in the freezing cold and pelting rain with a host family who spoke only Deutch and a girl who spoke no English, I couldn’t help but think; “Where are the other freaking Americans?!”
Up from the tube came the huge figure of Peter, Thor as we have dubbed him, Kati, Nick, Mateo, and a very odd looking, obviously French boy. I recognized them from the plane and we grabbed some seats together on the ICE (Inter-City-Express) train. Don’t ask me why the acronym is in English, I honestly don’t know. Mateo is from Ecuador, Pierre from France, Pete from Nevada, Kati from Illinois, and Nick is from California. We were quite the Rotary troupe taking the train, taking up almost half a car.
When we pulled into Fulda, still in the pouring rain mind you, each of us dragged our bags off the platform and down to the specified meeting place. We were there extremely early and we didn’t realize this until all the other Rotary kids showed up 45 minutes later. Introductions were made, cards were exchanged, but everyone still had a fake smile plastered over their own internal fear and biting cold.
The group was escorted to a large tour bus by a number of Rotarians from 1860 as well as 1820. There were 44 of us total. Thus began the adventure of the Wassakuppe.
To get to the Language Camp, you must travel 50km up into the mountains outside of Fulda. You pass through a few ramshackle villages, but really, you are going out into the middle of nowhere. The boonies or the sticks to be exact.
Somebody came over the bus loudspeaker and told us that we had gained 900 meters in elevation. The bus was finally leveling off. We were all expecting to be some out in the woods camping, fun in the sun, language happy camp. What it was in actuality was an off-season, blown out, ski spot. The “town” that we were going to be living in consisted of one snack place, a restaurant, a large youth hostel, and three HUGE airplane-esq hangers. To the youth hostel we go.
To get through the gate the bus driver had to present ID, papers for all of us, an 10 Euro in his palm handshake. The fence that surrounded the Wassakuppe was 10 feet tall, with barbed wire around the top. The buildings were some cross between a ski lodge and a 1950’s Cold War army barracks. We were told in about 5 different languages to get off the bus, grab our things, and go up to the dining hall, were at the time we all thought we were going to be executed.
But our preconceived notions were not fulfilled! As it is on a semi regular basis in Germany, a human being cannot go for more than 5 minutes without cake and coffee, or kuchen and kaffee. We were sat down, met our Rotarians, told the extremely basic rules (don’t do anything stupid that you wouldn’t want a Rotarian to see), and let out a collective sigh of relief. The smiles on all of our different colored faces were genuine this time, just heightened by the caffeine and sugar coursing through our veins.
Over the next two weeks I was witness to an amazing experience created by the coming together of manifold cultures and peoples striving towards a single goal. There were kids from Argentina, America, Canada, Ecuador, Mexico, Costa Rica, Venezuela, Brazil, Finland, France, Taiwan, Thailand, Japan, and India.
Days at the Wassakuppe (what the mountain we were on is called) were filled with guitars, hanging out, adventuring, exploring, eating, laughing, learning other languages, learning to swear in other languages (extremely important), and just a real coming together of a bunch of kids thrown into an extreme situation.
Since there were so many inside jokes, and “you just would’ve had to have been there” moments, I’m going to attempt to weed out all but the best, funniest, and most thoughtful.
One of the first things they took us on was a tour of the Wassakuppe, mostly to give us our bearings. Until then, we did not fully appreciate the beauty of our surroundings. We went through a thick forest than along a winding gravel path, the whole time, gaining elevation. Once we reached the top we saw a breathtaking image. Above our heads a roiling sky filled with clouds and breaking sun. Around us there was a huge dome and a German “weather station”. The top of the mountain that we were staying on was the highest point for about 50 miles in any direction. Green farmland splayed out before us like a slowly churning ocean. Peaking and dipping. Tiny roads snaked through the hills to join small groupings of red roof tiled buildings. All of us just sat and took it all in. From this point onward, we all knew camp would be an experience of a lifetime.
Our “counselor” of sorts was a guy named Michael who had been studying English in college for 5 years and needed some extra credits for school. He was only being paid 300 Euro to baby-sit us for 2 weeks. He has long blond hair and a thick Thuringian accent. He plays volleyball and is completely and totally hilarious. He’s got no problem staying up all night with us until 2 a.m just hanging out and telling jokes.
So one day when Baylee, Kati, Nick, Suvi, Pete and myself are walking back from the café with bratwursts mit brotchen (hot dogs with little bread for you AMERICANS) in our hands we see a huge group of people gathered outside of the hostel just screaming their heads off. As we get closer we see that they all have different colors of paint on their faces. Two boys by the name of Hans and Drex recognize us and call out AMERICANERS!!! Nick and I had met these two guys at breakfast one day and had gotten to know eachother and what their group was about. As the Rotary kids were learning German, German schoolkids were learning English. Their entire contingent had decided to play a little capture the flag and the few of us were to be their guests of honor. Their British schoolteachers smeared our faces with paint; hand prints streaks, blotches. Baylee and I were green and black, Kati and Pete were blue and yellow, Suvi and Nick were blood red. Now this was not some “prancing around out in a field” Capture the Flag. This was physical, in the woods, no rules capture the flag. It was getting dark and cold and a light drizzle was starting. Perfect weather for our game. We all rolled up our jeans and were off! (The green and black team got a head-start because we had Crippy. Crippy has crutches.) Running, screaming, tearing through the woods out behind the youth hostel. Busting through bushes, falling into ditches, steam filling the air. Being caught, catching people and dragging them back to the jail. Running up the gravel hill and sliding down the ramp on our wet feet. Once it was pitch black, and people started to really get dinged up, we ended the game. All in all, nobody knew who had won. What we did know, in our oxygen deprived minds, was that we had experienced something special. We all returned to our dorms, late but happy.
The last thing worth mentioning publicly about camp was the day when they brought in the Llamas. There were like 10 of them! Our whole group got to lead the llamas around the Wassakuppe for like 3 hours. It was actually way more fun than it sounds. We got to see really cool landscape, and just the complete dorky-ness of the situation was refreshing.
As for the actual point of the Rotary kids being at camp, the clases were very good. We attended them on weekdays for 4 hours in the morning. Rotary had brought up schoolteachers from Fulda to teach us the basics of the German language. They were extremely good and very nice. At the end, we got to watch Lola Rennt (Run Lola Run) and Der Krieger und die Kaiserin (The Empress and the Warrior).
As camp came to a close, I made many friends, got many pins, and traded many business cards. The train ride from Fulda to Mannheim was quiet, almost solemn. I’m gunna miss those kids that I met, but I know that we shall meet again during my stay in Deutschland.