Diplomatic relations

Thursday mornings are indisputably the lowest point of my week. The bane of my Berlin existence - Comparative Constitutional Law at 8.15am. This wouldn’t be a problem if I could join the ranks of normal society and go to sleep before 1.30am. But that’s quite clearly impossible. And because it takes 45 minutes to get to uni, I’ve got to wake up by 7 at the latest. In my old life I could survive that level of deprivation. Not any more.

On days like today, my half-asleep self rationalises an extra 20 minutes slumber. This means I have to skip my life-giving shower to make it out the door on time. And because my last class finishes at 4, I spend the whole day with greasy hair, crusty eyes and a bad temper, propped up by bad coffee. Not pleasant. But I get the job done.

Apologies for the lack of posts over the last week and a half. Things have been a bit upside down. The indestructible Courtney and James have been staying in my room for the last few days, stopping by on their world tour of almost everything. As well as having a great catch-up, it was a fantastic excuse to do some quintessential Berlin things such as the Badeschiff, the Soviet War Memorial and Drinking Four Bottles of Red At Dinner Then Speaking Very Bad German. But they have gone, I’ve just spent a small fortune on stamps for my first batch of postcards, and it’s time to get back to business.

The EU Conference was held on Thursday and Friday last week. Already fatigued from diplomatic rhetoric I’d come across in my preparation research and deeply suspicious of the inherent wankiness of “Model” things, my expectations were low. But those expectations were quickly exceeded. I think it was a combination of our Poland flag, stationary and nametag, the self-important thrill of speaking into a desk-microphone or the political wheeling and dealing with the other delegations, that made it a fun couple of days.

It was a privilege to work with Afghan diplomats and find out what they think about the direction of their country. They are very proud of Afghanistan and wanted to make it clear it wasn’t all suicide attacks and opium. Getting to know my colleague from the Polish delegation, Alibaba, was particularly excellent (even though at the reception I was gobsmacked to discover that he’s the same age as me, even though he looks about 50). Although it’s hard to forget eight years of violent news footage, I now know that Afghanistan isn’t a complete basket case of a state – that it has a future and intelligent, capable people working towards it.

This week we also got a new German teacher. Due to some EU-level regulation, our old teacher Doris could only teach for a part of the semester. When we found out that there’d been an administrative mistake and we could keep her a little longer, the Spanish students started dancing on the tables.

Doris was great. With her double-denim outfits (a combination that former residents of the DDR are particularly fond of), her dyed red hair, cuddly physique and recurrent problems with wild pigs in her garden, she was an excellent storyteller and entertaining teacher. We were sad to see her go. So it was with apprehension that we turned up to class on Wednesday to meet her replacement.

WELL. He’s no Doris, that’s for sure. He’s excitable, quick and hilarious. And he’s loud. So loud that my Estonian friend Birgit had to discretely block her ears beneath her curtain of hair. And he has an aversion to learning the “boring” way. I don’t quite know what to make of him yet, but it looks like he’ll be a good teacher. If we go deaf, at least we’ll be laughing when it happens.