03 August 2015
MusikPark – Erfurt
Erfurt, Thuringia, Germany -- Back in Morgantown, my idea of a good weekend has never included a trip to the club. It’s quite possibly my least favorite thing to do. It’s too loud to talk, everyone is sloppy drunk, and the music is always shit. So when I was asked to go out to the clubs, here in Erfurt, by my roommate Luis, my first reaction was less than positive. Why would I want to waste a Thursday night in an environment I already knew I was going to hate?
Holy hell was I wrong. The club scene is unlike any club I’ve been too back home. Forget the top 40 remixes, forget the same dance for hours on end, and forget the obnoxious competition between the bass and your conversation. It’s all different here, and the difference is good.
MusikPark has become one of my favorite nightlife destinations in Erfurt. Thursday nights are the choice night for this joint. Free entry combined with six free euro at the door… It’s almost like they want you to party with them. They literally pay you to come.
The magic is in the name with MusikPark. It’s all about the music. Inside you won’t find a crowded dancefloor and a single bar off to side with no chance of getting a drink. Instead you find four dancefloors, each with their own bar with ample seating and a different music theme. Want to jam out to some 90’s rock? There’s a room for that. Want to rave to some EDM? There’s a room for that. Maybe you want to be cliché and dance to the charts. Well guess what, there’s also a room for that.
Speaking of EDM, their scene here is on point. It’s always vibing in the perfect direction, and each song primes you for the next and it just works. It could be the ready supply of easily accessible alcohol, but the way the DJ their music is the perfect formula for feeling good. Drink, dance, and repeat. That’s what it’s all about.
My first night at MusikPark had me hooked. I sat down at the bar, and immediately started groovin’. The music was just so good. It wasn’t long before I was on the dance floor. I’ll never claim to be good at dancing, and generally I feel like a three legged dog with Parkinson’s, but in German night clubs you can just let loose. Everyone is there to have a good time, and the culture here focuses more on that than being concerned about what anyone else is doing. Unlike American clubs, the people there are just there to be themselves. Perhaps this has just been my experience, but there’s something different going on here.
All of the clubs back at home could go out of business, and my life wouldn’t be affected in the slightest. They’re awful, dirty, expensive and just not fun to me. Here though, they’ve figured out how to really party. Good music, good drink, and a good time. It’s definitely something I’ll miss once I’m home.
03 August 2015
Leipzig
Leipzig -- Being only an hour away from Erfurt, Leipzig was the obvious choice for a day trip. The original plan was to head to Munich for a night, but after two of the four people going bailed the morning of, Norbert and I decided to try our hand at a bro-day in Leipzig.
Leipzig Hauptbahnhof is f****** immense. It doesn’t quite feel like your outside, but it definitely doesn’t feel like you’re inside. It’s as if they took a field, a big open field, and put walls up and a roof. The ceiling felt like the sky.
When we finally got outside, the city felt oddly like I was back in DC. I never really saw any skyscrapers, and the roads were wide and full of traffic. Even the color of the buildings resembled DC. I don’t know what it was about Leipzig, but it gave off a feeling of comfort. Walking through the streets proved that it wasn’t void of life, quite the contrary actually; yet it was so quiet and peaceful. Even in the city center, where the crowds were shopping, and eating, and drinking, there was an aura of calm. Nobody seemed in a rush, and no one had a reason to be loud.
Leipzig also had some of the most expansive parks of any city I’ve been to. If you walk for long enough on any street, you’ll eventually wind up in an open field. People were laying out in the sun, reading books, kicking around soccer balls, but the parks were so large that they never looked crowded.
Somehow, Norbert and I ended up on a mock beach situated next to one of the many canals. It was complete with a tiki hut, cushioned, reclined platforms, and sand between our toes. After a few beers here, we realized that we had just spent over an hour sitting at this fake beach! Looking back, this is an accurate metaphor for the city from what I saw. It’s so open, and it puts your mind in a state where time is no longer important. It’s a city that encourages you to just take a breath.
We finally gathered ourselves, went and had some lunch at a double decker, conveyor belt, sushi thing and went to find a museum so we could say we did at least one touristy thing during our visit. We decided on the contemporary art museum. Even though the city is known for much more, including Bach, we wanted to do something a little less conventional. We definitely found it.
Inside this museum were physical rehabilitation oriented art, a video of a women covering her entire face in lipstick, and an expose on Syrian refugees to Germany. Quite strange, but seriously one of the coolest art galleries I’ve been too.
Like any good day trip, we decided to kill the last hour waiting for our train at a pub. I had a good bottle of wine, Norbert had whiskey and apple juice, and we concluded our bro-day in Leipzig.
02 August 2015
A Trip to Berlin
Berlin -- I wasn’t particularly excited for Berlin. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to go, I just didn’t know much about it. My dad had told me about Reagan’s famous “Tear down that wall” speech, and I knew it had been a hot bed for Cold War rivalry, but other than the key historical facts, it was just another German city with a notable past. For me, the most exciting part of this excursion was the added perk of being paid for. I was going in blind, for better or for worse.
The bus ride into the city wasn’t exactly ideal. Four hours packed into a cramped tube trudging its way down the autobahn, sitting next to a large German man who had yet to discover the wonders of modern deodorant, watching as Beamers and Porsches whizzed down the road at near-Mach speeds had be questioning the reason behind this journey to Berlin. Why not take a train? Why go at all? Of course, this is a dramatic response to an uncomfortable moment in time, but was not a positive primer to the coming days.
We arrived in Berlin, and after 30 more minutes of tramming and walking, we finally arrived at the hostel. City Stay, I believe it was called; located in the East side, right next towering needle that marked Alexander Platz. Over the next few days, this tower served as my point of reference for navigating the busy streets. It became known as the “big, pointy thing”. Anywhere I went, if I could get a view of the needle I knew I could get home. Berlin is a large, complex city, so this sense of direction was comforting and encouraged my exploration.
During our first night in the city, we stumbled across a bar with a name that I can hardly pronounce, much less spell. The bar sat at the end of obscured alley that was tagged with various graffiti from the street to the door. It was dark, and decorated with ghoulish, troll-like figures and demonic pictures. There were yellowish fish-tanks built into the bar, but were void of any life. Instead they were inhabited by dead crustaceans and what looked like the floating remnants of a finch. Quite odd indeed, but the bar had enough seats for our large group so we decided to post up and start our night.
I had been told that Berlin was unlike any other city in Germany, and that it was more of a mixing pot of cultures spanning all over the world than the German capital. However, my previous experiences in German cities such as Frankfurt, Cologne, Leipzig and Erfurt conditioned me to expect that bartenders and servers prefer to speak in German while taking orders. Based on previous observations, I assume this ties into the efficiency of the people. I began to order a Jack and Coke in my wretched and broken, and was caught off guard when the cute barkeep snapped at me in a thick English accent, “I speak English, and haven’t got all day! Come on, what’ll it be?” Finally! A native English-speaking bartender! This may not seem like such a big deal in hindsight, but at the time I was ecstatic. In every other German city I had visited, English was always a second language - if encountered at all.
This encounter wouldn’t be so notable if it wasn’t prevalent throughout the city. Everywhere I went, there seemed to be English-speaking natives. Most often they were youth travelling through the city as a stop on their Euro tour. My second night was spent on a pub crawl. Here there were seven or eight nations represented, and throughout the evening I found myself conversing with Irish, Scottish, English, and Australians. I found it quite refreshing to be able to speak freely with people who weren’t constantly translating. Berlin is the only city in Germany I’ve found where I’ve been able to do this. Frankfurt, Cologne, and Leipzig are large cities as well, but they are still very much German cities. Berlin, on the other hand, is a global city. It is a place where cultures intersect, and roll into one.
Although, to generalize all of Berlin as a single city is far from accurate. During my time in the capital of Germany, I had the opportunity to explore both sides of the wall. While the city is no longer divided by law, there still exists a de facto separation between the East and the West. While cultural differences are much less noticeable among the younger generation, the older folk, those who remember the wall, still seem separated in their ways. In the West, the majority of people are friendly and will smile back if you extend the gesture while walking in the street. In the east, this is not so. I remember two encounters, similar in nature – each occurring on opposite sides of the wall. Both involve me bumping into a woman as I tried to lock my bike up on the sidewalk. In the West, I swung around the rear of the bike and connected the back tire to an elderly woman’s knee. Not too hard, but hard enough to warrant an immediate apology. She smiled and brushed it off, and was quick to verbally forgive me. I don’t know exactly what she said, but her warm smile and body language said that she knew it was an accident and there wasn’t a problem. In the East, once locking the chain on my bike, I took a step backward into the sidewalk and accidentally cut off another elderly woman. She had a much different demeanor. As I tried to apologize she snapped a quick phrase in German, gave the meanest look I think she could muster, and continued marching down the street. These encounters could probably be attributed to the individuals, but I feel as though they encompass the vibe of each side. The West being much more open and individualist, and the East being much more private and collective.
I didn’t know what to expect in Berlin, but I’ve learned that I want to go back. The people, the history, and the culture make for one of the most diverse atmosphere’s I’ve yet to experience. Three days wasn’t nearly enough, yet I could go on for pages about what I saw and did. I hope to find myself in Berlin again one day, but with more time to truly get lost in its maze of streets, allies, and paths. The city has so much to offer, and it all deserves to be seen.
01 August 2015
Amsterdam, Netherlands
Amsterdam -- Oh Amsterdam… I’ll do my best to properly describe this city, but I feel it is one of those places you truly have to experience to understand.
This was the trip I was most excited for. I’m hesitant to call it a trip though, as it was more of a mid-semester vacation to blow off some steam. Without incriminating myself too much, I had heard all about the coffee shop scene and was eager to see what it was all about, first hand.
The coffee shops are not hard to find, and seem to outnumber just about every other type of business. Especially in the red-light district, each block had at least one with smoke billowing out of the doors and soft eyed patrons sitting in the windows. They’re like candy shops for stoners. You walk up to the bar, pick out what you want on the menu, and just light up. I’m not sure why, but joints were the most popular method of smoking. Though, each shop had all sorts of glass offerings to accompany your bud.
Smoking in public was the strangest thing. I’ve had the opportunity to try legal pot in Colorado, so it wasn’t the legality that through me off. No, I think it was the social setting that was created by the coffee shops. Many of them strived for a lounge-style atmosphere, but the constant hustle and bustle of tourists completely out of their element did not pair well with the calm, peaceful desire of a good stone. I think the worst setting I found myself in was a coffee shop trying to be a night club. I found their attempt at combining party music, black lights, and marijuana quite unsettling. The combination of the two, VERY different environments, just threw me way off.
An interesting thing to note about Amsterdam is how early it quiets down. The inner portion of the city is as loud and as rowdy as the best of them, but once two am hits, it becomes a ghost town. Perhaps this can be attributed to the amount of pot consumption. The people just can’t stay awake.
If you go to Amsterdam, be sure to spend some time in the red-light district and experience the party scene, but make sure to head outside of it. The city is absolutely stunning with its canals and bridges. It’s like night and day compared to the inner city. Here is where you will find things like the Rembrandt House, the Van Gogh House, the Anne Frank House and the Royal Art Museum. While the red-light district is what makes Amsterdam a global destination, this is what makes Amsterdam special.
I had no idea how historically significant the city was. I thought it was just another place designed as an effective tourist trap. It’s got some awesome culture and stories hidden in it though, and is a must see for anyone considering a Eurotrip.
31 July 2015
Frankfurt, Cologne and Brussels
Frankfurt, Cologne, and Brussels -- This trip began as a German city tour. The plan was to spend a night in Frankfurt in Andi’s friend’s apartment, train to Cologne for a few hours of exploring, then pop over for a night in Dusseldorf. The only city I knew anything about was Frankfurt, and only because a friend of mine from high school, Celina, is from there. Other than that though, I was just excited to begin travelling.
Unfortunately I didn’t get to do much in Frankfurt since we started our exploration rather late. I’d like to go back one day, but circumstance prevented a true view of the city. The next morning we headed to catch the train to Cologne, but three of us got separated from the group while trying to procure breakfast.
This is where the trip became interesting. Andi, Sam, and I quickly found the next train to Cologne. Thankfully it was only a fifteen minute separation, so we weren’t far behind. As we were on route to our next destination, Andi flipped through the train’s itinerary and quietly said, “Hmm.. If we were to stay on this train, we’d end up in Brussels..”
Sold.
We rendezvous with our friends in Cologne, take a stroll through the Dom (a terrifying example of Catholic power), grab some lunch, and make the final decision to divert our excursion to Brussels. No plans. Nothing booked. Just straight up wingin’ it.
This is how not to travel.
If you ever decide to go Brussels via train, be sure to know the difference between Midi and Centraal. Centraal is where you want to go. It’s a wonderful place, full of waffles, beer and the nicest people from all over the globe. Midi is quite the opposite. It is essentially the ghetto, and the smell can only be described as belonging in the deepest depths of an inner city metro station. This is where we got off.
First thing on the to-do list was find a roof to sleep under. We needed somewhere cheap, and with enough room for seven people. This might’ve been easy without any additional obstacles, but where’s the fun in ease? The first place we check has enough room, it’s affordable, but good lord was it bad. Just a miserable place. I’m of the mindset that I can do anything for a night. It’s just one night, it’s getting dark, and we need somewhere to put our things. The six girls I was travelling with though lived by an alternate philosophy though, and after much deliberation, we decided to try somewhere else.
Hostel after hostel, inn after inn, everything was booked. It didn’t make sense. How could every hotel in Brussels be booked? Finally, one of the receptionists was kind enough to inform us of a strike that had everyone coming to Brussels. I don’t know what the deal was, I don’t know why the strike explained our struggle, but out of the seventeen or so places we tried, the majority were full or didn’t have space.
Still in Midi, not knowing that Centraal even existed, we found a Middle-Eastern place ran by a man with three fingers and as many rooms to spare. We jumped on the opportunity. I entered the room with Sam, and the look on her face was of sheer terror. It was more of a closet than a room. One bed, a broken shower in the corner, a bug on the pillows, and the best – what looked like bloodstains on the floor. It was so bad, but I was still in the mindset that we needed to post up for the night. We were getting frustrated, and we were quickly devolving into an angry mob of foreigners. We needed a home base.
I thank god that a few of the girls made it clear they were not staying there. I can’t lie, I was pissed at the time, and just wanted somewhere to stay, but that was the right decision. We discovered that Midi did not mean middle, and that we needed to head to Centraal. We still had to wander for another two hours, we still got rejected by every hotel, and we eventually had to split up, but just as it was about to strike midnight, each group found a good, clean place to stay.
The group remained divided the next day due to the frustrations from the previous night, but despite all of the struggle, Brussels turned out to be a beautiful city rich with history that I got to absorb from the comfort of an open air bus complete with audio tour and a hop on hop off policy. We made friends, drank a plethora of good beer, and ended up staying an extra night. Truly one of my favorite cities. Even after the horrible first evening, I’d go back in a heartbeat.
30 July 2015
Intercultural Adaptation Theory: Shocked
To clarify, intercultural adaptation is the theory explaining one’s comfort and adjustment level when inserted into a new culture. It is rate on a scale from 1-4. One is the honeymoon stage, when everything is new and exciting. All of the differences are positively stimulating, and the culture can do no wrong. Two is culture shock. This is the stage where the cultural differences become annoying. In this stage, during an intercultural exchange/conflict, you are likely to shut down and revert to your own cultural ways. A three on the scale is cultural adjustment. This is when acceptance of the new culture begins to take place. Instead of becoming nervous, angry, or frustrated with a cultural difference, you are able to accept the difference and try to adjust to it accordingly. Four is total adaptation. This is when you accept the new culture as your own without having to think about it. I think that it can be best described as cultural fluency.
I really hoped to make it to a three, but I think I was naïve in thinking that this would be an easy task. I consider myself fairly open minded, and assumed that I would be able to tell myself that things are different over here and have everything be ok. I began the trip trying to use my German whenever possible, often being corrected or told to just speak in English. As bad as my attempts where, I still made the effort.
As time went on though, the amount of effort I have put in has dwindle dramatically. Honestly, I think that I have been stagnant at a two for some time now. I don’t hate the culture, so much as I’m tired of trying to adjust. It has been exhausting trying to communicate and abide by a completely new set of social rules. I’ve had a lot of fun, the experiences have been extraordinary, but I look forward to being back in the states.
On the flipside, I believe that my intercultural competency has improved. I do not fear interaction, and I have identified the best ways to get my point across. I am able to recognize the cultural differences, and I am fully aware that I am a fish out of water. Like I said though, constantly having to encode my messages to accommodate a differing culture has worn me out.
I’m ok with being at two. I hoped to adopt the new culture more than I have, but it has been much more work than I anticipated. I’m happy that I’ve been able to recognize differences, and I can tell friends back at home all about how Germany is different; but that’s where I’m excited to be. Home.
12 July 2015
A Parallel Universe
Erfurt, Thuringia, Germany -- So familiarly different. This impression has stayed true since arriving here in Erfurt. Walk down the street and everyone looks as if they could be English-speaking Americans. In fact, remove the language barrier and the town would have the same casual, low-key vibe as my hometown of Annapolis; the rustic architecture, the red brick, the weathered stone, the bustling weekend crowds lapping up their rapidly melting ice-cream cones. Some things remain universal, even halfway across the globe. The differences are subtle at first. There is a time-release culture shock here, rather than the injection I was expecting.
Seat yourself for dinner, and once you’ve waited the apparent, customary, priming time, your server will finally approach. I assume they give this time for you to review the menu and figure out what you want. Once the server has arrived, I have found that they are quick, direct, and often times impatient. This does not speak to the “aggressive German” stereotype, instead it is about efficiency. Unlike in the states, the server’s paycheck is not dependent on how friendly they are. Unfortunately this has taken some getting used to, and often times we’ve expected an introduction visit from our waiter before considering what we want to eat and drink. This is wrong. When they are ready, they expect you to be ready as well.
Then once you order, you can expect to wait quite a while for your food that may or may not come out all once. The juxtaposition between the eager staff, and the time waited to indulge on your favorite traditional dish points to a culture based on “hurry-up-and-wait” philosophy. I recognize that I am stereotyping German wait staff, and it must be noted that the accommodation we generally receive has been much appreciated. However, this trope seems to be common in many restaurants.
Apply this philosophy to pedestrian law. I’ve noticed that many of locals walk quickly and with a purpose. It’s as if they are perpetually late to an important meeting. Come to an intersection however, and God forbid you jaywalk. There might not be a car in sight, yet the power walkers will wait until their signal turns green. In order to get onto our tram to head into town, we must cross a street that is generally light of traffic. I recall crossing on a particularly slow day, and was promptly scolded by small child. “ROT! IST ROT!”, or something similar. I looked at him and shook my head in confusion, “Spreche kein Deutsch.” He looked back, obviously perplexed by my blatant disregard for the iron clad rules regarding the dangerous act of crossing an empty street.
One thing that seems to stay the same though, regardless of where I’ve been, is the differences between individuals. On a macro level, these stereotypes accurately apply. But in general conversation, once the interpersonal social barrier has been broken, the people are more likely to toss their efficiency and adherence to the rules aside in favor of a relaxed and genuine conversation. This is what has been most fascinating to me. People remain people despite the amount of geographical distance you put between their cultures. How shortsighted it would be to generalize an entire population of people by their cultural norms. In the US, we are known for being loud and obnoxious. I can even confirm that on many occasions, we have been the loudest group in a bar or beer garden. Our social norm is to be loud in groups. It’s not yelling, it’s conversation. This rule doesn’t apply to all of our individuals though. Many in the group are naturally quite, and modest. But I guess that is inherent to the nature of stereotypes. They are generalizations created to explain a culture different from your own. Look a little closer though, and it seems that we’re all the same in the way that we are different.
2 July 2015
Face Negotiation Theory
Erfurt, Thuringia, Germany -- Before coming to Erfurt, I expected my cultural background to be misaligned with that of the Germans. Despite both being considered western cultures, there is no denying the differences in lifestyle between two nations situated on separate continents. I assumed the language barrier, I listened to other’s experiences, and I learned what I could to navigate myself the foreign land.
However, despite this expectation, I have been shocked at how I have changed my persona during times of potential, personal conflict. Back home, I’m a very straight forward individual. I generally say what I’m thinking despite how the other may react. I am usually this way because I am confident in my abilities to resolve most disputes through communication. Over here though, the combination of their cultural norms and the language gap have forced me to avoid conflict at all times. Instead of trying to make my intentions clear, my priority becomes making sure the other knows I’m not upset with them. After all, once in the depths of a verbal dispute, it’s difficult to pull yourself out even with the ability to explain yourself properly.
This change falls in line with Face Negotiation Theory. When I first read about this, I assumed it was being able to predict a person’s emotions through their facial expressions rather than their words. While this sounds accurate (to me at least), the idea of the face is the better compared to the honor of the person. When correcting someone up front, in a direct manner, you have the chance to “hurt” their face. Face Negotiation theorizes that when confronting a person of differing background, both parties try to avoid hurting the other’s face.
I find that everywhere I go, and with each interaction with a new individual, I have a smile on my face and I try to use many hand gestures. I do this to indicate that I am not attacking the person. I want them to understand that I have no mal intent, and that they should not feel the need to be upset with me. Thus far, this method has been effective. I’ve been able to thwart any need for conflict, even though the same interaction back in the states may have led to an assertive interaction.
Back home I do not fear conflict. I know I can always use my words to negate anger. In this country though, I avoid both to save the face of the other as well as my own. This is an interesting thing to have noticed about myself, and I’m curious to see how I handle true conflict if it ever gets to that point.
26 June 2015
Communication Accommodation Theory, or "Try to Dry without English"
Erfurt, Thuringia, Germany --Trying to explore a new city in the states can be extremely
frustrating. People can ignore you.
People can be rude to you. People can give you the wrong direction, just for
kicks… The difference between travelling in the states and travelling here in
Europe though, is that at home I can ask any question I want. I don’t have to
worry about whether or not I’ll offend someone on accident, or if what I’m
saying is overloading their brain to the point of confusion. It’s not their
fault they can’t understand me; it’s not my fault I don’t know the words they
will understand. Language is a powerful tool. The ability to communicate to
each other is what allows humans to grow, and build from each other’s
knowledge. When that tool is taken away, though, what do you do? How do you
find the train station? How do you ask where the bathroom is? How do you find
out where you are, or where to sleep, or where to eat?
This is where the theory of communication accommodation
becomes reality. On my first day in Erfurt, I needed to buy a bath towel. Yes,
I know… How unprepared of me to come to a foreign country without my towel?
Douglas Adams would be so ashamed. I was not the only one though, so in order
to repair our grave mistake, a few friends and I set out into the city to pick
up a new towel. This turned out to be no easy task. Contrary to popular belief,
not everyone in Germany knows English. I know of international symbols for
certain questions: tapping on the top of your wrist to find the time, pinching
your index finger and thumb together and drawing a check to request the bill,
the circle with three raised fingers to ask or say “ok”. These are all helpful
in a plethora of scenarios, but what could possibly be the international symbol
for towel?
The most effective gesture I found was to imitate a cartoon
getting out of the shower and drying off, pulling the towel behind his back,
back and forth, with arms spread wide. As I pulled my imaginary drying cloth
all around my body, the message I was attempting to send finally clicked with
the clerk. A look of understanding came across her face as joy filled my heart.
The struggle to buy a towel was over.
“Tuch!” she said.
“Yes! Tuch, towel! Habt du?”
“Nein..”
God. Damnit.
This cycle repeated two or three times in different stores
until eventually, I was able to find what I needed.
If I were back home, I would have driven to target, picked
out a towel and gone home. A 20 minute journey at most, thanks to being able to
speak. Take away that ability and we devolve into primal beasts doing what
looks like a tribal rain dance in the middle of a local shop. What’s incredible
though is the ability to break down what you are trying to say into the most
basic message possible in a moment’s notice, and how effective it can be. When
we can’t speak to each other, we do whatever we can to make the person
understand, and they try as hard as they can TO understand. In order for this
method of communication to work is for both parties to actively accommodate the
other. As frustrating as this can be at times, I know that the next time I need
a towel, I can use my new international gesture.
12 June 2015
Introduction
In my spare time, I like to write short stories and have plans to begin shooting a short film in the fall. This may sound like a strange endeavor; however, I find that bringing ideas to fruition via video can be one of the most fulfilling creative experiences. Some may find it a tedious exercise in patience, but to me it’s perfectionism judged by perception instead of rules.
Other than that, I am an avid snowboarder, certified scuba diver, ex-skateboarder, and college-goer turned amateur-travel-blogger!
SPICE is going to be a completely new adventure, and I hope to seize every opportunity to do or try something new while studying in Erfurt. I am looking forward to the atmosphere of the University, as it will be new and fresh in my life. A change of scenery is always refreshing, and never fails to motivate me to experience and learn as much as I can. This is going to be an excellent trip, and I cannot wait to get started.
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