Yet another trip report from Pegontheroad.
Jun 15th, 2014, 11:20 AM
#1
Original Poster
Join Date: May 2003
Posts: 12,820
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
Yet another trip report from Pegontheroad.
Basically, my trip was to Göttingen, Germany, for study at the Goethe Institute there, plus an extra week for just fooling around.
I traveled from Spokane to Seattle via Alaska Airlines, who managed to foul up the transfer of my suitcase to Lufthansa. However, Lufthansa gave me a little packet of necessary items, so I wasn't without deodorant, toothbrush, ersatz nightgown and the like.
I took the train to Göttingen (about 2 hours by the ever-efficient Deutsche Bahn) and checked in at the Eden Hotel, where I spent 2 days recovering from jet lag.
On Monday, May 3, I taxied to the Goethe Institute, which is a really impressive castle-like building erected by in early 1900's by a guy who had more money than taste. The woman in charge of accormmodation, Frau Lutz, bless her thoughtful heart, assigned me a room away from most of the other students so that I would have peace and quiet.
I shared a bath with two young women, whom I seldom saw. The room was fine, but the bathroom was another story. In order to use the shower, one had to climb into a bathtub which had quite high sides. It was hard to get in and out of, so that I was apprehensive about it. I was afraid I was going to break my leg getting out of that tub.
After about a week, I explained the situation to Frau Lutz and asked her if she could find a different room for me. She did just that. She put me in a two-person apartment with a kitchen, and bathroom. I offered to pay the extra amount usually charged for the apartment, but she said no, that she wasn't going to charge me.
On to my classroom. It was on the second or third floor--I won't try to explain why I'm being vague about this--suffice it to say that there were lots of stairs and that it's tough doing all those stairs when you're a bit chunky and you have fake knees.
This Goethe Institute is the most demanding one that I have attended, largely, I think, because the students are studying German with the intention of taking advanced classes at the University of Göttingen.
I'm going to post this part of the TR and continue after I demolish the bag of popcorn that's calling my name.
I traveled from Spokane to Seattle via Alaska Airlines, who managed to foul up the transfer of my suitcase to Lufthansa. However, Lufthansa gave me a little packet of necessary items, so I wasn't without deodorant, toothbrush, ersatz nightgown and the like.
I took the train to Göttingen (about 2 hours by the ever-efficient Deutsche Bahn) and checked in at the Eden Hotel, where I spent 2 days recovering from jet lag.
On Monday, May 3, I taxied to the Goethe Institute, which is a really impressive castle-like building erected by in early 1900's by a guy who had more money than taste. The woman in charge of accormmodation, Frau Lutz, bless her thoughtful heart, assigned me a room away from most of the other students so that I would have peace and quiet.
I shared a bath with two young women, whom I seldom saw. The room was fine, but the bathroom was another story. In order to use the shower, one had to climb into a bathtub which had quite high sides. It was hard to get in and out of, so that I was apprehensive about it. I was afraid I was going to break my leg getting out of that tub.
After about a week, I explained the situation to Frau Lutz and asked her if she could find a different room for me. She did just that. She put me in a two-person apartment with a kitchen, and bathroom. I offered to pay the extra amount usually charged for the apartment, but she said no, that she wasn't going to charge me.
On to my classroom. It was on the second or third floor--I won't try to explain why I'm being vague about this--suffice it to say that there were lots of stairs and that it's tough doing all those stairs when you're a bit chunky and you have fake knees.
This Goethe Institute is the most demanding one that I have attended, largely, I think, because the students are studying German with the intention of taking advanced classes at the University of Göttingen.
I'm going to post this part of the TR and continue after I demolish the bag of popcorn that's calling my name.
Jun 15th, 2014, 12:59 PM
#3
Join Date: Jan 2003
Posts: 12,009
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
Waiting to read more of your report.
I remember falling in a tub just like the one you described when we were in Germany about to leave to come home! The high side of the tub caught me under my right arm. It still bothers me to this day! Those things can be deadly!
I remember falling in a tub just like the one you described when we were in Germany about to leave to come home! The high side of the tub caught me under my right arm. It still bothers me to this day! Those things can be deadly!
Jun 15th, 2014, 01:07 PM
#4
Original Poster
Join Date: May 2003
Posts: 12,820
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
Several of my classmates were doctors, all of them very young-looking. Three or four of them were from Libya, one from Syria, and one from Saudi Arabia.
Three of the women docs were from Libya, and they wore the hijab and dark, very covered-up clothes. The only thing I could see of them was their faces and their hands. I couldn't even tell their hair color. Hana and Darein sat next to me, and we became very friendly.
One young (to me, anyway) man, Walid, an orthopedic guy, was especially smart and charming. I liked him a lot. Ahmed, a pathologist, wore my favorite shirt. It had a saying on it: "God save the Queen. I mean it man. It's Great Britain." I laughed every time I looked at that shirt.
Majeed was a tall guy from Saudi Arabia. At first I was intimidated by him, but as the weeks passed and we started talking during the breaks, I came to like him a lot. He told me about his little girl and about the pigeons he kept in the top story of his house. It turned out that his family had 10 horses and he talked about how he loved to ride in the surf or on the sand.
The fellow who sat next to me was a young Chinese, Kong Pai. He was very hard to understand because he had a strong Chinese accent and he spoke very softly. At first I thought he didn't know much German, and I wasn't crazy about working with him, but it turns out he was better than I am. We kept referring to him as the "grammar expert," because he was. If we disagreed on some point, it would always turn out that he was right.
There was also a teenaged attorney from Paraguay. Okay, so she wasn't really teenaged, but she looked so young and she palled around with the young Spanish-speaking girls. There were a couple of other students, too, but they didn't really stand out for me.
I'm doing this in pretty brief installments because I'm pretty lame on the computer and I don't want to do something inept and lose a long post, which I did last week.
Three of the women docs were from Libya, and they wore the hijab and dark, very covered-up clothes. The only thing I could see of them was their faces and their hands. I couldn't even tell their hair color. Hana and Darein sat next to me, and we became very friendly.
One young (to me, anyway) man, Walid, an orthopedic guy, was especially smart and charming. I liked him a lot. Ahmed, a pathologist, wore my favorite shirt. It had a saying on it: "God save the Queen. I mean it man. It's Great Britain." I laughed every time I looked at that shirt.
Majeed was a tall guy from Saudi Arabia. At first I was intimidated by him, but as the weeks passed and we started talking during the breaks, I came to like him a lot. He told me about his little girl and about the pigeons he kept in the top story of his house. It turned out that his family had 10 horses and he talked about how he loved to ride in the surf or on the sand.
The fellow who sat next to me was a young Chinese, Kong Pai. He was very hard to understand because he had a strong Chinese accent and he spoke very softly. At first I thought he didn't know much German, and I wasn't crazy about working with him, but it turns out he was better than I am. We kept referring to him as the "grammar expert," because he was. If we disagreed on some point, it would always turn out that he was right.
There was also a teenaged attorney from Paraguay. Okay, so she wasn't really teenaged, but she looked so young and she palled around with the young Spanish-speaking girls. There were a couple of other students, too, but they didn't really stand out for me.
I'm doing this in pretty brief installments because I'm pretty lame on the computer and I don't want to do something inept and lose a long post, which I did last week.
Jun 15th, 2014, 03:30 PM
#8
Original Poster
Join Date: May 2003
Posts: 12,820
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
As I said, this was the most demanding Goethe Institute I have attended. I've read that Göttingen has been the home of 44 Nobel laureates, all or many of them probably teachers at the University. Many buildings have plaques on the outside telling who lived there and when. Some are Nobel laureates, while others are musicians, poets, or mathematicians. I even saw the name of the theoretical physicist Werner Heisenberg on one of the plaques.
Many of the plaques stated that the occupant had lived there until 1933. I checked some of the names of those who had left at that time, and sure enough, they were Jews.In the case of the occupant of the quirky house across the street, the wife was Jewish, so the couple left. Really a shame.
In the area in which the institute is situated, many of the residences are large and charmless, though there are some that are attractive. The neighborhoods are tree-lined and pleasant, and I enjoyed walking downtown to do a little shopping or to enjoy the town on a Saturday.
The city center is pedestrianized, and the Germans love to sit for hours in the sidewalk cafes with a coffee or to do some shopping before the stores close for the afternoon. One Saturday was election campaign day, so I was forced to use my stock phrase, "Ich bin Amerikanerin," in the worst American accent I could scrape up so as to escape.
Saturday mornings are a great time to stroll through the Zentrum, especially for a little people-watching. I saw one great-looking guy who was either Karl Lagerfield or a reasonable facsimile. The was wearing a looooong white pony tail, a silver brocade jacket, and sunglasses. The woman he was with was not nearly as beautiful as he was! I desperately wanted to follow him to get a better look, but of course I didn't.
The other really memorable scene that comes to me is of a little boy, maybe 9 years old zipping across the cobblestones on his scooter yelling, "Achtung! Achtung! Achtung!" I loved it. That kid really meant business. I love stuff like that.
Many of the plaques stated that the occupant had lived there until 1933. I checked some of the names of those who had left at that time, and sure enough, they were Jews.In the case of the occupant of the quirky house across the street, the wife was Jewish, so the couple left. Really a shame.
In the area in which the institute is situated, many of the residences are large and charmless, though there are some that are attractive. The neighborhoods are tree-lined and pleasant, and I enjoyed walking downtown to do a little shopping or to enjoy the town on a Saturday.
The city center is pedestrianized, and the Germans love to sit for hours in the sidewalk cafes with a coffee or to do some shopping before the stores close for the afternoon. One Saturday was election campaign day, so I was forced to use my stock phrase, "Ich bin Amerikanerin," in the worst American accent I could scrape up so as to escape.
Saturday mornings are a great time to stroll through the Zentrum, especially for a little people-watching. I saw one great-looking guy who was either Karl Lagerfield or a reasonable facsimile. The was wearing a looooong white pony tail, a silver brocade jacket, and sunglasses. The woman he was with was not nearly as beautiful as he was! I desperately wanted to follow him to get a better look, but of course I didn't.
The other really memorable scene that comes to me is of a little boy, maybe 9 years old zipping across the cobblestones on his scooter yelling, "Achtung! Achtung! Achtung!" I loved it. That kid really meant business. I love stuff like that.
Jun 16th, 2014, 07:15 AM
#12
Original Poster
Join Date: May 2003
Posts: 12,820
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
On Sunday I went to Mass at the Jesuit church downtown, St. Michael's. It wasn't as beautiful or as highly ornamented as most churches I've seen in Germany. In fact, it was quite plain. One unusual decorative note was a small statute of the Virgin Mary situated on top of a huge pile of those little tin cups that hold tea light candles. Very odd.
Churches are partly state-supported in Germany, but this part of the country is more Protestant than Catholic. Maybe that had something to do with the plainness of the church.
I usually look for a beautiful church with good music, and this one fell short to some degree in both cases. The music was provided by an organist with a good tenor voice, but the Germans are such dedicated singers that they made up for any lack in the music. Not that there was really a lack, but I've heard such wonderful music in other churches that this one failed in comparison.
The church was very full, which always surprises me, since I've heard how un-religious Europeans are. I attended the 11:30 Mass, and there were 4 or 5 other Masses listed.
The first Sunday that I attended Mass, there were 2 or 3 beggars outside the church. They all looked pretty pitiful, so I gave a little to each. The second Sunday their number had increased to 4 or 5 pitiful beggars, and I had only a one euro piece and 1 cent, 5 cent and 10 cent pieces in my wallet, so I slipped into a little side court to avoid them.
Wouldn't you know that one of the beggars from last week had spotted me and knew me for a soft touch. He followed me into the court and muttered whatever it is that they mutter, so I emptied my wallet of these coins that probably added up to 25 cents American.
I say "Whatever it is that they mutter," because they don't seem to be German, and they mutter in some foreign language. Germany seems to have a good social security system, but these folks seem to have fallen through the cracks.
I was a little surprised at how many obviously non-German people I saw in Göttingen, a lot more than I remember in the past. I think the Germans do a better job of accepting and integrating immigrants than we do in the States. It seems to me that they have more programs and more planned ways of ensuring that immigrants are successful. That's how it looks to me at first glance anyway.
When I went downtown, I always took a taxi back to the Goethe Institute because, though the distance was only about half a mile, it was uphill, and with my chubby body and stainless steel knees, walking back would have been a trial.
The taxi drivers were always Middle Eastern men, and they were always curious about me and quite chatty. I guess they don't encounter many white-haired elderly non-German women who want to go to the Goethe Institute. They always told me where they were from and how many years they'd lived in Germany, and they often told me about relatives who lived in the States.
Churches are partly state-supported in Germany, but this part of the country is more Protestant than Catholic. Maybe that had something to do with the plainness of the church.
I usually look for a beautiful church with good music, and this one fell short to some degree in both cases. The music was provided by an organist with a good tenor voice, but the Germans are such dedicated singers that they made up for any lack in the music. Not that there was really a lack, but I've heard such wonderful music in other churches that this one failed in comparison.
The church was very full, which always surprises me, since I've heard how un-religious Europeans are. I attended the 11:30 Mass, and there were 4 or 5 other Masses listed.
The first Sunday that I attended Mass, there were 2 or 3 beggars outside the church. They all looked pretty pitiful, so I gave a little to each. The second Sunday their number had increased to 4 or 5 pitiful beggars, and I had only a one euro piece and 1 cent, 5 cent and 10 cent pieces in my wallet, so I slipped into a little side court to avoid them.
Wouldn't you know that one of the beggars from last week had spotted me and knew me for a soft touch. He followed me into the court and muttered whatever it is that they mutter, so I emptied my wallet of these coins that probably added up to 25 cents American.
I say "Whatever it is that they mutter," because they don't seem to be German, and they mutter in some foreign language. Germany seems to have a good social security system, but these folks seem to have fallen through the cracks.
I was a little surprised at how many obviously non-German people I saw in Göttingen, a lot more than I remember in the past. I think the Germans do a better job of accepting and integrating immigrants than we do in the States. It seems to me that they have more programs and more planned ways of ensuring that immigrants are successful. That's how it looks to me at first glance anyway.
When I went downtown, I always took a taxi back to the Goethe Institute because, though the distance was only about half a mile, it was uphill, and with my chubby body and stainless steel knees, walking back would have been a trial.
The taxi drivers were always Middle Eastern men, and they were always curious about me and quite chatty. I guess they don't encounter many white-haired elderly non-German women who want to go to the Goethe Institute. They always told me where they were from and how many years they'd lived in Germany, and they often told me about relatives who lived in the States.
Jun 16th, 2014, 08:09 AM
#14
Join Date: Jan 2003
Posts: 2,556
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
Yes, I'm enjoying this too.
I appreciate your observational style of recounting in small, short paragraphs, and for keeping it honest and real.
I too always seem to end up having inquisitive taxi-drivers which turn the journeys into friendly and sometimes insightful conversations; I've even received many useful recommendations about places and sites to visit from some of them during my travels.
Looking forward to more.
I appreciate your observational style of recounting in small, short paragraphs, and for keeping it honest and real.
I too always seem to end up having inquisitive taxi-drivers which turn the journeys into friendly and sometimes insightful conversations; I've even received many useful recommendations about places and sites to visit from some of them during my travels.
Looking forward to more.
Jun 16th, 2014, 08:14 AM
#15
Original Poster
Join Date: May 2003
Posts: 12,820
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
Okay, now more about the Goethe Institute and my experiences there. First of all, the architectural style of the original building can be described as "palatial/monumental," though there have been mundane additions and alterations to accommodate its uses as a youth hostel and now as the Goethe Institute.
The original building has as its core a vast hall of a style suited to a castle or a royal Bavarian hunting lodge. It is now used mostly as a center for institute students to hang out and socialize. There were rooms leading off this hall, and many offices and dorm rooms built later in other parts of the building.
To access my classroom, I went up two short flights and two full flights of stairs. That wasn't bad first thing in the morning, but at the first break (after an hour and a half of class), when I went down into the basement cafeteria for a desperately needed Cappuchino, adding another flight of stairs. Then, of course, back up those three flights.
The upstairs hall was a sort of mezzanine, with a balcony that ran around the vast hall already mentioned. For the second break, unwilling to do the stairs again, I stayed in the upstairs hall, doing my best to interfere with the numerous of my fellow students whose attention was riveted on their electronics. It was kind of funny. I'd go out with my Kindle, ready to relax in the more comfortable chairs, and every single pair of eyes I saw was glued to electronics of some sort.
At times, pushy broad that I am, I'd interrupt and start up a conversation. I talk a lot, which sometimes embarrasses me, but in the Goethe Institute, it seemed to be acceptable. I think it must have been in the upstairs balcony that I met this young Spanish boy who would come up and chat with me occasionally. He was an interesting-looking guy, with wild dark hair and a look of Tony Perkins in "Psycho." He also smelled strongly of garlic.
Somewhere along the line, I'd mentioned that I'd been to Málaga, Spain, for Semana Santa a couple of times. I undoubtedly raved about it, because it was such a great experience. The young Spaniard had been born in Málaga, so he was drawn to me to talk about it.
I told him about taking a picture of an old man and later being puzzled about why I'd taken that particular photo until I listened to my digital recorder and heard him singing the traditional mournful song that's sung during the processions. He tried to tell me that the song was the Saeta, but I was oblivious and didn't at first agree with him. He was right, though.
Later he came back to tell me that Antonio Banderas had brought Tony Blair to Málaga to see the Semana Santa processions, and that they'd stayed at the Hotel Larios, which has a great view of the processions. I told him that I'd seen, if not Antonio himself, at least his window, when I was there in 2012.
The original building has as its core a vast hall of a style suited to a castle or a royal Bavarian hunting lodge. It is now used mostly as a center for institute students to hang out and socialize. There were rooms leading off this hall, and many offices and dorm rooms built later in other parts of the building.
To access my classroom, I went up two short flights and two full flights of stairs. That wasn't bad first thing in the morning, but at the first break (after an hour and a half of class), when I went down into the basement cafeteria for a desperately needed Cappuchino, adding another flight of stairs. Then, of course, back up those three flights.
The upstairs hall was a sort of mezzanine, with a balcony that ran around the vast hall already mentioned. For the second break, unwilling to do the stairs again, I stayed in the upstairs hall, doing my best to interfere with the numerous of my fellow students whose attention was riveted on their electronics. It was kind of funny. I'd go out with my Kindle, ready to relax in the more comfortable chairs, and every single pair of eyes I saw was glued to electronics of some sort.
At times, pushy broad that I am, I'd interrupt and start up a conversation. I talk a lot, which sometimes embarrasses me, but in the Goethe Institute, it seemed to be acceptable. I think it must have been in the upstairs balcony that I met this young Spanish boy who would come up and chat with me occasionally. He was an interesting-looking guy, with wild dark hair and a look of Tony Perkins in "Psycho." He also smelled strongly of garlic.
Somewhere along the line, I'd mentioned that I'd been to Málaga, Spain, for Semana Santa a couple of times. I undoubtedly raved about it, because it was such a great experience. The young Spaniard had been born in Málaga, so he was drawn to me to talk about it.
I told him about taking a picture of an old man and later being puzzled about why I'd taken that particular photo until I listened to my digital recorder and heard him singing the traditional mournful song that's sung during the processions. He tried to tell me that the song was the Saeta, but I was oblivious and didn't at first agree with him. He was right, though.
Later he came back to tell me that Antonio Banderas had brought Tony Blair to Málaga to see the Semana Santa processions, and that they'd stayed at the Hotel Larios, which has a great view of the processions. I told him that I'd seen, if not Antonio himself, at least his window, when I was there in 2012.
Jun 16th, 2014, 09:27 AM
#16
Original Poster
Join Date: May 2003
Posts: 12,820
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
Now on to meals. I ate breakfast and lunch at "La Maison," the incongruously named cafeteria. Actually, the food was okay, except for the occasional misstep, once a memorably bad lunch with two unappetizing choices--white fish with taste-free rice and over-cooked broccoli--and baked cheese with red berry sauce drizzled over it. I chose the baked cheese, but it was so blah that I didn't finish.
There was also a little German-style salad bar with a wide assortments of little salady things--raw vegetables, slivered beets, which added variety. I usually stole a Brötchen at breakfast or lunch so that I could have it for dinner, but after while my conscience bothered me enough that I paid for my previous thefts and afterwards paid for every one I took.
Breakfast was pretty much the same every day. Cereals (I usually chose corn flakes), cheeses, sliced meats like salami, Brötchen and unsalted butter, yogurt, etc. I usually ate with Ron, a 68 year-old former real estate agent, and Osamu, a Japanese from Okinawa who now lived and worked in Switzerland. His German was very good, though he had the usual Japanese trouble with the l. Very interesting guy. He told me a lot about Swiss German (aka Schweizerdeutsch), which being the language nerd I am, I found fascinating.
For a couple weeks, there was another member of the Früstuck's club, Francisco, a New Yorker who'd been born in Puerto Rico. Fun guy. I think he purposely exaggerated the stereotyped characteristics of New Yorkers. He was pretty noisy, even for an American. He was telling us how he thought Germans should hurry up in some situation. He used the words "chop chop" a couple of times to stress that they should move faster.
Once he told me that he'd fallen in with a bad crowd and was going drinking with them that night, but the next day he admitted that he'd only had a couple of beers and that he went home early. I was a little disappointed in the low level of his debauchery. He was only at the institute for two weeks, and I was sorry to see him go. Osamu told me that Francisco was his idea of a typical American.
I wonder if we're really as loud as the stereotypes claim.
Usually, Ron and Osamu left breakfast early, and I talked to Peter, a young Thai. His real name was difficult for non-Thais to pronounce, so he chose Peter as his nom de guerre. He had the most astounding appetite I have ever seen. He just ate and ate and ate. It was one of the reasons I was able to monopolize the conversation with him. He was too busy eating to talk.
Periodically I'd get worried about talking too much, so it was lovely when at the end of the course, he gave me a postcard on which he'd written his thanks for "bringing liveliness to our breakfast time" and some other nice comments.
Peter had said something about seeing the justice building in Göttingen that's really beautiful, and then he mentioned that he was an officer of the court. It turns out that he's already a lawyer. He said Thailand is ruled by martial law, but that it's not so bad--that you get used to it.
I really never did get over being surprised at how young and how accomplished were my fellow students.
There was also a little German-style salad bar with a wide assortments of little salady things--raw vegetables, slivered beets, which added variety. I usually stole a Brötchen at breakfast or lunch so that I could have it for dinner, but after while my conscience bothered me enough that I paid for my previous thefts and afterwards paid for every one I took.
Breakfast was pretty much the same every day. Cereals (I usually chose corn flakes), cheeses, sliced meats like salami, Brötchen and unsalted butter, yogurt, etc. I usually ate with Ron, a 68 year-old former real estate agent, and Osamu, a Japanese from Okinawa who now lived and worked in Switzerland. His German was very good, though he had the usual Japanese trouble with the l. Very interesting guy. He told me a lot about Swiss German (aka Schweizerdeutsch), which being the language nerd I am, I found fascinating.
For a couple weeks, there was another member of the Früstuck's club, Francisco, a New Yorker who'd been born in Puerto Rico. Fun guy. I think he purposely exaggerated the stereotyped characteristics of New Yorkers. He was pretty noisy, even for an American. He was telling us how he thought Germans should hurry up in some situation. He used the words "chop chop" a couple of times to stress that they should move faster.
Once he told me that he'd fallen in with a bad crowd and was going drinking with them that night, but the next day he admitted that he'd only had a couple of beers and that he went home early. I was a little disappointed in the low level of his debauchery. He was only at the institute for two weeks, and I was sorry to see him go. Osamu told me that Francisco was his idea of a typical American.
I wonder if we're really as loud as the stereotypes claim.
Usually, Ron and Osamu left breakfast early, and I talked to Peter, a young Thai. His real name was difficult for non-Thais to pronounce, so he chose Peter as his nom de guerre. He had the most astounding appetite I have ever seen. He just ate and ate and ate. It was one of the reasons I was able to monopolize the conversation with him. He was too busy eating to talk.
Periodically I'd get worried about talking too much, so it was lovely when at the end of the course, he gave me a postcard on which he'd written his thanks for "bringing liveliness to our breakfast time" and some other nice comments.
Peter had said something about seeing the justice building in Göttingen that's really beautiful, and then he mentioned that he was an officer of the court. It turns out that he's already a lawyer. He said Thailand is ruled by martial law, but that it's not so bad--that you get used to it.
I really never did get over being surprised at how young and how accomplished were my fellow students.
