The Key to a Home

Synopsis

My name was Edward Carter, and I was a freshman in Sterkenland. Before I came to Sterkenland, I thought my Sterkisch was decent. I had scored high on my high-school Sterkisch exams, and I had also passed the language proficiency test with excellent results. I believed I would at least be fine with everyday communication. It was only after I arrived that I realized I had been wrong. I had been terribly wrong. Sterkenlanders spoke nothing like the crisp, well-enunciated announcers from my listening tests. They talked fast, slurred their words, and threw in all sorts of slang I'd never heard before. And as for me, whenever I got nervous, my tongue would twist itself into knots, and the Sterkisch I blurted out was so messed up that even I couldn't make sense of it. I had already gotten into quite a few embarrassing mishaps in the three months since I had come to Sterkenland. The most classic one was at a coffee shop. I meant to say "latte," but my tongue slipped and I said "lady" instead. The barista, a guy in his mid-forties, stared at me for a solid minute. I swear he was about to call the cops. Another time, I was buying chicken breast at the supermarket. I asked the clerk for chicken breast, but I mixed up the words and said breakfast instead. Looking thoroughly confused, the clerk pointed me toward an entire shelf of breakfast cereals. After that, I tried to speak as little as possible. I relied on body language whenever I could. I nodded or shook my head rather than opening my mouth. I didn't look like a local anyway. For all they knew, I might have been mute. December in Sterkenland was unbearably cold. It got dark early. By four in the afternoon, it felt like eight at night back home. Winds blew in off the river, carrying damp chill that seeped straight into my bones. That day, there was some traditional festival going on in Norenberg. I wasn't sure what it was, but my roommate insisted I come along, saying, "You've gotta experience the local culture since you're in Sterkenland." I bundled myself up like a walking marshmallow: a fleece hoodie underneath, a heavy puffer jacket over that, and a scarf wrapped around my neck until only my eyes were showing. Even so, I still feel cold.