Strange Nostalgia

I was riding the bus today, as I do every day, but I found that the closer my departure becomes, the attention I pay to my surroundings. I looked out the back of the bus as it drove up the hill to the Max Planck Institute for Biophysics Chemistry and I was awed by the view. Soft greens and blues layered over one another in the form of the rolling hills that characterize the German countryside. Buildings with red roofs rise and fall with the tide of the land, fading into the greenery as the eye travels away from the center of the city. The sky is overcast, the ground still wet from the rain I slept through this morning, yet I cannot find it in me to think the gray sky depressing. It is the Göttingen I know.

The weather has rocked between chilly days at 12 degrees (Celsius) and burned my skin when it suddenly rocketed into the 20s. Sunny days can turn to violent downpours in the space of a minute, and return to idyllic perfect in the same only 20 minutes later. People travel with umbrellas hidden in backpacks and purses, and when the first drops begin to fall they bloom, like so many flowers in a field. Red, blue, rainbow, zebra print, the whole gamut. It's a funny sight to see. Unless, of course, you're the new comer who has not yet adjusted to the weather patterns and though your now soaked coat would be enough.

I once said that I thought my trip to Europe would consist of evenings spent in small cafes over warm beverages and intellectual conversations about culture and the world. It struck me today that I'd had that experience, though it did not manifest itself in quite as romantic a vision as that in which I had framed it. My cafe was a bakery called Brot und Brotchen which had a glorious sale on fresh baked goods that I could buy with carton of chocolate milk on the way to work. Berliners, butter croissants, rosin schnecken and fresh rolls, all of them cheaply available and magically delicious. My intellectual conversations took place in the office while my officemates and I exchanged opinions about religion, racial tensions, education, continuing education, history and the job market.

The sun is out now, shining on the trees just beyond the window, bringing out the first tinges of yellow that hint at the fall season to come. I could call this bitterweet and talk about the positives and negatives, but instead I will be grateful for the summer I've had and endeavor to make them more glorious from here on out.

The End is on the Horizon

I find that I am more afraid of returning to the United States than I was to come to Germany.  There are new things to think about, new opinions on the world and new friends that I will be returning with to the States. But I also have to go back to everything I have left behind. When I first arrived here I felt incredibly liberated because I could be whoever I wanted to be while I was here. The only things that could follow me across the ocean were those that I allowed to do so. My fears, my obligations, my attachments and my hang ups, everything about me was in America. I could build myself up to be whoever and whatever I wanted.

Now that period of liberation is coming to an end and I see a muddled mess of conflict waiting for me when I return. Here, all I had to worry about was work and my personal cultural experiences. When I return, there are applications for school, applications for graduation, scholarship applications, job applications, courses to take, continuing education decisions to be made, organizations to lead and a whole host of other things I do not even want to begin to consider. There are also my fears, my insecurities and my failures. It is daunting.

There is also the knowledge of what I am leaving. There will be no short bus rides into the town center for a Döner and bubble tea. There will be no more weekend trips to another country, no train rides across a beautiful landscape and no more intern friends with whom I can while away the night hours. Some part of me feels that America will, at first, seem painfully dull in comparison to a country that is nearly saturated in history. It is almost like spending a summer in the company of wise, old scholars only to return and find yourself surrounded by immature teenagers obsessed with the latest fad. This is not to say that the United States is better or worse, but it is a young country.

I did miss some things. I had never before realize what wondrous things water fountains could be, or non-carbonated water for that matter. I am certain that a trip to a restaurant will elicit in me the same amount of awe as a magic show might. Servers who appear out of thin air and are quick and friendly in catering to the needs of a customer, water for free, not to mention the novel concept of refills without cost. The sheer volume of food will surely amaze me as well. Pizzas made to serve a family and not just one. Drinks so big I could never hope to consume it all. And the vegetables! Blessed greenery to break up the ceaseless progression of meat and bread, a thing of beauty that I never thought I would willingly consume.

I will also be leaving this place with more things to consider. Mainly, continuing education. My educational career up to this point had been a matter of course. Elementary, middle, high school and college. That’s how it worked and what I knew I had to do, but beyond that is a great grey cloud of possibilities for happiness, success and failure. The guarantees and obvious courses of actions will soon be a thing of the past. I now enter an era where there is more than one “right” decision.

There is no need for me to get a higher degree as I can find a job, and one that pays well, with an undergraduate degree in engineering alone. From there it would be perfectly possible to climb the ranks and make a good living. I could also obtain a masters degree at the expense of whatever company I choose to work for and again further my chances for advancement and a variety of employment opportunities. Or, I continue the pursuit of my education and obtain a PhD and find a job, or conduct research or teach at a university. Success is frightening because it no longer has a definition and I do not have any particular dreams or passions to guide me on the path into the future, and this summer, if nothing else, has reminded me that the future is approaching, invariably, and I must be ready.

Unexpected Wonders

From Dresden I traveled to Prague and again I was exposed to an entirely new history. The Czech Republic is not a large country and hardly one that would be likely to make it into the history books in a high school in Texas. Americans are sometimes wont to feel that they are the originators and flag bearers for freedom. Such is not the case, as countries like the Czech Republic have fought through religious and political persecution as well as a blatant betrayal by its supposed allies in order to become the country that it is today. The country itself is in many ways only as old as I am. The history and spirit of its people stretches farther back into time, of course.

The adventure did not end in Prague, however. As a student it is often necessary to be fiscally responsible, particularly when you are in a place when assistance cannot be speedily sent. In an effort to save money, a friend and I purchased a ticket that was significantly cheaper than the other ones, but limited us to the slower trains with more connections. Even so, it seemed to be a good idea. Upon closer inspection, however, this ticket would require a trip lasting nearly eleven hours overnight, bringing us back to our hometown at six o’clock in the morning. This is, of course, including a wait from eleven o’clock at night until the next train at four in the morning.

My companion, unwilling to spend more money to buy another ticket that would get us home sooner, elected to try to take the trip herself. Annoyed, but unwilling to let her navigate Germany alone, I agreed to stay with her. I was able to come up with a makeshift plan to stop in a town called Nordhausen and get a room in a hostel. Everything was going to be fine.

Except it wasn’t. When we climbed out of the taxi into the pitch blackness of the night we quickly realized that the receptionists office was closed and the lights in the main building were off. At a suggestion from the taxi driver, we climbed up some steps to a second building farther off. There we found a group enjoying the evening over wine, beer and Pringles. We searched for someone who might work at the youth hostel and found no one. Thanks to the kindness of the people we encountered, one of them yielded his room to us for a night and there we slept.

The next day was spent leisurely. We slept until we were sated, woke and strolled through the town to a café that sat on a hill with an excellent view of the city and the hills beyond. The air was clear and every breath was like cold water. We took our time getting back to the station, taking time to look at a local market, to step into a candy store and another for all sorts of baubles. It was nice and well worth the stress it took to get there.

Daddy's Here

My Dad came to visit and we went through our usual whirlwind of activity, bouncing from Frankfurt to Göttingen to Köln and back to Frankfurt, we've done in three days what most would consider a fairly decent tour of northern (or something) Germany. I've seen a cathedral, a chocolate factory, the Rhine and the Main and even a leather skinned old man with a talent for the accordion.

Something as simple as sharing a delicious döner with my old man has proved as fun as topping out at 126 mph on the autobahn. We've had some fun moments and some pretty tense ones. While I chuckled away, my father nearly sweat out his shirt while maneuvering his rental car through a 40 point turn in the second smallest alley in the history of man (I'm allowing a little room for the fact that I have done zero research) after a fifteen minute search for a parking spot. Later, in the comfort of our not so big hotel room, I discovered the camera we had purchased only a few hours ago was not actually in the box. This time my Dad joined my in a laugh, though he was surely less than amused and I had reached a point where I saw that nothing else could be done.

Even so, I have found the simple act of spending time with a loved one can lighten moments of annoyance and coax the sun out, even from behind the stubborn clouds in Germany.

Traveling to another country is a tremendous opportunity to force yourself to grow up. College provides the same sort of process, but in a much more gradual manner. Freshman year the classes are easier, there are events specifically geared toward helping you adjust to college life, there’s even an entire course dedicated to your transition and development. Sophomore year, the classes are a little harder, you are more involved in different organizations and you’re no longer stumbling around in the college world. By junior year you can be a leader on campus, you’re taking upper level academic courses, making connections in the business world and beginning to work towards your individual future. By senior year, you’re nearly running your life on your own, both making arrangements for what is to follow and taking on the responsibilities that come with being the most experienced class on campus.

When you’re in another country, all of that must happen, but it comes in fits and starts, sometimes gradual and sometimes jarringly sudden and unexpected. No one is there to prod you into finding an apartment, but there is also no one present who would let you sleep on their couch until you do. Getting to work is your affair and you must muddle through a foreign language and a transportation system all together unfamiliar to you. You have to pick up necessary parts of the language and stumble through mumbled orders and silent exchanges of cash for groceries. All this is, of course, expected. The real challenges come with the things that surprise you. The most recent example of this, and the most clear to me, is an experience I recently had.

I have a laptop named Artemis. She is neither sleek and new, nor old and clunky. We have been together since my senior year in high school and have witnessed, together, the ups and downs of college life. There have been a few frightening moments when she decided she didn’t need to turn on when I wanted her to, or when she thought it might be fun to misplace my English paper, but all in all our partnership has been solid and productive. I thought it would continue in that same way, as she had exhibited no signs of fatigue or infection, even when I ran the antivirus and security software that have kept her safe for the last two years.

One night, when in the middle of three rather important conversations on a chat program, the screen flashed, the fan whirred, and I found myself bathed in the horrifying glow of, what is often called in the tech world, a Blue Screen of Death. I have often heard of these occurrences and the misfortune they had brought upon my fellow human beings, but I had been careful to treat my computer like a lady. I thought she would have at least have the decency to fail on me when I was still in America.

I was suddenly faced with the responsibility of fixing a problem which, in itself, is beyond my general means of comprehension, this time with the added obstacle of language barriers and Dell company policy. There was also the small matter of my ever present discomfort with phone conversations. I could do my best to solve the problem myself, or I could succumb to fears and live completely disconnected from the world. There was too much I was responsible for, and too many people I needed to communicate with for be to accept the latter.

In the end, the solution turned out to be much simpler than I had anticipated. A kind colleague helped me navigate the Dell call in process, for which I am entirely grateful, as I would have been able to do nothing more than stare dumbly at the talking box while the automated voice instructed me to press one, two or three. Of course, not all miracles happen in a day and I was forced to yield to the company policy I once thought was in place to help me in times of need. A two week delay would be placed on any help I might receive as I had to apply for an international warranty transfer, which I had been previously instructed I would not need.

Now, I have worked with my boss to find a temporary replacement from the IT department, have taken the necessary steps to have my information transferred and arranged everything with back up plans and options galore. I take a large amount of pride in how I handle the situation. It might just be a computer failure and a phone call to some, but the person I was a few years ago would have given up on the entire process completely and contented herself with writing letters and hoping to find a spare minute on a desktop at work. I have grown since then, and I hope to continue growing every day.

Ah, the Unavoidable Sting of Sucking

This is the second time I've missed a trip and I've come to a few conclusions:

1) If you expect me to be anywhere at 6:30 in the morning, it's not going to happen. Either I will manage to horribly bungle my means of transportation to the meeting point, or I just won't wake up at all. Never mind setting three alarms and laying my clothes out ahead of time. Preparedness means nothing if you only give yourself 3 hours to sleep the night before.

2) Perhaps, it is better not to travel with people. This way, no one is waiting on you and no now you have to wait for, so everyone wins. You explore what you want, avoid what you don't and leave when you feel like it.

3) Every time something like this happens, I can hear my parents voices in my head giving me "advice" (better known to children as scolding) on what to do next time. I can see their disappointed faces, hear learned mantras about timeliness and responsibility echoing again and again in my ears. This is why, after being late, it's best to just go back to sleep.


On an unrelated note: Spiders. Spiders everywhere.

So, about that tea...

I know I said I would have some glorious update for you about Bubble Tea, but I am afraid I must disappoint you. I drank it all and didn't get any more today. I can tell you it is delicitastic (learn that word) and should be done everywhere. I will, however, save it's description for another day.

Today, unlike Bubble Tea, was boring and unspectacular. I did manage to acquire a fantastically soft and comfy blanket that will keep me warm and toasty for the duration of the summer (which, I've decided, is a myth in Europe) and a temporary backpack. The search for the latter was a little more difficult than I had anticipated, as most of the backpacks that a person who actually carries stuff would want cost between 80 and 100 euro. As a student, I am not rolling in anything, money or otherwise, and I decided I would not roll in needlessly expensive backpacks.

There was a moment when I was dangerously close to purchasing a pirate backpack that could carry my laptop if I stretched the fabric and ignored the fact that it was supposed to close. It was also only 12 euro and 95 cents. Who wouldn't want that? I think this is the part where my parents appreciate my friend Zuri acting as the voice of "reason" and convincing me to search elsewhere. Luckily, I stumbled upon an adequately sized bag for only 35 euro, and I bought it. What a deal! I think.

It's weird when you suddenly have to buy real, grown up things on your own. This isn't candy bars and popsicles anymore, kiddies. This is the real stuff. Blankets and junk.

There was an old lady who lived in a shoe...

Okay, so maybe I'm not so old, and it's more of a basement than a shoe. So sue me. The point is, I have a place to live. For some of you, this is a matter of course. Who would go to Europe for three months without knowing exactly where they were going to live?

I would.

I spent the first few weeks in a lovely but expensive guest house at the Max Planck Institute for Biophysical Chemistry. Every day breakfast was provided, my room was cleaned and I had the comfort of a hotel with a 45 second commute to work. It was beautiful. This is, of course, provided we ignore the minor catastrophe that occurred during my first weekend in residence (in my defense, I didn't know that the pen was broken or that it would leave spots all over the carpet, sheets, comforter and headboard) and the small price tag of 750  euro a month. Even so, the time was fast approaching when our gallant heroine would be cast out into the greater unknown, with our without accommodations awaiting her.

So, I did what anyone else would. I found a place to live. It wasn't, of course, until the second to last day of my stay at the guest house that I stumbled upon this apartment, but that's only a minor detail. Behold, in all of its one room apartment glory, my humble abode!

First, the most important part of any young adult's life, the bed. Don't snicker. Let's try to be adults here. I use mine for sleeping and playing on the computer.

Many thanks to our lovely model, Zuri.

Now, a view of the other side, including the foyer, main hallway and living room.

Yes, this is actually just the other side of the same room.
Let me have my dreams.

 If you walk down the "hall" and turn to the left, you will find a lovely and well accommodated kitchen(ette).

That's right, folks. Those are top of the line 80s-tastic
coffee and tea makers. We've even thrown in a chair
to sweeten the deal!

I know that all you homeowners are currently writhing in unquenchable jealousy, but you haven't seen it all yet. That's right, folks. Are you ready for the bathroom? I don't think you are.



How about now? Good.

Admit it. This is the most awesome bathroom you've ever seen. DaVinci is rolling around in his grave wishing he had painted here instead of in the Sistine Chapel. I know. It's hard living this well.

This has been a short tour of the second most awesome place on earth. Stay tuned for more updates from your fabulous host. We look forward to talking to you again soon!

Yes. We.

So, the internet

Some people might think I'm addicted to the internet. I would say that is a perfectly preposterous claim, but when I venture too far from this artery of the world, everyone gets mad. Well, mad might be a bit too strong. People are vaguely disgruntled when i do not respond as quickly as I could.

In America, it seemed as though you couldn't do anywhere without internet. We complain about slow internet, stupid internet, internet explorer (but I repeat myself), but the thought of not having internet at all is a little bit strange.

Not having the internet for two weeks is called vacation. Any longer than that and you find yourself vastly out of touch with the world and everything that is happening. I miss whole trends on facebook and imgur. Social movements rise and fall, public figures embarrass themselves, revolutionary steps are taken all in the blink of an eye, and I just decided to take a nap in the middle of it all. Why would one want to miss all of that?

Because. I don't have internet. Also, the bread museum.

Does this look like greatness?

What about this?

Dang straight, it does. This is what I went to look at today instead of internetting. Sadly, I didn't get to eat any of it. I did get to go to a restaurant where it took an obscenely long amount of time for the server to bring the bill. So obscene that we just left the money on the table and bounced. That's right. Bounced. Hippity hopped right on out of there. We left a tip, though.

This is...

This is the story of a girl, who cried a river and drowned the whole world. Then she took an airboat across the ocean and started a new adventure in a foreign land.

Well, not really. This is going to be a rolling record of my time in the illustrious Germany. A place famous for many things, both good and bad. I must admit, this is, in part, a chance for my family to check up on me so they know I'm all right, but it will also be a creative space that allows me to think and process what I am experiencing, without the academic filter I will be required to use later.

Welcome to the world of a a foreigner in Germanland.