Counting Down to Change

My time is wearing thin; I'm not saying that I'm starting to feel wrinkly, but rather as if I've hit a wrinkle in time. I just purchased my return ticket, one-way, to the United States of America. I'd like to say that I am “headed home” in July, but that words tastes funny on my now tri-lingual tongue. My father is living in a new house, my mother is about to move into her new house, I will return to a new apartment and my brother will probably not even be in the same country next year. What does this mean? To attempt an explanation: home is beginning to take on a German accent.

I have now hit my 13 month mark of living in Germany and thus the ideas of home are naturally starting to reverse themselves. Now, the countdown begins. 43 days. The sheer amount of accumulated material possessions is starting to weigh me down kilo by airline approved kilo. The stretched distance of the Atlantic ocean that will stand between my love and I seems to lose every echo I curse at it. I have stacks of maps, postcards, and brochures filed as neatly as a haystack might be. My poor hard-drive is overloaded with smiling photos and my suitcase is giving me a sneer rather than the usual wink. What is happening here? 43 days.

Challenge becomes my comfort zone
(Groningen, the Netherlands)

No exaggeration, I am sitting in my warm kitchen with the rain tapping the window and a glass of Rot Wein (red wine) beside my computer while the smells of fresh herbs wafting from my window garden are teasing my senses as I write this. Today, I chatted with my roommate in German, invented a new dish, had a fresh pretzel from the baker by school and received my daily nod and wave from the silent man who lives above his shoemaker shop on the corner. I feel as if my cup is not only full but brimming with happiness and opportunity. Though the US is often nicknamed the “Land of Opportunity,” I feel as if my heart is calling me to dwell on different shores.

The sun sets over the snowy gardens
during Christmastime in Oldenburg, Germany

Admittedly, my parents' reactions to this realization are not what I expected; they seem to look forward to the European trips they can now justify but are fairly quiet as to their own emotions about me being so far away. Perhaps they realized a long time ago that I had a different calling. Perhaps they're keeping their true emotions to themselves in order to let me be individually inspired and jump out of the proverbial nest as far as my international wings will carry me. I must admit that I fear being so far away from them, being so far removed from familial relations, holidays and laughter. This life is most definitely not what I had expected, but it fills me with excitement everyday that my eyes settle on a German sunset (sunrises are often missed by my sleeping-in eyes).

Alas, this journey I've chosen shall not be an easy one. Two final semesters in the US will mark the greatest decision-making time that my 23 years of life will have seen. 43 days.

Finding peace in Freiberg am Neckar, Germany

 

The Corners and the Cornerstones

After a long day of tidying my apartment, hanging sheets, watching children, and exam preparation, I am finally sitting in my favorite spot: the corner of my bed atop a pile of pillows. The window is opened just wide enough to share the sounds of the night outside while offering me a taste of spring air. It's the end of January and the rain storms have been marching through Cologne all week, but that is no sure sign that winter has been fought off for very long. I am savoring the air, however, because that momentary ambiance of spring brings joy to my senses and my fingers as they write.

Just after midnight!
(Oldenburg, Germany)

January was quite eventful I suppose, looking back. Bjoern and I celebrated our first New Year's Eve together alongside 25 other friends in Oldenburg, Germany. We shot off our own fireworks, despite my personal aversion to the idea, and kissed all the way through the midnight minute as the city around us sparkled and cheered. Since Christmas, the necklace he gave me has not come off my neck; there is a silver airplane charm dangling and constantly reminding me of both my wanderlust and the words he whispered, "the airplane keeps us together and kept us apart." Those machines might make me shaky at takeoff but they connect me to my future, my love, my joys in life; I can never take that for granted!

My birthday dinner from left to right:
Rita, Charlene, Bjoern, Me, Katrin, Ornella, Marta, Sayra, Juan

On January 9^th, I celebrated my 22^nd birthday in Cologne. I invited over several of my closest friends from my time here so far, cooked them my favorite dinner of fettuccine Alfredo and a salad with homemade Ranch dressing from the seasonings sent with love from my mother back home. It was a wonderful time as I chatted with friends from Germany, Mexico, Russia, France, and Poland; opened presents from their own home countries; ate traditional, American recipes; and reveled in the recognition of how truly intercultural my community has become. We danced the night away in a local place near Zulpicher Platz and, sometime at the end of the night, Bjoern took me in his arms, kissed me fondly, and announced: “I am going to kiss you on your birthday for your next 80 birthdays, starting today.”

Tulips, croissants and fresh orange juice.
Welcome to Amsterdam

After a brief visit to me in Cologne, my darling Irish friend Emma and I left on January 17^th for Amsterdam aboard the luxury bullet trains called the ICE (Inter-City Express). We remained in Amsterdam for 4 days and had an absolutely grand time of things, further details of this trip will be provided in a location bio later on. While alone aboard a regional train to explore some traditional windmills, I helped two exchange students find their way and we ended up spending the next few hours together eating mustard soup, tasting cheese, walking across frozen canals and chatting about our own cultures and experiences abroad. Chi and Tony, from Taiwan and Spain respectively, shared with me about their current program in the Netherlands and how they are teaching languages while focusing on international studies. I am constantly left in awe of the people in my surroundings; not a dull moment exists once you open your eyes and introduce yourself to someone new.

Currently, final examinations at the Fachhochschule are dominating both my schedule and mental capacity. At the same time, though, I am somehow finding time to write letters; file my taxes; conduct research for my internship; indulge in a bit of painting; coordinate rent agreements for next year; read Rich Dad, Poor Dad; research the stock market and add some new investments to my portfolio. I suppose there is never a moment when I don't have an idea or something to do, but I don't feel overwhelmed in the least. On the contrary, I feel finally able to open up, relax and embrace the opportunities that lie around every corner. Trust me, Europe and Cologne alone have quite a few corners. What will I find next?

Meeting the Family: An Outsider's Way In

Decorating the Christmas Tree: Success
(Oldenburg, Germany)

After spending six months in the wonderful land of Germany, I can hardly say that I was prepared, nay equipped, for the Christmas holiday with my German boyfriend's family. Two months of German language lessons twice a week left me struggling to follow the quips, sarcasm and overall flow of conversation that came as soon as the car door opened in Siegen en route to Oldenburg. I felt ready to rip my ear off, dip it in a good beer and toss it to my new "German Family" in hopes that somehow I wouldn't be lost in translation any longer. Many mistaken der, die, and das in between hearty meat, good cake and Christmas beverages later, we were all laughing over a game of billiards (during which I reportedly had become the "profi" professional). Perhaps communication lines are eased when a bit of healthy competition, fun and good beer are thrown into the mix.

When it came to Fooseball (called Kicker in German), my boyfriend would apparently much prefer to work up a sweat and crack the table in half than lose. However, even table soccer needs cheerleaders, so I contributed with some jolly and mispronounced "ja Woll!" "gut gemacht" and "toller Schuss!" (Yes sir, well done and nice shot!)

In Germany: respect the process and theme of
decorating the tree and you just might survive!

It is very important to note, however, that there is a sort of mathematical curve in terms of German language abilities and beer consumption. These two are generally directly related and, as beer levels increase, so do speaking capabilities. This goes for billiards skill in relation to consumption as well. Unfortunately, as goes for the optimum tariff we've been studying in International Economics here in Cologne, there is a maximum level of benefit. After that level (of tariff % or drink consumption) the curve shoots you back to either trade decline or missed shots and misunderstandings. Let's just say that I properly performed my research and graphed this curve unwittingly and much to my own embarrassment. Fortunately, the whole experience became a good laugh for all, we lost at billiards, I made up my own version of what I thought was Deutsch and I was dubbed the "Sweet Girl" for the duration of my stay.  I must say that I'm relieved that that was the name I received after all the hullabaloo, but that might be because I never caught word of any other granted titles.

Though I may have caught my own hair on fire from the candles on the Christmas Tree (O' Tannenbaum!), eaten a pile of pink termed "Heringsalat," and crashed my bike into a

One of the nightly spreads on the dinner table!
(Pork filet wrapped with prosciutto in a cognac-cream sauce
accompanied by baked hash browns and creamed veggies.)

 lamp post amidst the frenzy of dozens of hurried, Christmas-shopping bikers, I learned to adore his German family with their traditions, present opening schedules, and especially palate in terms of what is to follow the hearty call of "GUTEN APPETIT!"