Day 10

How long have I been here? It seems like weeks, the time flies by in the blink of an eye. Not much has happened that is blog-worthy, in my opinion, although there have been some humorous turn-of-events. For instance, coed bathrooms. One would think they had struck comedy gold, there must be some hilarious stories to come of that! Trust me when I tell you I have been doing my very best to avoid funny coed bathroom stories. The whole situation is awkward. Especially the pooping quandary. When is the best, least-populated time to go? My research indicates it is between the hours of 3 and 6 am. I am not sure if it it because of my ninja bathroom skills or pure luck that I have yet to have a face-to-face encounter with another person. Either way, I'm not going to question it. Also, there are no bathrooms here, only "water closets". I swear I'm not making it up, that's what they're called. Just roll with it.

If you ever visit Germany do try to keep an open mind. I was always told Germans would be serious, no-nonsense, and practical. But that is a stereotype. Take, for instance, the the time I went to the pharmacy for cold medicine. It was just a few days before Easter and I saw the pharmacist drop a bright, tie-dye egg in my bag along with my prescription. How sweet! All the way home I wondered what was inside it. A piece of German chocolate maybe? Or some cheap bauble, most likely. After plopping down in my dorm room and taking some cold medicine, I remembered the surprise egg. It was still at the bottom of my bag, and after retrieving it I found... it was just a hardboiled egg. Seriously, Germany? I defended your honor against hurtful stereotypes and this is how you repay me? No chocolate, just lukewarm protein. Words could not describe my disappointment in that moment.

Life is all about perspective, I suppose. Someone malnourished would have appreciated that egg. In any case, I've had to miss a few days of language classes because of this darn cold. For inquiring minds, yes, I did get placed in the lowest language group, along with about fourteen other Japanese people who don't speak English. We learned the alphabet and numbers on the first day, and the teacher apparently decided we were ready for him to speak entirely in German. It's going to be a process.

In the meantime, I am 100% ready for Trier to warm up. Due to the freezing weather, I've had to choose some... unfashionable choices. I won't lie to you, I've been living in my onesie pajamas. At first it was nerve-wracking wondering what others would say if they knew. I wore it only in the privacy of a locked dorm room. But now I'm out and proud. Ridicule all they want, I'm and the warmest and comfiest of them all. And surprisingly enough, everyone has been pretty cool with it. Because I need more enablers for my onesie addiction, obviously. ;)

xoxo

Sprechen Sie Englisch?

Getting settled in has been fairly easy, compared to all that it took to arrive. I've made friends, unpacked, and bought the essentials. Getting around in English is rather awkward, though. I feel like a child who needs something but cannot communicate. I got trapped inside an electronics store--which may sound silly but is actually very harrowing. Luckily I discovered an exit after desperately circling for about fifteen minutes. Those who know me will be laughing at this point, but I refuse to be embarrassed. There are some of us who are born with an internal compass, and those who are not. I am one of the latter. Elevators that only went up and push doors with the word "alarm" among other German warnings on them were everywhere I looked, however. I am grateful to not be that one stupid American who sets off an alarm and puts the store in lock down.

In other news, I have developed a cold. Someone from my floor said it is Germany's way of saying welcome. Really, this is quite unnecessary. Because of this I skipped out on the city tour walk planned for the students today, in exchange for some much needed rest. From what I hear I missed the possibility of frostbite and not much else, thankfully.

Orientation classes start tomorrow, as well as the crash course in German! I am very excited. I have no doubt I will make an A on the Einstufungstest (language placement test). That may or may not stand for A1, the very lowest beginner level of German, but I am happy nonetheless. For the person with the least amount of German lessons here, I think I will be eligible for the title of "Most Improved" considering there is nowhere to go but up. Lucky for me, that placement test only counts for the orientation classes--there will be another placement test in a couple weeks which will place me in the classes for Uni. I hope to test up a level, which means lots and lots of studying! I regret not paying more attention in my German class at ETSU, but I am so much more motivated to learn here as I am surrounded by the language. There is a certain level of courage one has to have in order to speak a foreign language. My accent, pronunciation, and grammar all make me self-conscious, but almost everyone I've met has been very kind.

Except for cafeteria ladies. They are an exception. In her defense, the German language can easily sound angry, but her skunk-inspired hairstyle was very intimidating and did not help the situation. The worst is when you are checking out at the grocery and the cashier starts yelling at you in German and looks at you expectantly. I have so much encouragement to learn the language everywhere I go. On the upside, living here has been the best change to my diet. Being on a budget has cut out almost all junk food and desserts. I buy only the essentials: bread, veggies, fruit, milk, and the occasional chocolate, which one cannot live without, really. For breakfast I eat Muesli, a granola cereal with oats, nuts, and dried fruits. Honestly, after the muffin debacle I am just grateful for every piece of food I eat.

Cheers to not having to worry about starvation! :)

The World is Crazy, Alles Klar?

So much to say. It's the end of day 2, morning of day 3 here in Trier, Germany. My mother called my leaving a "second birth" and I couldn't describe it better. I have already learned so much about the world and myself, and it began even before leaving my home in Tennessee. Did you know I can fit an entire shirt into a shoe? Neither did I, until I starting packing to study abroad.

I'll be the first to admit I'm a fairly idealistic person, and my concern was that my expectations of life abroad would be far too high. In my mind I am a jetsetter, traveling the world in style, talking in new languages with ease, not a care in the world. This ideal is quickly shattered. My expectations are not too high--my experiences so far have actually exceeded them--the fact is that they are flawed. I imagined no obstacles. Just the physical act of coming to Deutschland has been a ride on a 98-year-old, wooden roller coaster with dry rot. It's been filled with regret, fear, and dismay. To begin with, I am leaving home for the first time, to live on my own for the first time, on a continent I am flying to for the first time, speaking a language to natives for the first time, being truly alone for the first time. Of course all hell will break loose. Why did I expect any different? The best things in life do not come easy.

To begin with, my nine hour flight to Amsterdam is delayed for an hour and a half "due to a bathroom smoke detector malfunction". There is no smoke, for Pete's sake, this is obviously a liability issue. What I would give to sign a waiver and continue on time. But, alas, this is not an option, and that delay causes me to miss my next flight to Luxembourg, where I am to meet a fellow exchange student and we are to travel on together. No such luck. So I wait in the airport for a few hours for the next available flight, attempting to call the house master who will meet me at my dorm to let me in and give me the key. No answer. I call my coordinator. No answer. I call the emergency number, and am answered by my coordinator's secretary. I stumble through a few stilted phrases in German, nervously, and accidentally call the lovely lady "Herr" instead of "Frau". Please earth, swallow me now. Luckily she has a sense of humor, and while mildly confused, just laughs and transfers me to my coordinator. He makes the arrangements with my house master, and tells me to call the house master when I arrive in the dorms and he will be there 20 minutes later. As soon as he catches a breath in order to tell me some other vital piece of information, my call disconnects on my end. There is no way to call him back; he must think me terribly rude. To this day I have yet to get the chance to explain.

No worries, I finally get on my plane. The student I am meeting in Luxembourg has already waited for my flight and is disappointed to see I do not arrive--she had no phone, there was no way to warn her of my later date of arrival. I am doing this all on my own. I pick up my luggage in an almost deserted airport, discovering that in transit, the thingy that kept my fifty pound roller suitcase from falling over when stood up has been broken off. Oh joy. I meander through the deserted airport, wondering what the French translation for "exit" or "bus" or "lost homeschooled girl far from home this way" is. I walk through a strange hallway labeled Customs, past people waiting in a line getting their suitcases checked. Do I need to be in that line? I have no clue, so I walk past. No one stops me, they just stare. Very awkward. Finally outside, I find a bus. Buses. New things. I know the wheels go round and round all day long. That is pretty much the extent of my knowledge. The driver is actually very kind to me, and upon discovering that I am an American, speaks fluent English.

I arrive at the train station. What do I know about trains? I stumble my way through finding the building, the right waiting line, and buying a ticket to Trier bus station. Looking at my ticket, I realize my train leaves in ten minutes. My feet sprout wings and I fly, but where? There are no signs! Where is train 6A? It is dumb luck that I run through the right door and into the main station. Following the signs, I come across a long flight up stairs. With my twenty pound backpack, ten pound messenger back, fiftyis pound broken roller suitcase, and one hundred and twenty-five pound self, I know there is no way I am making it up that flight of stairs. Ahoy! A wild cute boy appears, and hauls my broken suitcase up the long flight of stairs with a smile. We are going the same direction, and he helps me up and down several more flights, even going so far as hosting it from the platform to the my train. I feel not so alone, when there are strangers who are willing to help me. I board my train in my time. Thank god for cute boys everywhere.

A woman absorbed in a world of make-believe is startled when I drop my bag into the seat across from her. I offer an apologetic look and try to keep my luggage from crushing any toes. After a thirty minute bus ride during which we exchange pleasantries, I arrive in Trier. I step off the train. Look purposeful, Anna! You totally know where you are going. You will not be a victim of pickpockets or sex traffickers that might guess you have no one who is thinking about you on this continent. My train friend quickly sees through my bravado. She goes out of her way to accompany me to my next bus. She then rides it with me, and the next bus. She pays for my fare when my hands are too full for with baggage to fumble for two euros, and she won't let me repay her. Upon our arrival at Trier bus station, she asks people waiting for the bus where my dorm is and which bus to take. Finally, one girl recognizes it, and in fluent English, explains that bus 5 is the one I need to wait for. My train friend bids me goodbye, now that I am in good hands.

The girl who spoke is named Laura, I learn. She says she will wait with me for my bus. Yet another total stranger, willing to go out of their way to help me. The world is a beautiful place. We have a delightful conversation while standing in the pouring rain. A raincoat would be really great right now. She offers to take me to a nearby shop where I can buy an umbrella. I wholeheartedly agree, since we have missed the first bus I could have boarded and it is twenty minutes until the next. After my much-needed purchase, I ask about a pay phone to call my house master and let him know I am here. She offers her own cell phone, and even provides an invaluable translation service, as my German is conversational at best. We go back in the rain to wait, this time with shelter. Among my apologies and assurances that I can find my way, she replies that she has free time before her plan to meet a friend and waits with me. We discuss the ironic onesie trend, and she informs me that even Germans are not immune to the snuggly goodness of onesie pajamas. She even owns a pair. I confide in her my own dirty little secret--I love them. We laugh and talk about our lives, families, and the little things we find fascinating about life.

My bus arrives and I beg her to let me take her to lunch for helping me. After a number exchange I'm on my way to my dorm. The bus driver doesn't know the address, but knows the general area. He drops me off, and I take in my surroundings. It's pouring rain. I'm jet-lagged, soaked, and luggage seems a thousand times heavier than it started out with. I begin walking in a random direction, running toward anyone I see and asking them for directions. No one knows. Finally I catch up to two cute joggers, who inform me it is the green building in the distance. As sad as I am to see them go, I do so enjoy watching them jog away. I trek towards the building, about to die. I must have walked twenty-six miles already, because this feels like a marathon. The building in question seems dingy from the outside, and is fenced in. The iron gate welded shut. WHY GOD WHY?? I trudge towards the parking lot, when a little car zooms in and a grey-haired man rolls down his window. "Anna? Anna Nolte?" I yell YES a little too enthusiastically. A short, very much Charade-style tour of the facilities later, the German house master enlists the help of a student translator to communicate. My room is not bad. Except that it is not my room. My room is in Tennessee, 'merica. This is a hotel bed; a stranger's bed. I meet a few other students and call it an early night. I nibble on a muffin before bed, wondering what the hell I'm doing here.

My body wakes up at 7 am, screaming GO TIME. I cannot get back to sleep. I'm starving. No supper was provided--each student has their own niche in the kitchen and there is no community food. Looks like no breakfast, either. I am also running low on water on my Camelbak. I'm low on food, water, and registration begins at 10:30. I have no clue how to get out of the building, much less which bus to take. My body is in survival mode. I have shelter, but I have no friends and I have no sustenance. My only hope is the other students. I heard them knocking on each other's doors making plans to go together to registration in the hallway last night. No one knocked on my door. I have never felt more alone in my life. I reread the cards my family packed in my suitcase to fortify myself, particularly one line. "At some point in this journey; whether it be in this moment of months later, you may feel alone. That is a new and strange feeling but let it empower you." I let it replay in my head over and over again, like a soothing symphony. It helps.

It is already 8 am now, and I knock on an acquaintance's door to ask about registration plans. She doesn't answer, so I write a note and slide it under her door. I try and sleep. Two hours later and there have been many doors opening and closing. She seemed friendly, but maybe she hated me and has left already. Registration starts soon. I fidget and another thirty minutes pass by. What am I doing here? I'm so hungry. I eat the last of my muffin and water. My supplies are gone. I am in full blown survival mode. A knock on my door shakes me out of it, and it's the girl, finally awakened. She would love for me to come. Several hours later, we have registered and bought food. I am growing to like the two girls I have talked to. We bond over getting completely lost on buses together. We can laugh together about things, and even though their German is far more advanced, they don't mind my questions. They encourage me to talk as much as possible in my limited German. A second semester German student shows us around the market, and we all make dinner together--a delicious stew thing of his own devise--while bopping to his favorite band, the Red Hot Chili Peppers. We all get along splendidly, and I pick up a few more German phrases while enjoying the sense of camaraderie and community we share. After helping clean up, I unlock my door and slip under my covers into my bed. This is my home. I don't expect things to be easy. But anything worth doing never is. Goodnight, world.