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Before I came to Germany, I joked that by coming here I would get to have my winter during summer. Well, it ends up that I was right. The last week it has been chilly and rainy (but not the summer rain we were getting before), and today it was different. When I woke up, it was cloudy, but not rainy; 11 degrees (~50 F) with an expected high of 15 (~64); and no real jacket since mine ripped in Amsterdam. So, I did something I really didn’t want to do…
I wore my big ol’ UA hoodie. Mike had made fun of it, and joked how I wore it to the carnival. Christoph & Christian told me that this is what they think of as stereotypical, US college clothing – and it definitely is… you know, especially when that hoodie is red, white and blue. LOL.
But it was great today, because it was chilly out, but not raining – perfect weather for a walk. So I strolled to the lab and worked. All day. It was great. I plated more single seeds. I prepared a ton of slides from my Alternaria assays with different staining, which was difficult, because I am totally not used to preparing full size leaves. So great! And in little ten minute gaps between two hour marathon slide sessions I got to blog!
And then there was a BBQ potluck, where we all brought our own meat, but Jorge paid for the two crates of beer (about 24 bottles each), and one crate of bionade (fruit juice and alcohol in a bottle). Tasty
Oh, and I was dinked on a bike . I know, it sounds bad, huh? But just a few days after I learned in Amsterdam that ‘dinking’ is riding double on the back of a bike where the rear rack is, I caught a ride this way back from the ZMDP with Anna. So instead of walking for 30 minutes, or waiting for the bus to take me back way, she offered me a ride on the back. It was terrifying, and fun, with us laughing and giggling half the way as we talked. And fast!
Dinking!
Random German Fact of the Day:
Clothing with university logos on them is super uncommon here. Not only are hoodies like ours not worn, but if they are found, the emblem is much smaller. AKA, I stuck out big time today – but at least I was warm.
For the my second time in Europe, the phrase ‘when I get home’ has been replaced with ‘if I get home.’
Having learned from my experience in Zurich, I opted to not take the last train home, and instead planned on arriving in Tübingen by 9. So, I left Amsterdam with a group of hilarious gay German men bound for Köln. And when they got off, I was still in my in-and-out of train sleep, and there were three sets open by me. So, a girl – younger than me, but not young – asked, ‘German, German I don’t understand frei?’ And I shook my head, then, woke up, realized that she had asked if the chairs were free (frei), and I went, ‘ya, frei, sorry, entschooldigoong’, and her, her sister and brother joined me.
So, the train is going along when it stops. This, just to let you know, is never a good sign, because it often is the first sign of a long delay. It stayed stopped. I checked my ticket from Frankfurt to Stuttgart, and yup, I only had 8 minutes to get from platform 12 to 4. A little tight on its own, but not nearly impossible. But, I could feel a delay coming. So, the conductor comes on over the com system, in German first. And I manage to understand enough to know that 1. There is a delay and 2. That delay is for 15 minutes, minimum. I say, ‘Shit’ under my breath, and the girl says in perfect English, ‘So, I’m guessing you’re on the train to Stuttgart as well.’ I laughed, and said yes, and made small talk tinged with a little nervousness of having to deal with finding a new connection home.
The train started up again, and picked up speed. Here and there we commented to each other, about what we were doing here, where we were going, and where we were from, all of it starting with the main message of, are we going to make our train, and if not, what are we going to catch home. The train sped up, and was going fast even for an ICE. As we got closer to Frankfurt Flug (the stop before ours), the conductor came on again – 7 minutes late – just enough for us to miss our train. But we kept on hoping – maybe, just maybe we could make up more time. My original ticket that I switched this one for had me leaving Frankfurt Flug 1.5 hours from then, but as I told the girl, I was going to follow their lead. Then, as we left Flug, we got an announcement – we were still going to be that late, but the conductor for the train from Frankfurt Main to Stuttgart was going to wait at least a little, and make up the time (btw, the details of how much he would wait were not announced in English, so these 3 kids were saving my ass).
We put away our things, walked to the door, and got ready. And when those doors opened at Frankfurt Main we were out of there like bats out of hell. I started off holding my duffle in my hands, but quickly switched to carrying it in front of me like a woman running with her child (a large, lumpy child), as the other girl rolled,- and occasionally lifted and dragged – a suitcase for the three of them. Barreling down the tunnel, up the stairs. In!
And then we waited another 5 minutes before it left, LOL. But we made it – and even though I had a seat reservation, I wanted to hang with them some more. So we bummed it, sitting down in the hallways to the WC, passing around the various snacks we had, and just talking.
It was great. And they knew Spanish – in fact, they had lived in Mexico for three years. We joked about Spaniards, and they asked how I loved Germany and Germans (love ‘em – they are so kind and helpful), etc. And once we arrived in Stuttgart, it ended up that my train to Tübingen was the connection to where they were going. So, one more ride together (standing this time, hahaa) and then I said thank you, have a safe trip, and goodbye.
The funny thing is, I have no clue what any of there names are. I know where they have lived, where they have traveled, that their parents are divorced, all these things and we spent a stressful train ride + spring together. But I don’t know their names, and they don’t mine. That’s pretty cool.
So, I know what you’re thinking, and here’s the answer.
Did I do it? yes.
Really? yup.
Glad? Hell yes, you really only get to be in Amsterdam once.
The great thing about being in Germany is the amazing flexibility you have to travel. The downside – it may take six hours. Six hours to turn get to a new country, with a new language, and live it up. This weekend, it was Amsterdam, in the Netherlands with a late Friday night arrival, a full day of walking/running from place to place in the rain, and an afternoon departure on Sunday.
I’ll take care of the not so great part first, and then move on to the great. So, the one downside, sadly, was the guy I Couch Surfed with. It started out well: he picked me up at the station, insisted on carrying my bags, pointed out attractions as we rode the tram, and then we hung out with his friends in a pub in de Pijp (pronounced de pipe, LOL). We all had a great time, some good conversation, and I discovered that Heineken is only slightly better at the source. But, I’ll be honest, I have a big bias for German beers now. Anyways, as we walked home, it started raining. And he put his arm around me, which I shrugged off. This type of crap continued through my stay, along with attempting to do the romantic peer-into-the-eyes in a creepy way. So, both nights, I pretty much slept on guard the entire night (there were no hostels left in the city)- and with all my shit packed just in case. He was also clingy and wanted to spend the entire stay with me, and called a few times while I was with Kyle & Melissa on my own for a while.
While I will definitely couch surf on my own again, and will with Kelly when we visit Berlin this weekend, but next time, I will trust my gut. I ignored that feeling because the monitoring on the site is set up so that people wouldn’t risk doing something because they would be caught, and the system checks in on how things went, and negative ratings cannot be deleted, I was still uncomfortable. When the last e-mails I got before I left were highly flirty – I should have gone to the hostel the first night. I’m pretty good at the feeling-people thing, but I shrugged it off as me being well, me, and just freaking. And I shouldn’t have, because you don’t just risk something like that.
But back to the fun.
Our first search was for the Red Light District. We went up and down our map, and couldn’t find it (“It should be right here! Like, all of this!”). So we doubled back down a street, following a family of four on bikes, keeping our eyes open. And then, well, we realized that we actually had been in the District the entire time. Seems like they were chilling a little more inside, but when we passed this time, there were more people out, so they were in the doorways. And then we started looking around more, and, Ta-Da! There were the windows, with women of all kinds (most not that skinny, interestingly enough). A lot of the windows were empty, but we definitely had our experience.
As for the rest of it, it was a really good time. It rained the entire time, but that was fun.
Because the first time it really started to pour, we had been inside for all of 5 minutes at this one coffee shop, decided it was a little sketch, came out and the sky was falling. So we spent the rest of the day, hopping from covering to covering and eventually spent some time in a coffee shop. Which was not only fun in the obvious way, but it was so nice to get out of the rain and have some time to dry off. After that, we wandered, checked out the flower market (I wish we could import flora). And then, it was back to Giorgio – although luckily for most of the afternoon/evening, his friend Eddie (who was from London and awesome) hung out with us.
The brightside about couchsurfing though, is that I really got to see little nooks about the city, the oldest pub and house in town, a massive chess match,
had the best rated fries in the Netherlands, went to the Van Gogh Museum, saw some sun on Sunday (ha!) and tried some raw herring (tasty!). But I wouldn’t stay with Giorgio again.
OH, and I had some really good cookies – Stroopwaffles. yum.
6.02.08
Zurich was amazing. But thank God it’s over – specifically, thank God I’m back in Tübingen, and that I was back in time for work. You know you’re interested now.
After the beauty of the tour and the shops on Saturday. After my first night in a hostel. After wandering the city, absorbing art in museums and buying chocolates in shops in the mall under the Hauptbahnhof. After all that, there was the train trip home.
Now, when I went to Stuttgart, I had two train connections. On my initial plans for my trip to Zurich, I was set to leave at 10pm, arrive at 4am with 3 connections. My trip back had 4 connections. So, I the first two went off without a hitch. But on the third one, I didn’t realize my train (a Swiss one) was arriving late, because, oh yeah, I don’t speak fucking German, and could not hear the announcement. I should have had 5 minutes to get over to the next platform. So, I got in line to get off (instead of being in front), walked quickly (when I should have ran), and got to the platform. There was a train down the tracks, but I figured it was another one. About 5 minutes later I began to strongly doubt this.
So I approached the night guy on – and he said, that indeed, that was my train, and I had missed it. So I asked – in voice-shaking German – if there was another train. He checked. Nope. I asked if there was one with any connections to Tübingen. Nope. Enter complete and total terror on my behalf – and a concurrent switch to speaking English – forget even attempting German. So he helps me book the first train out in the morning (5:51) which gets me to Tübingen at 8am – just enough time to run from the bahnhof to my flat, change, and catch a bus to work.
Now, where to stay, I wondered? Is there a hostel in town? Nope. A hotel? Yes, one. So he pointed me in the right direction – ‘down the street, it’ll be on your right after you pass a few lights’ and warned me €59.99 a night.
So, I get to the hotel, get a room (the woman at the desk was AMAZINGLY kind) and spent the night unable to sleep due to the fear of missing another train. But it all worked out. Hectically, intensely, but it all worked out.
What did I learn about train travel this weekend?:
Don’t book overnight trains – the stress and lack of sleep will make the city you are visiting (especially if only for a weekend) less enjoyable – if you can stay awake for it.
Swiss trains run late. German ones don’t. Run to your platform either way.
When booking a train, make sure you aren’t taking the last connection home.
