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I don’t think I can really count this as a travel trip. I hardly walked around Bethesda, and only spent about an hour around the NIH campus, but it reminded me of what I missed – the not knowing.
Getting off a bus, train, or plane in this case and wondering where to go. How to get to wherever it is you need to go. I want to feel it again, but for real. I want to step off in some place I’ve never been and just go again. Wander from site to site. Through alleys. In and out of restaurants. All of it starts so simply though, with a phrase.
Welcome to _______.
Those words make my heart pound like I’m flirting, like I’m on a first date. That feeling what I want right now.
While I used to not be a fan of new year’s resolutions – all talk, no act – last year’s worked out pretty well. So, here I go:
- Get back into the shape I was in last May, before I left for Germany and was surrounded by wurst and kartoffel.
- Start making my own lunch to take to campus. Must save $.
- Take off to somewhere this summer.
- Take better care of my cuticles and nails. Fo. Ev. A.
- Keep in touch with the people I met in Germany, my friends who have graduated and those that will.
- Run a 5k.
Because I wanted to join the crowd (Lindsay & Ashley), and because 2008 was kind of big.
1. What did you do in 2008 that you’d never done before?
Went to Europe, had two jobs (and will have them next year), Lost two jobs, dated three guys, worked during winter break.
2. Did you keep your new years’ resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
Although I am usually against them, I did last year (and will this year). I think I kept them, but the “Child on plane ruins laptop incident of ‘08″ made me lose the list. Oh, wait – does it count if I kept one half the year? Because I was really healthy, went to Germany, and well…
3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
My godsister.
4. Did anyone close to you die?
Thankfully, no. Although some came close.
5. What countries did you visit?
Germany, Switzerland, France, The Netherland, Spain and Mexico (I don’t know if that counts for me).
6. What would you like to have in 2009 that you lacked in 2008?
A job at the NIH. My B.S. A cute, heavy coat to wear in Bethesda Maryland.
7. What date from 2008 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
May 22. The day I left the US for exactly 90 days (Ha! Fooled you, Visa requirements).
8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
Backpacking through Spain alone and not killing two of my 422 students.
9. What was your biggest failure?
Physics II, because I didn’t get an A, but devoted enough time to it that I was stressed and did not get to see the people I cared about more. And not calling Fernando.
Okay – the title is a bit dramatic. But I swear, it really fits.
Before going to Germany, and when I began traveling, I was afraid. Walking to my car alone at night. Even the occasional walk home through Sam Hughes. I was always smart/prepared – kept my eyes and ears open, kept something ready to defend myself. But I wasn’t just ready, I always a litte scared – not quite jumpy, but not normal.
But in Germany, I got used to walking home at night – sometimes for 30 minutes, sometimes in the rain, and often up the Hohe Steige – the long stairs with sparse lights that I jokingly dubbed ‘rape alley’ – without beign afraid. I was still ready, the way I would be her, but I was comfortable. Not that I’m saying this was immediate – it definitely took some time to get used to. But I think the big turn around was when Christoph asked me, “Why are you so afraid?” And I didn’t know.
Because when you think about the statistics we see on the news here in Tucson, they may not be great, but they’re not bad. And when it comes to most of the crimes I feared, it’s a chance thing. I’m not really in the situation to be involved in a piss-people-off, crime of passion situation. The crimes that make me hold my keys like a dagger are the wrong-place at the wrong-time type. So yeah, they could happen to me. But chances are they will not. And if they did, I would still be prepared. I still carry my keys the way I did, and don’t listen to my iPod so I know what’s going on.
But I am not afraid. Which is nice.
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.
So tomorrow, I get to do my first couch surf -solo.
I first heard about the Couch Surfing Project from Kelly, at our BRAVO! orientation after getting chastised by Carol that we are there for research, not Euro-trippin when I talked about Kayak.com. She and her roommates had hosted a few people, and that was how she was planning on getting around. The way is works is that you sign-up, create a profile, and basically crash at other people’s places. Out of the kindness, understanding, and plenty of trust you stay with them. But it’s not like a free hostel, it’s better, because you get to meet people from that city, who live there, and want not just to help you, but for the most part share what they love with you.
Well, I completely forgot about it when I went to Zurich, and it wasn’t until we decided to go to Zurich together and she got us a couch that I remembered it. So, I decided to look for a couch in Amsterdam, but reserved a hostel just in case. What I did not realize – although it seems quite obvious now – is that Amsterdam is super in demand for surfing = you should reserve in advance. I started looking last week, and after two sorries (already taken), and a couple of no replies, I heard back from Giorgio. Italian guy, cute, works in Amsterdam, and super-well referenced with no negative, and positives from Amsterdam core ambassadors.
While I am a little anxious about it, if there was someone to surf with, this guy would be high on the list. Cautious, nervous me would have preferred a girl, this guy seems great. I was assuming that I would catch a tram to his flat, but he volunteered to pick me up at Central Station (also nice to meet in a public place), and then we’re meeting up with some of his friends.
I’m bringing some Chili Covered Mangoes as a thank you, and hopefully I’ll get to cook for him also.
Amsterdam, here I come!
The beginning and end of my trip felt like the board at a train station (or airport). My mom arrived at 13:55, and although I left in a cab a while earlier, I left her in Paris at 17:24.
The trip was great, and I loved showing my mom and aunt the city and country I have come to love. It is different, in small but significant ways.
At the same time, when they arrived, it was like an intrusion on my world. And while I felt that feeling coming, when I first met my mom, I had felt it to a lesser degree when Mike came. This place, this experience, my life here had really been mine, and only mine. And I was selfish. I didn’t want to share it, and honestly it’s changed me. Not just my approach to research, not just the way I want to change my dress. But me. Those little, subtle things that make a person the person you know. I’m free here, completely. The expectations people have are fresh, no baggage.
I noticed when Mike came, that certain things I had let go (notably, the cussing) came back. I became who I was. I don’t want to be that. I like who I’ve become, I like the way I live my life here, and I hope to bring much of it back. And as much as that’s true, I don’t want her to know that, to have this feeling that she’s missed. But that’s life – I’m my own person now, and one of the greatest things about this is that it will help her allow me (and let me allow myself) to really – as cheesy as it sounds – become an adult.
So, she was right, the first comment I made after ‘I love you, how are you,’ when I saw her was something along the lines of ‘your purse is too high, you look like a tourist’ was wrong. I was mean, I was childish. But as soon as I said it, I was sorry. She thought I said it because I was embarrassed by her, and it was tough to get through to her that that wasn’t it. Although my mom is the one that taught me to see the many sides of a story, when I act this way to her, it’s just over. Unless I talk, unless I explain, and unless I outright ask her if she understands where I’m coming from and forgives me, she just shuts down. She won’t talk to me, and at most, just says, ‘ok.’ And I think I’ve finally learned to actually do this, even if I have to do the reaching out – and I’m glad, because the rest of the trip went quite well.
We ate great food, we saw amazing things for the first time – together. She got to experience the public transportation, amazing bier & brezels, and cleanliness I’ve had for the last two months.
I think we both know that I arrived and will leave a different person. I just hope I can hold on to that. And I hope that even though it was only a week, she will experience the same.
But with real Black Forest… and perhaps more importantly, Black Forest Cake (Schwarzwälder Kirschtorte). The cake was really great, and I cannot wait to visit the Black Forest again just to another version of it. Unlike the US version, the layers of cake and the cherries are soaked in cherry liquor, and the frosting itself contains it. Tasty! Authentic! Needed more cherries!
The Black Forest was beautiful, but at least in this part, beautiful like any forest. Not like I had imagined. I had always thought of the Black Forest as this very dense woods, like in the movies – or like in the Disney’s ‘The Sword & the Stone’. And yes, I realize that this takes place in England, and that it is indeed a cartoon. And that I really want to see it now. But I digress. The trees weren’t quite as tall and it was not as dark I thought it would be, and it almost felt like I could be in California. It was the same situation as the waterfalls – while they were beautiful, and worth the €2, I have to admit I found myself thinking about Yosemite.
But the hike was great, and we were fortunate enough that the weather was perfect, cool – but not at all necessary to break out a jacket. Now that I’m traveling with Mike I realize how much better it is to travel with someone -We joked a lot, covered each other as we took (or attempted to) take pictures of heinous things, and yes, posed/joked in front of confessionals at the Maria en der Tanner when everyone left. It was a great time. It may have also been blasphemy. oops. I also loved our tag-team picture taking of a goth girl at the station in Triberg. Classic, especially with the old lady next to her. And we both missed the opportunity to get a shot of this bicyclist in a full on jumpsuit – that was better.
It is also great to get to know him as more of a co-worker than a boss. It’ll be interesting to see how that works when I get back, and because I’ll be living with another grad student. And that I’ll be able to go out to drink!
Overall, it was nice to take a trip away from Tübingen and get some more of the German outdoors experience, which is also really nice here in the Schönbuch forest. Also great is that I learned about these tickets that DeutscheBahn offers for any Bundesland (state). You can travel almost anywhere in that state, all day for €18 for one person and €28 for up to five people. If I had known about this, I would have skipped the BahnCard – this is usually (although not always) cheaper than my 50% off.
*I added a picture of man capris…. I’m still searching for a better example.
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.
