Back in the U.S.

So the trip to Frankfurt to check into the hotel went well. My suitcases were heavier than I thought I could handle, but it worked out just fine in the end. When I checked into the hotel behind a score of tourists from the USA and Asia who spoke marginal English and no German, the lady behind the counter looked like she could die of relief when I spoke German with her. "Can I get your name for the room?" she asked.

"Linden," I replied.

"Oh, a German name." she winked.

Left the hotel the next morning at 5am and made the mistake of taking a taxi to the airport to save my sanity (goodbye 34 euro). I would have missed my flight due to the long security lines if it hadn't been for one airport employee who escorted me right to the front of the line and forced the woman at the counter to check me in. Then, my suitcase weighed over 35 kilo, but the counter lady didn't say anything. No one made one peep about me carrying on my guitar the entire time, either. Either they raised the weight limit on baggage or this was my very, very lucky day.

I landed yesterday evening after what is quite possibly the longest flight I think I've ever experienced. It was like slowly dying at 40,000 feet for 11 hours. I only watched one movie, "Syriana" which I had seen before but not in English, so I thought maybe if I watched it again in my native language it might make more sense .... yeah, it didn't. The rest of the movies sucked so I didn't even bother.

Got home, and the family had invited our good family friends Meg & Scott over for a welcome-home bbq. So that was awesome. I also discovered that Heineken is definitely a good beer that will satisfy my beer needs while in this country, which is a huge relief. Oh and I showed everyone my totally awesome trick that I learned in Germany, whereby I can open a beer bottle using nothing but ... another beer bottle! It's life-changing, seriously, ask me so show you sometime and be amazed.

I made it until about 9:30pm and then I was pretty much comatose (since I'd been up since 4am the previous day and hadn't slept on the plane). After sleeping for what seemed like a century I woke up and thought it most be at least 10am. Came downstairs and no, it's 6:30 am. And I am totally rested. Gotta love that Stateside jetlag.

Anyway so here I am, back in the States. I keep forgetting I still have to write a paper (ugh). I also need to go and get a new cell phone today (holy crap, it's SUNDAY and I can actually go and DO SOMETHING because the stores are open!!) and get my hair cut.

So that's it. Back in the States. It seems like such a non-event now. If I could sum it up in one word it would just be: Meh. No biggie. I'm just glad the trip is over and that I'm back in Starbucks-land. (Seriously, I really am glad. That is one of the first things on my list today).

And it's so nice and coooooooool here in Seattle. Such a typical Seattle day. Scattered clouds and maybe low 70s. Lovin' it after that heat wave.

P.S. I put a load of laundry in about 20 minutes ago and just now remembered that...oh yeah...IT'S DONE WASHING! It doesn't take 2 hours or a stupid laundry coin anymore! I never bought the argument that German washers are better because they wash things horizontally and for way longer than is necessary. I'll concede that the front-loading style probably gets the soap/water around better, but I'm sorry, it does NOT take 2 frickin hours to clean a garmet. I'll take my 20-minute American-style wash cycle any day. Oh man, it was SO satisfying to put things in a DRYER again. Mmmmmm laundry.

"To Leave is to Die a Little"

I finally understand this statement. I think that it wouldn’t really matter whether I was leaving Saturday or Tuesday – no matter whether I leave sooner or later, I would have to deal with the incredible, sudden rush of emotion that I am experiencing right now.

I want to go home. I do. I want to be back in the United States, back in my native country, with my native language, my native culture, and everything that goes along with that. I’ve always been a wanderer. I’ve never been happy in one place for too long. But the biggest lesson that I have learned this year is that at some point, you have to recognize your roots. You have to come to an understanding of who you are, why you are the way you are, and you have to be okay with it. I used to want to be “Germanized,” used to glorify the German language and culture, placing it above my own.

But this year has taught me to fall in love with my American-ness. I have learned what it really means to be an American. I’ve realized how my upbringing in the United States has shaped my attitudes, my beliefs, my values, and everything that I am. Most importantly, I’ve learned to be proud of that and never to place anyone else’s “way of life” above my own only because it’s different. It’s different, and it’s great, but it’s not “mine,” and it never will be. I will always be an American, and that fact will always shape who I am.

I have learned to appreciate my home. Nomad that I am, I am always wishing that I could be someplace else. When I’m in Seattle, I wish I had the palm trees of Arizona or the medieval flair of Germany, and vice versa. But now, after being away for so long, I feel that Seattle will be more special to me than it has been before. Nowhere else can I walk the waterfront, directly at the foot of the skyscrapers of downtown, smelling the salt of Elliot Bay and watching the fishing boats come in and out. Nowhere else can I wander Pike Place Market, with its turn-of-the-century, funky atmosphere, and experience what an American market really is. Nowhere else can I drive down I-90 with the windows down and the sunroof open, my favorite song on the radio, and the green, rolling foothills of the Cascades all around me. This is my home, and it’s no “better” than anyone else’s anywhere else in the world – but it’s mine, and it is unique.

The year is ending the same way that it began: suddenly. I remember back in August how panicked I was that the departure date had snuck up on me, and now, almost 12 months later, it has literally snuck up on me again. There doesn’t seem to be enough time to explore my thoughts and sort out my emotions – it’s just so much, so fast.

Yes, I want to go home. But I think back on everything that this year has been and my heart hesitates. It has been a great year, it has been an awful year, it has been everything in between. I’ll never forget the evenings spent in pubs with friends, drinking robust, frothy beer and relishing the knowledge that I am experiencing something, living something that so few people will ever have the chance or the desire to do. I’ll think back on afternoons spent punting around on the Neckar in a Stocherkahn, admiring the colorful and happily sagging houses along the water’s edge. I’ll remember how hard it was to be away from family and country during Christmas but smile at the beautiful pictures of a snow-laden medieval town and the memories of the beautiful Christmas markets, sipping hot, spiced wine, that I have received in return. I’ll reflect on how much I hated the never-ending lecture periods but grin a little when I remember how amazing it was to sit there and listen to my lectures and write term papers in a different language. I’ll smell the rich, earthy aroma of the farms as I run through my old jogging route in my dreams and taste the bittersweet coffee that I drank at outdoor cafes while gazing out over the marketplace and thinking, “There is nowhere else in the world I’d rather be.”

As much as I know that I need to go home, the biggest part of me does not want to leave right now. It’s painful to think that this is now all over. Just like this, it’s all coming to an end. So sudden, so unexpected, even though I’ve been waiting for this for months. Standing before the very thing I’ve been dying to do – get on that plane and return to America – I am now ripped to shreds by the sudden, unanticipated resistance of my own emotions. It’s because when I get on that plane, there is no longer any turning back. It will be, once and for all, over. Never again can I have this experience, never again will I be a college student in Europe, studying in a small town called Tübingen. Never. The finality is crushing, and my mind begins throwing out excuses to try to prevent the inevitable. “You can’t leave! There is so much you haven’t done yet!”

Yes, that's the most painful part of this whole process of leaving: the knowledge that it has to end. I feel helpless. It's a sobering feeling when you realize that you cannot stop time. It has to go on.

I feel exactly the same way that I did when I left ASU to leave for Germany. Just as when I left Arizona, I am now leaving the world that I've spent a year building for myself. And when I get on that train to Frankfurt it will all go up in smoke. It's over. Done. We all say "we'll come back." And we will. But it won't be the same, not by a long shot. The world we've known here is, in a sense, going to disappear. And I suppose that's why it feels as though I am dying a little. To leave, as they say, is to die a little.

The worst part of the whole experience is that it calls your very identity into question. Who am I? Where do I belong? I feel at home on both continents - which one is truly home? The nomad in me wants a real, definite answer. I belong here, in Germany, and yet I do not. Seattle is my home, and yet it is not. There is no answer to these questions.

Real closure for this experience, I suppose, is not possible in this moment, no matter when I leave. There will always be the voices of hesitation, of regret, of missed opportunities, of fond memories refusing to be cast aside, that beg for me to stay where I am here and now. But I’ve learned something else this year: I can’t just stay. Life keeps going, whether you’re along for the ride or not. It HAS to end. It has to end so that something new can begin. The incredible impact of this year will fade into the past, and with it the clarity of the emotions it contained. But if it didn’t, we would be stuck forever in the present instead of looking forward. Here and now is beautiful, but it would become a wasteland if it never changed. Kirsten Dunst summed it up beautifully in the film Elizabethtown:

"You have five minutes to wallow in the delicious misery. Enjoy it. Embrace it. Discard it. And proceed."

It is time to move on, to begin the next chapter. Tomorrow I'm going to get up early, take my camera, and go out to my old jogging route through the farmland above the student village. I'm going to take pictures of these beautiful Swabian farmhouses, inhale deeply and smell the scent of the freshly-tilled crops, and sit on the bench that overlooks the whole valley. I'll go to my last class and pick up my last certificate. I'll go to the Altstadt, wander around, soak it in, and take as many pictures as I can. Then I'll close my bank account and move out of my room.

I'll get on the train, and I'll watch the "Tübingen Hbf" signs fade away as I speed toward Frankfurt. I will finish the year-in-review video before I leave Germany, encapsulate this experience, and then I will get on that plane and step from one world back into another. And that will be it.

I will be back someday, and hopefully not too long from now. There isn’t any question about that. But for now, it’s time to go home. It’s time to go home and embrace the future once again, even though it's painful. It's time to go, the same way that I did on August 16th, 2005.

Goodbye, Germany.

Just About Done

Room is almost completely empty, minus my luggage and the random crap that just needs to be thrown out. After I do that I just need to wipe everything down and clean the bathroom and I'm finished. I'll do the rest later tonight.

::relief::

I hope my suitcase isn't too heavy. It probably is. Oh well, I'll pay the extra if I have to, it can't be THAT much over the limit. Now it's time to shower and head down to the last Campus für Christus meeting...then it's out for a drink with Franzi and Martina afterward. After that, it's back to the room for the final clean-up and eventually bed.

I can't believe it's my last night in Tübingen. It's not really "hit" me yet. I'm too busy trying to get stuff done.

Packing Day

I woke up today nauseous. Again. For about the 5th day in a row. Something's gotta be wrong...it's just not normal to wake up feeling like you're going to throw up every morning. Unless you're pregnant, which I highly doubt that I am.

Today will be a day spent packing up the room, getting the last boxes shipped off, and trying to get ready for the big departure tomorrow. Tomorrow. Tomorrow I leave Tübingen. Weeeeiiird.

The Tests, the Beer Garden, and a Sunset

Well, finals are done. Finally.

My oral exam for German literature went so amazingly well that I can hardly believe it myself. I soared through every single question he asked me and I could tell he was impressed with the terms I was throwing out that showed I knew what I was talking about. There were a few little mistakes here and there, and for that, I get a 1,3. That is a very, very solid A in the American system. Getting that done made me suddenly feel great again - stomach pains are gone, my jitteryness is gone, and i feel great.

Took my written history exam today too, which also went okay. Nothing major, but I won't know what I got on that for some time. The Schein will be mailed later on.

Ended up not going to Reutlingen nor getting the beer diploma, but it was totally worth it for what we got to do instead. The beer garden we went to is called Schwärzlocher Hof, and it's on the top of a small hill overlooking the valley that Tübingen is nestled in. It was, in a word, absolutely gorgeous. Picture of our view below.

While we were sitting there eating Bratwurst and Sauerkraut (at least I was), I was looking out over this view and watching the sun go down, thinking, "I can't believe I'm leaving this place." Why is it that you only really start to appreciate the beauty of something when it's coming to an end?

My Body Hates Me

Food has never been a favorite thing of mine. For me, "eating" has always been a second priority; something you do when and if you have time. Always. It happens often that I completely forget to eat lunch or dinner because I'm working on something else. This cannot be normal.

And now my body hates me, and is exacting its revenge for the past week of malnourishment.

I am so tired of waking up in the morning feeling like I'm going to die. This happens often during finals, that I just have so much to get done that I don't even eat right. But it's almost over. Just a couple more days. It just makes me so unbelievably angry on a day like today when I need to be up, chipper, and go go go and then my body decides to make me feel like crap, making me lethargic and barely able to eat because I feel so sick. If you want me to eat, body, then for pete's sake, LET ME EAT! If my body was a person, I'd beat the crap out of him for ruining my productivity.

I am not wild about the idea of getting a Beer Diploma tonight. The thought of downing 3 liters of beer, no matter how much time I have, is NOT appealing to me right now at all. We are going to have approximately 4.5 hours to complete the beer diploma. That's almost a liter an hour. I know for a fact that my body cannot process alcohol that fast. And there is NO WAY I am going into Thursday with a hangover. I have too much to do. So we'll see. I may actually leave Germany without my beer diploma.

The Evil Robot Gives Me a Lecture

Had a really hard time falling asleep last night and woke up this morning feeling like I was going to throw up. So that was cool. And it took me a while before I felt better (until almost 1) at which point I ended up having lunch with L squared (Lori and Laurie). By that time it was close to 2 and I still hadn't done anything, so I went to Brechtbau and spent 3 hours in the language library listening to the recordings of my lectures again for my oral exam tomorrow. I still have 3 more hours of lecture to hear/take notes on, so I'll have to do that tomorrow morning before the exam.

The language lab, where I was listening to these recordings, was an interesting experience. You are sitting in a little cubicle that is way smaller than what a normal study cubicle ought to be, at least for someone with arms as long as mine. The cassette machine (yes, CASSETTES. blast from the past) is embedded in the desk itself and was very retro, nice and brown with large black buttons and a little logo up in the corner that proudly said "Made in West Germany." Yikes. These things ARE old. The cassette player heated up quite a bit as I listened to the tapes, with the strange result that the tape playback slowed down. A lot. It slowed down so much that eventually I was listening to the lecture at probably half the speed it should have been playing, resulting in the prof's voice sounding not only like it was at the bottom of a very deep well but also as if the professor had transformed into some sort of evil futuristic robot. Good times.

Of course, while listening to these tapes my head was practically on the desk because I am still so doggone tired. For me, trying to function on less than 8 hours of sleep is like trying to drive on the freeway with the emergency brake on. It just doesn't work. After 3 hours of listening to Tron lecture on the origins of Greek tragedy, my brain was threatening mutiny. Take off the headphones, or I'll give you an aneurysm.

Now it's 7pm, I'm still pretty tired (although feeling a bit more chipper) and I have a 12-page paper, currently in the form of a blank Microsoft Word document, staring me down. Plus I need to review for my history final tomorrow. Sigh. There just doesn't seem to be enough time. I may very likely end up writing this paper in the airport in Copenhagen. Honestly, what else am I going to do for 7 hours?

Here goes. Let's see how far I get.