Hamburg Blues

I just had a meltdown in Hamburg. This city has not brought out the best in me so far. While in Copenhagen, Levi told me he would be staying in Hamburg from Sunday afternoon until Tuesday morning. Of course I’m going to go and get a bier with him. It’s Levi. So, I send a last minute emergency request on couchsurfing and get a response from Jerry, a 50 year old living near the center of Hamburg. I get to his apartment and the next day we go see the city. Turns out Hamburg is just a city. I mean, it has some cool history, buuuut it’s just a city. I didn’t really like it. I also found Jerry to be not the most pleasant person. Not that he was unpleasant; he just had very negative views on the world. Granted, he’s a fifty year old whose “American Dream” fell apart. Until a few years ago he was living in a nice home in Seattle with his two kids, beautiful wife, good job, and faithful guinea pig. Now he is single, recently unemployed, and living by himself in a foreign country with a daughter who hates him for it. He was very pessimistic about the whole situation. Very pessimistic about the whole world actually. He tended to point much of his anger towards the values commonly held by the people (wife and kids in a nice little house) along with the ones pushed onto the people (Consumerism. Yum!) It’s funny because while he was bitching about never really wanting to have kids and hating the American way, I would add little comments such as, “I want kids!” and “I might get married someday.” In my opinion, the American dream has some aspects to it that are undesirable and it’s okay to disapprove, but in general I want it, and I’m ok with that. I want a good job (physical therapy!), kids, and good, safe place for them to grow up. Yup. I’m selling out, and my dream might fall apart like Jerry’s did, but at least I should try and be happy with whatever comes from my efforts.
But all in all, Jerry’s a good guy, and he really helped me out. Gave me a place to stay and bought my breakfast. Thanks, Jerry. Viel Gluck!
After staying at Jerry’s for two nights and leaving his apartment midday on Sunday, I went off to the Hauptbahnhof (central train station Hbf) to try and meet up with Levi. He told me what platform he would be arriving at and I secured a position overlooking it. Little did I know that his train had switched platforms, so after about thirty minutes of standing there knowing something is wrong but hoping that standing there for longer would help the situation, I finally left and decided to find a place to stay for the night. I also proceeded to have a mini tantrum. “I hate this city! I want to go home!” I almost bought a ticket home right then and there, but realized I would arrive at about three in the morning and have to walk for an hour home from the station in the middle of the night. So, I didn’t. I had written down directions to the A&O hostel near Hbf, so I grabbed a map and tried to find it. All the while, hateful thoughts of Hamburg still angrily marched through my mind. “I’m leaving first thing tomorrow. Earliest ticket home. Stupid place. I hate it.” Grumble. Grumble.
I find the place, get a room, and check my mail. I contact Levi, and we finally meet up downtown.
Let me try and explain how I felt when I first saw Levi. I’ve just moved to another continent and have been traveling around for a week and a half in a country where, yeeaaah they speak my language but it’s not quite the same. I’ve never traveled by train in Europe, I’ve never couchsurfed, I’m all by myself, and while it’s been an amazing trip it’s also had quite a bit of anxiety to go with it. I’ve had some serious anxiety more than once revolving around whether the bus or train I’m on is going to the place I actually want to be. Basically, I’m in quite a state for a person to be in.
And then I see my old friend Levi. My good old American buddy. A MUCH needed familiar face in a sea of strangers and new found acquaintances. I run up to him and give him a hug. I was so relieved.

I can’t even imagine how I’ll feel when Ariel comes. I’ll probably pee my pants.
Levi, his roommate from Liepzig named Fokko, and I go and eat dinner, and then off to a Kniepe (bar) in the same district I saw a protest the day before. We hang out, try and speak some German, and have a good time. I go back to my hostel and meet up with them the next morning. We go on a lovely boat tour around the harbor that partially repairs my opinion of Hamburg.
Only partially, though.
After a few more hours of wandering the city, we go to Fokko’s house to eat some dinner and take Levi’s bags to the airport. Levi spent one month studying in Leipzig and one month working on a goat farm, and he’s due to go back to America the next morning.
After we eat, I go and check my mail for the first time that day. At about 19.00 I open up an email informing me that my orientation for my job is scheduled for Tuesday, July 27 at 7:45 am.
FUCK.
There are three numbers given on the email. I call them all. No one answers, and there’s no voicemail. I desperately check the train schedule. The soonest one will get me to Ramstein at 7:20. I even go as far as checking place tickets, which yields no better results. I send an email to Leah telling her my situation and pray that everything will be ok, which at that point I wasn’t sure it would be. I think it was the way she ended the email saying, “This will be considered your first day of work” that really got me.
But I stayed pretty calm during the whole thing, despite occasional images of me jobless in Europe that I couldn’t quite suppress popping up every once and a while. What I worried most about was fucking things up for Ariel. Her quitting her secure, well-paying job in America and showing up in Germany with me somehow already having gotten fired from this new job before I even started. How great would that be? No, it would be awful.
I eventually go back to my hostel and go to bed not knowing what tomorrow would bring. We shall see!
The next morning, I arrive at the train station ready to make my ticket purchase. I plug in everything into the ticket machine and insert my card. “Card could not be read.” Ok. I insert it again. “Card could not be read.” I flip it around. “Card could not be read.” I flip it again. Same thing. I take out my credit card. Same thing.
“Ok. Maybe the machine is having a problem. I’ll just go get some cash and use that.”
I go to the atm, put my card in, and enter the amount I want.
“Transaction could not be processed.”
Fuck.
The way Fokko worded my entire European situation while I was trying to explain it to him the day before were the best thing for me to draw off of in this current one.
“So, you have a job, Sarah?”
“Not yet.”
“But you have your own place?”
“Uhh, no.”
“So, let me get this straight. You’re jobless and homeless all by yourself on another continent?”
“Haha, I guess I am.”
It really made me feel better to think about that while I was missing my first day of work with 40 euro in my pocket and a useless debit card.
I would guess that I kept it together for about five minutes. After that, while looking through my bag for a pen on the train station stairs, the floodgates slowly started opening. My eyes started watering as I dialed Fokko’s number and asked if I could come over to his house to call my bank. On the way down the escalator to the U2, tears started dripping from my eyes while I would hastily wipe them away with the back of my hand. While on the subway, I let go a little bit and had a mini sobfest whilst sitting in the corner wondering what the German lady sitting across from me was thinking about all of this.
I was crying while walking through Fokko’s neighborhood, which I’m sure didn’t cheer up the German neighbors on their morning walks.
I got to Fokko’s house, rang the doorbell and said, red faced, “Nothing catastrophic has happened. I’ve just had a bad day and need to be by myself for a few minutes.” He showed me where his room was and I proceeded to bawl my eyes out.
I can’t say I’ve really cried yet while in Germany, and it was WAY overdue. I’ve cried a couple tears here and there, but hadn’t really let go yet. Hadn’t had a cry that releases all of your tensions and anxieties.
Five minutes later, I come downstairs and sit down next to Fokko. “Here’s what happened.”
I call the bank, and after a lovely chat that started as, “I’m in Europe by myself, and my card isn’t working. Is there anything we can do to fix this?” I get it all straightened out.
An hour later I’m on the train home. Thank GOD. I am ready to go home.

Random, Unfinished Post About Copenhagen

As I’m sitting on the floor of the Hamburg Hauptbahnhof railway station leaning against the departure sign by the 5b platform with my backpack at my side, I hear an unintelligible German garble of words announcing something regarding Koebenhaven. Confused, I turn to the three teenage boys sitting next to me and ask them, “Entschudigung. Sprechen Sie English? Yeah? Are you going to Copenhagen? Did you hear what the speaker said? I think it changed platforms.”
They were going to Copenhagen but weren’t paying attention, and because our train was scheduled to leave in about four minutes, one of them runs down the platform and up the stairs to check the updated departures billboard. He comes running back and yells in what I later found out was Dutch and they start booking it to platform 6b. I follow and we finally make it to the next platform and cram into the overcrowded train. There are no seats so we pop a squat in the hallway next to the bathroom. I find a spot up against the trash/recycling cans. You get used to the smell.
After a stop, two Brits, a young blonde haired man and portly short haired girl sit next to me in the hallway. The conductor walks by checking tickets, squints at them, and asks, “Did you just get on or get on at the last stop?”
“Yes! We got on at Hamburg!” they respond.
“Alright,” he says and walks on.
A few minutes later I find out that they did not in fact get on at Hamburg and did not in fact pay for a ticket. Why? Theyre with the British Armed Forces doing an exercise. They were told to go as many miles away from their base and back as they could without paying any money. They get a point for each mile, 150 for each monument, 50 for each good deed, and 200 for each mode of transportation. They were pretty cool. They taught me a game called Shithead. Those two, the three Danish boys, and a Canadian couple were all hanging out in the hallway spilling into first class having a powwow. It was great. We were playing guitar and singing songs up until some older lady from who knows where starts telling the Canadian playing the guitar that she wants quiet. Damn.

I don’t know if you’ve heard of Couchsurfing.com. It’s a social network of travelers who both host and surf for free anywhere a couch is available. I’ve been a member for over a year and up until now it was only a dream of mine to utilize it. Of course when you’re traveling alone the idea of staying at some strangers home for free is a bit sketch, but in Copenhagen I decided I would finally try it out. I found three profiles that looked ok and sent out my messages. Two of them declined, but one of them named Nickolaj accepted my request. He is a school teacher who teaches history, English, and geography. Perfect.
Up til now I've been adjusting to the whole everything around me being in German thing, and when I arrived in the central station at Copenhagen (in Denmark) and got off the train, I felt completely disoriented. Danish is apparently closer to English than German is, but to me it makes no sense whatsoever. I’m supposed to take the bus to Nickolaj’s house, so I wander around the station looking for the right bus to take. I find the bus, get on it, and get off at the Forum station. I call Nick, and wait. While standing against a building next to the bus station, I proceed to have a very private freak out. To an outsider, it merely looked like I was sorting out my Euros from my Kroners, but on the inside... you don’t even know.
“What am I doing here? Why am I staying at some stranger’s house??? What the fuck?”
Freeeeeak out.
Nick arrives and I hastily shove my coins into my pocket, shake his hand, and we’re off to his apartment.
He nonchalantly walks down the street explaining the situation at his place. “My wife and daughter are in Canada, so you’ll be staying in my daughter’s room with the Russian girl. I’m expecting some Brazilians in a couple of hours, so they’ll be taking the other one…”
“What is this?” I think, and of course terrible, worst case scenario thoughts race through my head, most of which involved the sex trade. Oh, God. Oh, God.
But we get to his place, and it’s fine. He actually turned out to be a really cool dude. The nachste day, he gave Olga (my Russian roommate) and me a quick tour of the city. And by quick I mean, he’s a freakin fast one. Practically running to keep up with the bugger as we weave through the most popular tourist walkway.

Hold on… I’m on the wrong train… Apparently there are two trains stuck together going to two separate places, and I’m on the one to Nyang-something….
Ok. On my way to Hamburg.

We see the sights. Up the tower, through the palace, by the cathedrals. Ooooo ahh. All the while, Nick is giving us the Danish lowdown of what we see.
While we were on the tower, he made a brief comment: “aaaand THAT there is Sweden. That is the last time we talk about Sweden. Don’t get me started on that place. Coming over to Copenhagen and getting wasted. They have a saying here. ‘Keep the city clean, follow a Swede to the ferry.’ God. Stupid Swedes.”
Maybe it was the whole Sweden kicking Denmark’s ass when Denmark was practically ruling the world that made him so bitter. Hmmf. Yeah.
While I’m here, he, and the national museum, really paint a picture of how this country is full of Viking badasses. “Inside every Dane is a Viking screaming to get out,” he says. Blonde is the norm, and there are bikes everywhere. Nick also tells me his view on European mentality.
“History isn’t history here. History is very much in the present.”
“There has been fighting here since the beginning of time, and while there may be a “European Union” bringing us together, in the end, it’s all about your own country and your own interests. Old tensions and rivalries are never going to die.”
“Goddamn Swedes. Don’t talk to me about the Swedes.”

Hitchhiking

I tried hitchhiking for the first time today. I’m sorry Mom and Dad, but I did.
I’m hanging out at Justin’s planning out my trip whilst he is at work and decide, heck, why don’t I just walk to the train station and scope it out. He said it was only a 30 minute walk down a bike trail. That’s not too bad.
I start my little stroll and quickly realize that it’s a bit farther than Justin thought. As I’m trudging along, I cross a street. I continue on the trail for a minute when I suddenly realize.
“Hey, I could hitchhike.”
What? But hitchhiking is risky… and I’ve never done it. You never know what’ll happen!
But you’ve always wanted to. Why not do it now? Right now! You’re here in Europe DO IT!
I think this while biting my lip and walking down the trail surrounded on both sides by trees and raspberry bushes. I slow down, turn around, and go back to the road.
Adventure! If I don’t ever try it then it will be life wasted!.. or at least a life played safely.
I walk along the road, which is pretty rural so there’s no heavy traffic. Every few minutes, a car would pass and I would timidly stuck my thumb out, both hoping someone would stop while praying that they wouldn’t. You know how they always say that you should give 100%? I didn’t. It was, say, a 50% hitchhiking effort.
I walked for about a quarter mile until it got really curvy without a shoulder. Sketch. The bike trail was right beside the road so I tried to make my way back to it. I had to trudge through raspberry bushes down a small, yet very steep hill, and if you’re not familiar with raspberry bushes, they have thorns. I eventually make my way down partially unscathed and continue my way.
I reflected on myself and my actions of the past hour. I thought to myself, “If some sentient being went to my parents as my three sisters and I were growing up and said “One of these daughters is going to try and hitchhike, Which one?” They would have said, “THAT one. You know, the one who’s running up the walls? Sarah. Nooooo question.” Sorry Mom and Dad.
I get to the train station, mess with the ticket machine, and go off to search for food. I make it to the information desk and they tell me to go to the Spoojum.(sp?? What??). I go there and it’s CLOSED. Ahhh, all I want is a schnitzel und bier before my journey home. After staying in Germany for roughly a week, I have come to the conclusion that everything is closed. Always. How the German economy is worth anything is a mystery to me because no store is ever open.
I start walking back with my schnitzel und bier-less stomach. Well, I can just go the bier garten down the road from my place. I finally make it back after an hour and IT’S CLOSED. Point made. I give up, go home, and make a pizza.
This is my great adventure. My adventure where I let go of insecurities that may have held me back in the states. Time to say, what am I doing? And answering living! Wahoo.

So Long, and Thanks for the Fish

About that whole confusion about life direction thing. I have come to the conclusion that everyone in this world is confused at some point, and it is my turn. However, since it is a universal experience, that means I am not alone in my confused sadness when in fact it does happen. Therefore, I should be neither confused nor concerned about these things and get on with life.
On that note, I’m going to Denmark!
Tschuss!

Twilight

The other day, while I was sitting in a lounge on base I overheard a conversation between a young couple. The woman, who was blonde and in her thirties, was sitting at a table reading the newspaper when her man walks up.
“Hey, I found out they’re playing Twilight at the theater this evening.” She says.
He looks at her, frowning. “Umm… You want to see it again?”
With those words, she glares at him, shuts her newspaper with a huff, stands up, and snaps, “YES. I do.” and starts walking off with him trailing behind her.
Poor guy. I bet I knew what you did last night.. other than sleeping on the couch.. But I wrote a poem for you. Maybe it will make you feel better.

Twilight, oh Twilight. You make women bitches
And I'm laughing so hard that my belly’s got stitches
You run after the stars
Make them get hit by cars.
But they don't mind, they steal your riches.

True story. Robert Pattinson was once ran into a street because a a mob of crazy Twilight fans were chasing him, and he got hit by a taxi. Whaaaat the hell.

Trials and Errors: The Making of Friends

Now that I’ve been here a few days, I’m starting to remember what it’s like to move. The flashbacks keep comin to the last time I moved, which was Tucson (obviously) almost eight years ago. One of the most interesting, exciting, and difficult parts of moving is finding and making friends. People need people, right? I mean, normal people need people, and when you move to a new place, more often than not you don’t know any of those. I had forgotten how friendship making is so different when you’re new to a place. You’re not as picky. Someone shows up that you even just sort of get along with, and you try it out, sometimes knowing that in a different situation you might not do the same. That sounds really shallow, but it also has amazing potential to broaden yourself because you put yourself out there for people you wouldn’t do otherwise if you were say, already hanging out with people you’ve known for years and happy about it. Like, “Eh, she was cool, but I’ve already got my friends from five hundred years back so I don’t really feel the need to try to make thaaat work.” It’s not that you don’t like them, it’s just that... meh. *shrugs*
I’m also reflecting on the evolution of friendships in a new setting. Of course you’re going to meet a bunch of people, and of course you’re going to hang out with them so you can get to know them. The last time I moved, though, the first people who showed interest in me turned out to be pretty mean girls. The whole girls gone wild drama drama gossip gossip. I hated it. Then, I moved on to someone else and that didn’t work out. I tried out a few people after that and after a while finally found someone I resonated with. The point is, I had forgotten about the friendship “trials” you go through before finding the right person to spend your time with. Up til I find the right person, I’m gonna try and hang out with a girl I met last night whose three weeks new to the area. We’ll see where it goes. :)

Plane Rides and First Days.

When I bought my plane ticket, I didn’t notice that it was Air India (AI) from Newark to Frankfurt, and I also hadn’t heard about the horrific plane crash that occurred shortly before I made my purchase. Maybe that’s why the ticket was so much cheaper than all the other ones…
I got into the Newark airport and needed to check into Air India so I go to where all the ticket counters are… but their counter isn’t there. Hmm..
“Excuse me. Do you know where the Air India ticket counter is?” I ask a US Airways guy.
“Oh, they’re downstairs.”
What? I go downstairs and off in this corner surrounded by mobs of people wearing saris, salwars, and sandals is the Air India check in counter. I felt like I was going back in time. There were aisles to direct the lines to the counters, but not everyone was using them, so I took initiative and finally made my way up to the counter. I get my ticket, get to the gate, get on the plane, and my Air India flight begins. The flight I was taking was flying to Frankfurt and dropping people off before going to India, so I’m one of the five token white people on the plane. Everyone is speaking Hindi or some Indian dialect, the attendants are wearing saris, and the safety instructions are in Hindi/English, and I’m thinking, “I thought I was going to Europe. I freaking would end up on a plane like this.” It was great. Oh, and the best part was the Indian food for dinner. I ate aloo gobi and paneer with rice, and if you know what that is then I’m sure you’re jealous.
Another best part was getting a row of two seats to myself. It was just like hanging out on a loveseat. Best overnight flight ever.
As the plane was landing, I went through nearly the entire spectrum of emotions in a rapidly shifting cycle. Well, half the time I was so tired that I really wasn’t feeling anything. I was just looking out the window watching the world come closer. One of the things I noticed is that the Frankfurt area is like camouflage; it has little pockets of small villages surrounded by fields surrounded that are all connected. All the spaces in between are forests. But as I was looking out the window observing things such as this while thinking, “It’s all the same,” a shot of adrenaline suddenly jolted through my body.
“WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING?!?” I started freaking out- wanting to go back to Tucson with all my friends, family, and everything comfortable. After about a minute, though, I reminded myself, “Sarah, you have control over how you feel.” and the feelings calmed and eventually evolved into exhilaration, “ADVENTURE! YAY! BRING IT!”
All these feelings of anxiety turned tranquility turned excitement happened in a matter of minutes. I’m sure it was a sight to see for the Indian lady sitting near me. My face twisted with worry, nervously shifting my legs, wringing the end of the seat belt in my hands all suddenly relaxing to zen-like stillness and then to leg-kicking, bright eyed, smiling excitement.
The plane landed and I got into the airport. The first thing that I noticed was that every time I heard someone speaking German I had to stifle a giggle. It just seemed so silly. Ahhh, is this real? I can’t believe I’m here and those people are speaking in German. Hah.
I got my luggage and finally met up with Justin. Couldn’t have asked for a better person to hold my hand during this whole process. He’s really going out of his way to accommodate me. He picks me up from the airport, and we drive off to the Autobahn in his BMW named Betty. While going around a curve at 180 kmph I honestly thought to myself, “but I can’t die right now! I just got here!”
At one point during the ride home, there was a lull in conversation and I finally asked Justin,
“….Did I really just move here?”
“Well, when is your return flight?” he asked.
“Uhh, my flight was one-way.”
“Then, yes, you live here.”
“Holy crap.”
We get into town and the first thing we do is go to the top of a giant hill in Landstuhl so I can get the lay of the land… where there’s a red sandstone castle. At that point, I was so jetlagged that all I could think was, “Huh.. Cool. A castle.”
Then we went on base, and let me tell you about how this was one of the strangest days of my life. I start off in America, Tucson to be exact. Then I fly Air India, which basically means I went to India. THEN, I land in Europe. Whoa… but THEN it gets crazy.
We go onto base and DUDE. I went back to America. We went to the mall to pick up some stuff I needed, and first thing we do is walk into the food court with Taco Bell, Johnny Rockets, Subway, what have you. They even use dollars on base.
To sum it up, I traveled to three continents and back in ONE day. It was extremely disorienting, and I had a hard time interpreting what had just happened to me on top of the whole moving to Europe thing.
Dang.
So far it’s been quite a trip. I’ve been here three days, and a lot yet so little has happened. The first day was spent sleeping. 14 hours with a walk at five in the morning, which I must say was spectacular. I watched the first sunrise living in Germany sitting in a meadow in a charming little German village.
I mean, don’t get me wrong. It hasn’t all been great. I know one person, and I’m so happy that he’s here to help me out, but I still get sad when I think about all of it too much. I miss my desert and moving here has really made me question my direction in life. Not that I’m unhappy with the path I will eventually take, but this move has made me feel like I lack direction, at least for the moment. It’s telling me that security and stability in life isn’t so certain. I’ve disconnected myself from everything I know and starting new. It’s like my life is floating. Not attached to anything, but still grasping at what was and soon will be. But right now it’s just me, this new place, and this waitressing job. I’ve never even been a server for christ’s sake.. What if I don’t like it? Then, shiiiit.
And yes, I have been worrying. About what, you ask? Everything, duh. What if I don’t like this job? I need to find a place but I want to get a place but I need to have a car because I’m staying in this village 14 km away and can’t find a place because I can’t get anywhere and am dependent on Justin to get places but he works aaall the time except for Monday and Tuesday but he’s planning other things and I need to get going but he doesn’t seem to think it’s an issue but what about when I start my job and I want to travel a bit but I’m worried about money because I haven’t saved up much and need to pay rent for WHEN I get my place and I want to have one by the time Ariel gets here because hosting one person is one thing, but when you get two…… and what if I don’t like this job? What if I suck at it?
It goes on and on. Over and over.
And then I go on a walk in the beautiful village and calm down because it’s so AWESOME and I really don’t need to worry at all. Whew.
But today I’m hanging out at the base while Justin is working. Got here at 3pm and am going to be here til 2am. At least I’m here with people and have gotten the layout of Chili’s. It really doesn’t seem that hard. People are hungry. You see what they want. You get them what they want, and they give you money. Not a bad deal.
But I’m not sure I can make it to 2am. We’ll see how it goes
Now that I’ve been here a few days, I’m starting to remember what it’s like to move. The flashbacks keep comin to the last time I moved, which was Tucson (obviously) almost eight years ago. The aspect of moving that I’m reflecting on now is finding and making friends. People need people, right? I mean, normal people need people, and when you move to a new place, more often than not you don’t know any of those. I had forgotten how friendship making is so different when you’re new to a place. You’re not as picky. Someone shows up that you even just sort of get along with, and you try it out, sometimes knowing that in a different situation you might not do the same. That sounds really shallow, but it also has amazing potential to broaden yourself because you put yourself out there for people you wouldn’t do otherwise if you were say, already hanging out with people you’ve known for years and happy about it. Like, “Eh, she was cool, but I’ve already got my friends from five hundred years back so I don’t really feel the need to try to make thaaat work.” It’s not that you don’t like them, it’s just that... meh. *shrugs*
I’m also reflecting on the evolution of friendships in a new setting. Of course you’re going to meet a bunch of people, and of course you’re going to hang out with them so you can get to know them. I’m thinking about the last time I moved, though, where the first people who showed interest in me turned out to be pretty mean girls. The whole girls gone wild drama drama gossip gossip. I hated it. Then, I moved on to someone else and that didn’t work out. I tried out a few people after that and after a while finally found someone I resonated with. The point is, I had forgotten about the friendship “trials” you go through before finding the right person to spend your time with. Up til then, I’m gonna try and hang out with a girl I met last night whose three weeks new to the area. We’ll see where it goes.