Deutschland is Leaving
[I wrote this post yesterday in the Denver airport on my way home. Had I been there just a day later, I'd currently be snowed in for who knows how long.]
Just as I reached my tolerance limit yesterday evening of trying to understand why the verb “knowing” can’t be formed in passive (apparently something can’t “be known by” someone, someone must always actively know it), the instructor dismissed our class for Christmas break. I had a strong feeling of relief and a weight lifted off me, which surprised me, since academically this semester has been probably the lightest workload of my college career, but I guess I didn’t realize how much living in a foreign place and foreign language wears you out. The thought of being home the next day, speaking in English, seeing Bethany, my family, and friends gave me a big smile on my face as I biked home through Göttingen’s lamp-lit streets, dodging acceleration-obsessed German drivers in their manual BMWs.
Thirty hours later (10 of those hours spent in an economy-class airline seat) I’m sitting in an American airport, eating a burrito for which I first tried to pay in euros, and still saying “danke” and “entschuldigung” instead of “thank you” and “excuse me.” It’s weird to think that just this morning I was running with three bags to the train station trying desperately to catch the overly-prompt Deutsche Bahn. And missing it. (Apparently when Germans say they’ll “pick you up” and “take you to the station,” they just mean they’ll walk there with you.)
It’s good to be home.
Just as I reached my tolerance limit yesterday evening of trying to understand why the verb “knowing” can’t be formed in passive (apparently something can’t “be known by” someone, someone must always actively know it), the instructor dismissed our class for Christmas break. I had a strong feeling of relief and a weight lifted off me, which surprised me, since academically this semester has been probably the lightest workload of my college career, but I guess I didn’t realize how much living in a foreign place and foreign language wears you out. The thought of being home the next day, speaking in English, seeing Bethany, my family, and friends gave me a big smile on my face as I biked home through Göttingen’s lamp-lit streets, dodging acceleration-obsessed German drivers in their manual BMWs.
Thirty hours later (10 of those hours spent in an economy-class airline seat) I’m sitting in an American airport, eating a burrito for which I first tried to pay in euros, and still saying “danke” and “entschuldigung” instead of “thank you” and “excuse me.” It’s weird to think that just this morning I was running with three bags to the train station trying desperately to catch the overly-prompt Deutsche Bahn. And missing it. (Apparently when Germans say they’ll “pick you up” and “take you to the station,” they just mean they’ll walk there with you.)
It’s good to be home.
It's so good to have you home!!! (Yes, it merits 3 exclamation points. At least.)
Posted by
Anonymous |
12:25 AM
Amen--I'm really glad you are home, too. I was dreadfully homesick in the south, where people still spoke English and cared about football (the American kind), so I can't even imagine what it would have been like to be in a foreign country.
Looking forward to seeing you while you are still in the states!
Posted by
Jacob |
12:43 AM
I'm really glad you're home too, Andrew! While I can't say the South makes me homesick since by now it is home, Nebraska for the holidays holds a special place in my heart, and I feel as though I'm way overdue on seeing my friends and enjoying the North: A Place Where the Drivers Use Signals and Not Atrocious Grammar.
Posted by
Lindsey |
11:12 AM