Lesson #4: Don't rely solely on the average temperature data. It can absolutely get colder.

These schoolchildren have the right idea!

Germany's average temperatures during November rest somewhere around 42 degrees.  The problem with that is that I live in southern Utah.  It's dry.  There's usually lots of sun.  A forecast of 42 quite often ends up in an actual 47.  That is not the case in Germany.  I really should have remembered this from my years growing up in Wisconsin where the fall is quite overcast, wet, and gloomy - and at a similar latitude as Germany.  Where a high of 42 quite often ends up in an actual 39.  Don't get me wrong here - I brought a hat and scarf, but I brought ones that were cute instead of functional because I underestimated the rain, snow, and chill.  I brought gloves but didn't anticipate the dampness seeping into them.  I brought thermal underwear, but only the bottoms.  I brought a coat, but one that would be cute in pictures (which is funny since there are literally only six pictures of me out of about 1200, and the coat can only be seen in three of them) instead of a more substantial winter coat.  In short, I didn't prepare

I brought an umbrella.  I forgot it in my suitcase though.

well.  I wore the same long-johns all but the first day I was there.  I wore both of the sweaters I brought layered one over the other all but one day.  And I bought a second scarf (worn on top of the first) and matching mittens that helped me make it through night tours of Munich and a castle tour in the foothills of the Alps during the first substantial snow of the season.  I didn't prepare well, but when combining the items that I had, and adding slightly to them, I was able to stay warm enough.  But my lesson has been learned - average temperatures are not actual temperatures, and it's ridiculous to pack for style when everything will be covered up by a coat that's not warm enough.  But don't worry.  I am ready now for next time.

Smiling in the snow

The night I bought the second scarf and third pair of gloves

Telling myself how smart I was to buy a second scarf and third pair of gloves

Beautiful and cold

It's getting deeper!

Lesson #3: If time permits, hit the unbeaten path.

Wiesbaden High School

It's hard to resist the 'sights' - ya know, that list that a lot of us have of the must-see, can't-miss spots of the places we go.  In planning my trip, I bought guidebooks and perused online travel websites to build this list.  The one tough one was finding things to do in Wiesbaden, my first city-stop.  I had to go there - the meeting at the DoD's school on the US military base there was the whole reason for the trip, but it's not a big tourist spot.  In fact, Rick Steve's book, my travel Bible through this whole thing, said to skip it altogether...wait, WHAT?  Skip it?  My first trip to this country, and a travel writer whom I respect very much says to not waste my time on the one place I absolutely have to go?  Besides thermal baths, which I wasn't interested in this time around, I had no ideas after visiting the school.

It turns out though, visiting a place that is not known for its attractions actually gives you a much better picture of what daily life is like for the locals.  You also have a bigger chance of being pleasantly surprised.  I have to admit, there has been more than one occasion where I've been underwhelmed by a sight after seeing it so many times in pictures an on travel shows.  

If you don't know what you're looking for though, there are new possibilities waiting to amaze the wanderer without expectations.  After my meeting, I walked back to town (the base is just outside of the city).  I took some side streets, wandering into some residential neighborhoods.  Walked to the city center by looking to the skyline and heading toward the highest church steeples.  

I passed through a children's park.  Heard church bells chime at noon.  I found a local pizza restaurant run by Italians, frequented by the local laborers and office workers at lunchtime.  Walked through a grocery store to find treats for my sister and saw the glorious cheese section while at it.  

I got caught in the rain without an umberlla.  Went shopping in a mall.  In short, I lived the regular day of a Wiesbadener with a day off from work.  It was delightful, relaxed, and full of surprises!  I think the things I didn't plan for surprised me more than the ones I did, and it allowed me for at least one day to skip being the outsider and imagine this as my life for real.  

Lesson #2: Don't be afraid to grunt, point, or ask.

One  of the - no, THE -  scariest thing about being in a foreign land is the difficulties in communication.  I felt all high and mighty after making some hotel arrangements through email entirely in German, creating this itinerary, jumping in to this blindly and things were actually turning out just fine...Then the little situation at the airport happened and I was shaken slightly, but only for a moment.  I started to get all snooty again though, thinking how smooth I was because I was traveling by mySELF, got to the station all by mySELF, bought my train ticket by mySELF...and then it came time to find the right train platform and I had to grunt out some basic German.  I was blushing.  I was embarassed.  I knew nothing but "excuse me", and pushed my ticket in the police officer's face.  He pointed the direction I should go, and then I made my way down the stairs and took a seat on a bench.  At least we hadn't had to have an actual conversation!  Phew, that was close!

I was early enough that even though I kept telling myself that I was probably not in the right place, I could study the signage and feel pretty sure.  The platform started to fill up with travelers and business people.  And then a woman approached me.  She started to speak.  I could make out that she was asking me if she was in the right place to go to Wiesbaden...a platform full of people and she asks me! I may have answered, "Ja, I think so."  She spoke some more.  At that point I think I squeaked out the ever impressive "Ich spreche nicht viel Deutsch," which never seems to convince anyone that you don't speak much of their language when you can manage that sentence with generally correct pronunciation.  I learned quickly that if you say anything in a foreign language, this is an invitation to say more at an even faster rate (though this is not lesson #2).

A Honduran woman, who, incidentally, had been sitting next to the woman who had asked for help, snagged me upon our arrival into the Wiesbaden train station.  She spoke really good English and actually asked me if I was staying at MotelOne (I was) and if I would like to walk there with  her.  A Moroccan man who worked at the train station had offered to help her make her way to the hotel, so she invited me along (as a buffer, perhaps?).  The fact that I had spoken in some English in Frankfurt made her feel comfortable enough to approach me.  I thanked her as she met her South American tour group in the lobby, checked in (in English, but only after asking of course), and unpacked. I had made it to my first hotel safely and without tragedy.

But then the dreaded dinner hour approached.  I was going to have to talk to people again. I went back to the train station - I had noticed a few restaurants, one of them being a Subway sandwich shop if all else failed, and chose a sandwich/bakery shop.  I had no idea what any of the sandwiches were except that one of them had cheese on it (a word I did know).  My turn came.  I pointed and muttered something like "diese bitte" (I think that means 'this one please') and a Coke (the same in German as in English).  Still a little embarrassed, but I had done it.

The next day was more of  the same, except then buying chocolate.  I didn't know the words, but I used the ones I did, which included 'uh' a lot while pointing and making hand gestures.  She didn't speak English but found someone who spoke a little.  It turned out that I successfully made a transaction!  There are kindergardeners who speak with more eloquence than what I managed, but I had done it! Buying train tickets for the next day, I asked the man standing behind me a for clarification, using one word sentences and pointing.  He just answered in English.  Buying pizza from the Italian-run pizzeria, the same.  A pretzel.  Bratwurst.  I spoke the German words for those (they are the same as the English ones), handed over my money and it was over.  If I didn't understand something said to me while ordering food, I would say yes or no and hope i liked the outcome.  The more I spoke though, the more confident I felt because I had the safety net of the German people's knowledge of my language.  Sure, there were people who didn't speak English.  Sure, there were plenty of times when I was asked a follow up question when ordering food and I didn't know what the
heck I had just been asked.  But here's the kicker - while German's are punctual to a fault, can come off a bit abruptly, and don't smile much, they sure are a helpful bunch!  They could tell I didn't understand and would say it again in English.  I didn't even have to ask.  And this helped me know what was coming the next time I was in the situation.  I started to remember more words - basic, yes, but more        
than before, and I wasn't as afraid to make a mistake.  The more words you know, the easier it is to string them together into an intelligent thought.  Slowly but surely,  I was moving toward that direction.  This led me to one of my favorite moments of my trip.

I stayed at a pension while in Munich.  There was a breakfast room down the hall, and each morning there was a woman who had to be at least in her 80's sitting at a table that had a 'reserved' sign on it.  I think she was the mother of the owner.  Anyway, we would say our good mornings to each other and eat in silence.  I watched out of the corner of my eye as she licked up every last drop of cream from the pitcher and butter from her plate, smacking her lips.  She had white hair, wore a polka-dotted kerchief around her neck and a navy blue dress.  I wanted to talk to her but was afraid.  How I wished I could know what she knew about this country and what she had seen of it during her lifetime!  But I was limited by language.  My last morning at breakfast, I awoke to a snowy Munich.  When she finished eating, she stood to look out the window, right next to me.  Knowing that this was my only chance, I took a deep breath and asked her if Munich usually had much snow:  "Haben Sie vielen Schnee in Munchen?"  No, not usually was her reply.  She said something else, which was too much and too fast for me to understand, but I had had a conversation...half of one, at least.  She departed with a "Gruss Gott," the most common greeting I hear during my trip (God's greetings), and shuffled out of the room.  I watched her go with a smile.  I had started my journey speaking only English, moved to grunts and points, mumbles, words, sentences, and finally a conversation.  My linguistic evolution was complete.

Lesson #1: Be on time, and don't lose your ticket

Welcome to Germany!

After landing in Frakfurt and navigating through the throngs of Muslims waiting for arriving family members (Is there a Frankfurt in Pakistan somewhere?  Maybe I should have looked at my plane ticket a little more closely!), I grabbed my suitcase and reviewed the information I printed off of WikiTravel telling me what to do to catch the shuttle bus from the terminal I was in to the airport terminal that also housed the train station.

I loaded on and waited while the bus slowly filled.  It was pretty quiet at first with only a few people here and there, and I was only slightly nervous that I must be doing something wrong because it had been too easy to find and get on the shuttle.  I hadn't even had to ask anyone for help yet!  By the next moment though, there was a small mob of people trying to cram on.  There were many seats, but the isles were filled with luggage, making them unreachable.  This was shrugged of with muffled grumbles by most who were stuck outside in the chilly dampness, but not by one man.  He started arguing, trying to push his way on.  I quickly realized that I didn't speak as much German as I though I did, for I had no idea what he was saying, nor did I understand the responses my shuttle mates were throwing back at him.  I say throwing because their voices became louder, hand gestures more erratic.  An argument began.  He wanted on NOW.  Not in 10 or 15 minutes when the next bus would come.  Now.

"There are plenty of seats!  All of us could fit if you'd move in!"  "We can't move in!  Can't you see there is nowhere for us to go!"  "There is no reason for all of us to have to wait!  There is plenty of room on this bus!"  "Sir, it's not a big deal!  We'll just take the next one."  And on an on.  Because I chose a seat right behind the door, I have an all-access pass to what is happening, but it really gets interesting when the bus driver enters the picture.  It's one of those two compartment extended buses, he has tried to close the door but can't because the man is there, and he has to trek back two bus lengths worth to assess the problem fully.  And now he's pissed off.  He has a schedule.  This man is holding everyone else up.  Get on or get off, but he has to move.  So the instigator pushes his way on.  People are glaring that he got his way and saying things under their breaths.  So is he.  There is a lot of tension, and, as I have seen one too many crime dramas on the TV, I am half expecting someone to bust a cap in his smug Arsch. I'm glad that at least there is a plexi-glass sheet separating him from me, just in case a fight breaks out, which it doesn't.

Ticket please.

But I had two thoughts.  First of all, welcome to Germany.  Second?  The rumors are true about Germany.  Be punctual.  No, be more than punctual.  Be early.  Don't expect them to wait.  Don't slow them down.  I would later go on to learn that train tickets are always checked, sometimes more than once per trip by the same person, so always know where your ticket is.  Don't head to the bathroom when the ticket taker is in  your car or you will get a royal, public scolding (not me, but another tourist who I'm sure had no idea what he did wrong or what was being yelled at him) for trying to hobo your way across Germany.  In short, be on time or be prepared to wait and know it was your own fault.  And know where your ticket is. That is, unless you want the fury of a nation to take home with you!

Overall Impressions of My First Solo International Trip

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One of the things that worried me the most as I was planning and preparing for my trip to Germany the week of November 21st was that I was going alone.  I am not a leader.  I don't like to be in charge.  If I can defer to someone else's knowledge, skills, experiences, and abilities, I will and I will like it.  Where this became a problem with traveling alone is that there would be no one else to step up - I would have to be the expert for myself.  Sure, I could ask the natives, but I would have to do it, and that would be scary.  Figuring out the train system, getting on the right one, buying tickets, checking in to hotels, restaurants, subways, directions...all scarry.

What I discovered though is that the things that scared me the most were some of the easiest things to do.
That I am a capable person.

I was also surprised at how comfortable I was.  I guess I never realized how many things I do alone, because the alone-ness really didn't bother me.  I mean, I have a roommate, friends and a sister in town, but our lives are pretty independent of each other's.  I shop, go to lunch, make major purchases, go to church, drive and fly by myself all of the time.  Being in Germany was no different.   The only thing that was different about the whole experience is that the people around me spoke a different language, and one that I at least had a 2nd grade level knowledge of.  So here's to the things I learned and loved on my adventure!

Season of Family

I used to write in a journal.  It was sporadic at best.  I haven't even tried for at least a decade (how strange to say that) in large part because I would get busy or tired or forget and would go for weeks, months, close to a year without writing.  Then I would feel the need to catch up, and it would take the honesty, detail, and interest out of it.  More like a chore.  And I felt strange doing it too, like I was talking to myself.  Why was I trying to be funny, sincere, heartbroken for me?  I already knew how that felt, or felt that I was trying too hard.  It didn't feel real.

Blogging, on the other hand, has made me fall in love with writing.  It starts kind of like a journal, but I know at some point, even if it is just my mom, someone will be reading it.  I choose my words and ideas more carefully.  I think and plan about my topic.  Sometimes even research and survey the thoughts of other's.  All the things my English teachers told me I should do before writing, I do.  Yes, even the rough draft, because most of the time I write and publish, walk away for a day or two, and then re-read, edit, and revise.  I feel bad for the people who read the first copy and never know that I go back and see the horrible mistakes, unclear thoughts, and overly emotional sentiments that will at some point be fixed, clarified, and toned down (or up, depending on the need).  

But I have done a horrible thing.  I have gone for about three months without really blogging.  And I feel an itch.  I need to catch up.  I know other people do it too because I see their blog posts.  But I don't want to because of the lessons learned from the failed attempts at journaling.  So I must reach a compromise:  I need to satisfy the internal beast that ruins things for me, and get the weight off my back so I can be creative again.  The weight that says I am ignoring important events and people, if not to the world but absolutely for me.  So here is my one word summary of the last two and a half months:  FAMILY.  

What a honor to have them come visit!  How fun to go to where they are!  What a privilege to spend time with them!  Oh, how they make my burdens light.  I am blessed!

At the end of August, my brother Mark finished his 5 year stint and two deployments to Afghanistan with the Navy.  The original plan was to move to Cedar City, so he came to stay with Beth for about a month in September.  We spent a fun day hiking Angel's Landing in Zion National Park.

The baby blessing of Beth and Mike's newest daughter Sarah, who was born in April.

Claudia and Claire came to visit in October.  It was so much fun to have them stay with ME!  

Claire is full of personality.  She loves accessories!

Claudia, Claire and I went hiking at Zion NP as well.  We went on three short hikes.  It was fun to have some alone time with these two.  Claire loved all of the water!

Zion is beautiful on a rainy fall day.

Just as a side note, I have lived in Cedar City for almost 11 year now (yikes!).  People have talked about tarantulas and horned toads during those 11 years as though they fell from the heavens like manna.  Last year, I finally saw my first horned toads.  This fall, I saw a tarantula for the first time.  Then I saw another one two weeks later.   Tarantulas are not part of my family.  They are only creepily interesting. 

Mark decided, after a visit home in Wisconsin, that he didn't want to live in Utah after all.  He and Dad came out to pick up his stuff, but they didn't tell us they were coming.  What a wonderful surprise!  Though they only spent one full day, it was fun to have a half-family dinner.   

Ahhh, home for the holidays!  

Bucks vs. Jazz at Milwaukee.  Such a fun game!

Claudia is a family history whiz!  I am so impressed with her interest and ability to find out information about our ancestors.  Dad, Claudia, Adam and I went on a hunt to find the headstones of my father's grandparents, who had actually only lived about an hour from where my parents do now (though my father grew up in Milwaukee).  Claudia's work helped us get there.

I took the liberty of intruding on a private cuddle session of my sister's family.

Claire is in bed, the presents are wrapped, and everyone was waiting for the morning to come.  I wish Beth's family could have been here with us!

Claire is helping Mom with reading the Nativity story, a tradition of ours before we open presents.

My buddy liked to come make sure I was awake most mornings.  She never said much, nor did she stay long, but the fact that she checked was sweet.

The annual Hensel side of the family Christmas shindig.  There are many of us who must drive for hours to spend the evening with each other.   It's usually the only time all of us have a chance to get together, but the point is that all of us take the time to get together.

Home is where the heart is.  My heart is wherever my family is.