Life according to my phone

My camera's dead but I haven't been able to bring myself to charge it. It's increasingly high on my priority list though, because this gorgeous Jewish cemetery just around the corner calls to me every morning as I pass by on the train. I'm going exploring soon. 

Last weekend I visited the most beautiful, quintessentially European castle and town. Luckily one of the senior missionaries I came with had a camera and was willing to snap some pictures of me. What was I thinking? I'm waiting eagerly for the pictures so I can look back and see if all of the mystery and breathlessness I felt there could possibly be captured in some photographs. In the meantime, I present you with a handful of sub-par camera photos that sum up a bit of my daily life:

Germans are very methodical about their recycling...I sort every.single.thing I throw away. Pop your bottles in this baby and you get a coupon back to the store :).

The little bakery near my flat. I stop by to pick up a pastry after long days. I took this picture in the morning, but thankfully it's starting to brighten up. Just in time for daylight savings. 

The commute home. It's a very every day sort of thing.

The stereotypical German meal. The apple juice was delicious. The wurst was so-so. I am on the hunt for Frankfurt's finest bratwurst. 

I took a picture of the washer because I couldn't understand what to do and had to Google Translate some words. Most recently, I Google Translated a Jello recipe. 

 Dessert for lunch. But it's yogurt, right? So it's ok.

The train stop leaving work. (I just typed "home" instead of "work"...Freudian slip?)

 Rainy commute.

Hoping red lips solve my other grooming failures. Week #6 no hair appliances.

 It was this edgy, yet somewhat run-down indoor mini golf course. Like golfing through a modern art museum.

I mean, this was one of the holes. 

Sometimes I look down at my wrinkly elephant hands and just stare at this sparkly thing.

And Valentine's Days in Frankfurt aren't so bad after all. 

There might be some names on one of those locks that you'd recognize.

A European PB&J...if such a thing existed. And that cherry jam!

It's like insta-cherry pie. 

The moon on my morning walk-run to the station. (My walk-run deserves a blog post all of its own.)

And finally, I'm becoming this sort of fearless person who wears fuzzy green socks with black flats with no fear of judgment.