On living alone

Before coming to Germany, the longest I'd lived alone—without roommates or relatives—was three weeks. For those three weeks I lived like a millionaire's daughter. As an employee in a global pharmaceutical company's unusually generous internship program, for 21 days I sort of was.

That June, I had an elegant private Marriott suite, a maid who cleaned my bathroom and neatly lined my shoes in a row, and catered breakfast, lunch and dinner. In the evening my fellow interns sipped white wine and I ate endless fresh-cut watermelon as we watched the sun dip below the cloudless summer horizon. On the weekends we drove our rental car to stormy east coast beaches or took the train into New York City.

We frequented the city, browsing vintage stores in Brooklyn one day and dining in Little Italy another. If we stayed in Manhattan late—that was alright, a taxi was sent to pick us up.When I wasn't traveling or training on the job, I went on runs through the beautiful New Jersey greenery to the top of a memorial park overlooking the NYC skyline.

It still shocks me that this was my life.

But while I relish the details, I also realize my experience smacks little of reality—or at least a lasting reality. I moved to Chicago immediately after to complete the next part of my internship, and though a maid didn't organize my shoes and the mid-western heat was at full force by 7 am, I still felt like I was living inside some sort of urban dream.

What does this have to do with living alone? Well, it took me stumbling exhausted and frustrated into my small, suburban apartment late at night only to be greeted by a sink full of my dirty dishes and clothes strewn all over the floor to realize that I hadn't really lived alone until now. 

Or maybe I realized this the day I got sick and couldn't leave my bed. Or the night when, still suffering from jet lag, I woke up at 3 am and couldn't go back to sleep. Both restless day and night filled with no other sounds than the occasional rush of a car passing by, the whir of my computer fan and my own breathing. 

I'm struck by the thought that now more than ever before, my life is truly what I make of it. 

Except that I show up at the office and put in a good day's work, no one is terribly bothered with what I do. No one waits for me to arrive home. Once I walk through my door, I'm not confronted with anyone else's mess or warmth. There is no one to thank—unless, of course, I reach out for help. There is no one to blame—except, of course, myself. 

Those dirty dishes? All mine. The state of the apartment itself, a reflection of me.

Living alone has been a sort of vacuum. An experiment. Who am I really when requirements and expectations are stripped away? How do I use my time? 

As it turns out, I'm still me. I still drink apple cider religiously and split my time between silly TV and good books. I'm still working on studying my scriptures longer and more earnestly and I still seem to walk the thin line between productivity and distraction. I still don't mind solitude and actually often prefer it. 

But what I've really come to see is that expectations and requirements aside, my life has always been what I've made of it. 

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Marburg - Guest Photographer!

Hey. It's me. The girl who didn't bring her camera on a day trip even though she knew she was going to a charming old university town. Luckily, photography is a hobby espoused by many and luckily, one of my travel companions, Les Feil, was armed and ready. 

Les, who I call Brother Feil, and his wife Dianne--Sister Feil--are the senior missionaries working in the public affairs office with me. Brother Feil is a former furniture salesman, and Sister Feil raised so many daughters I can't even remember the number. They have a lot of cute grand kids. They let me sneak in the car with them on the way to the lovely Marburg, and below are the featured photos of Leslie Feil. 

Quick history trivia: Marburg developed at the crossroad of two major medieval highways. It's the home to the oldest Protestant university in the world--shockingly named the University of Marburg-- founded in 1527. But the town has been around since 1140! The architecture's mainly Gothic because Marburg was completely neglected during the 18th century. The castle and cathedral are tucked up onto the hill, making it an ideal vantage point. The views were stunning! 

Three cities, three weekends

March has a lot of adventures in store. I can't wait. As of now, I'll be visiting

here

and

here

and 

here.

Paris, Rome and Amsterdam, in that order. If all goes well, look for some pictures of Anne Frank's secret annex, me posing in front of the Louvre, and hopefully some sweet images of Pompeii (I'm working on planning the weekend in Italy today and tomorrow). 

I feel so blessed for the opportunity to be where am. Everything has truly fallen into place for me, and though it's hard to be away from home so long and though my experience so far has definitely not been without hiccups, I'm here, I'm seeing the world just like I always dreamed.

Just to illustrate--three of my former roommates served Mormon missions in Rome. When I asked them for suggestions for my visit, not only did they give me a wealth of wonderful suggestions, but my dear friend Mary actually contacted a Church member about giving me a place to stay. A couple emails later and voila!  My travel buddy Andrea and I will have a free and safe place to sleep for two nights. I am so overwhelmed by the generosity of complete strangers, both in Rome and here in Frankfurt. This church--this gospel--truly ties people together throughout the world, people who extend their goodness wherever they go. It's incredible.

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German Survival Guide: Month One

I don't think I said a word in German my first day here. Maybe a self-conscious "guten tag." I was overwhelmed that so many words could slip past me in a blur of meaningless noise. German no longer German but Deutsche.

Today I'm not so much overwhelmed as underwhelmed: I could hear the most articulate speech ever orated and continue on with my day relatively untouched. I'm picking up small phrases slowly but surely however, and while my small linguistic triumphs at grocery stores and restaurants are quickly toppled by the inevitable indiscernible reply, at least I can walk away thinking Hey, so I did pronounce that right after all. 

Below are the words I use the most on a daily basis (and commentary). My list is nowhere near impressive, and even a little sparse, but I have fond memories attached to each phrase. Here's to building another full list this coming month!

German Survival Guide: Month One

• Guten tag - Good day!
• Danke/Danke schoen - Thanks/Thank you very much (I noticed I said "danke" more than the locals so I switched to danke schoen which seems to be more polite and sincere). 
• Bitte/Bitte schoen - Please/ You're welcome/ Here you go/ May I help you?/Pardon? (One of those lovely multi-functioning, easy words.)
• Guten morgen/morgen - Good morning! (People in the office say it like GUTen MOOORG-en, it's a very hearty greeting exchanged in that early time of day.) 
• Entschuldigung - Excuse me/Sorry (In my naive days I've since far surpassed--ha!--I asked my supervisor Ralf to help me pronounce this word. I kept on repeating it with different pronunciations quite loudly in a very public place, not realizing that it probably sounded like I was upset. Or  rude. Or just crazy.)
• Ja - (Ja know whaddimean?)
• Nein - (Good for shooing away random strangers who want your euros.)
• Ich sprechen eine bisschen Deutsche - (This is what I say to impress the missionaries who ask me if I speak any German. "Bisschen"--little--is an exaggeration.) 
• Sprechen sie Englische? - (Asked this to the owner of a local bakery before I ordered. She said "yes.")
• Keine zwiebeln bitte - No onions please (I didn't want smelly breath after I ate my doner kebab)
• Tschuess - Bye! (It took me forever to figure out how to spell this one so I could look up the actual meaning. Just a casual goodbye).
• Ich bin verloren - I'm lost! Come rescue me! (Well, mostly just the former definition, but the latter was implied. Handy when your landlords only speak German). 
• Haben Sie einen Englisch-Menü? - (The Thai place a couple train stops down the street has one.)
• Genau - Precisely/ Exactly/Correct (I hear this in conversation ALL. THE. TIME. and again, just barely figured out how to spell it.)
• Wie viel kostet das? - (Just in case you're running low on $$$). 
• Haben sie backen pulver?- (I was at a grocery store so obviously they had baking powder. I just couldn't find it.)

I just spent the night with my lovely upstairs English neighbor who is also inconveniently engaged to a man in another country. I feel like a list of English slang should also be forthcoming. But as for now, tschuess!

When life gives you lemons eat burgundy cherries instead

Today was hard in a I-don't-like-the-city-anymore-public-transit-is-awful-can-I-just-be-home-and-in-my-bed-with-some-frozen-yogurt kind of day. Work was good. Fun. Energizing.

But then I left to come home and felt dazed and lost in this big, big place. And the anxiety that steadily climbs in my chest until it rises into tears in my eyes was starting to palpitate in me as I tried to ensure I caught all of the right train connections. I stared at my reflection in the train window as it whizzed through the black tunnel and my face was stony and my eyes a little sunken.

Normally it's fine. Today I wanted to stop thinking.

There was a train accident on my line but I made my connection anyway. I bought myself some overpriced burgundy cherries bursting with juice and didn't bother cleaning them except to shine them on my shirt sleeve and roll them between my thumb and forefinger as if I were doing something other than spreading the germs around. But they were so sweet in my mouth.

A young man came up to me as I waited in the train station and he opened his mouth to ask me something (for something, I presumed). I cut him off: "Nein!"

He looked surprised. I wasn't as soft and sweet as he had estimated. It wasn't until a couple minutes later that I realized how harsh I must have sounded, the language barrier clouding my reaction.

So tonight, tonight I get a little more sleep. I take my allergy pills. And tomorrow, tomorrow I'll eat toast with peanut butter, welcome the sunshine with a smiling face, and properly clean my fruit.

Love notes

Some Love Day clippings from me to you.

I feel like I could have written this article on love at some point in my life. "People will judge you based on how you put your words together." This. is. my. mind!

I discovered the most addictive chocolate candy. Thank you, Germany.

Why freckles and wrinkles are beautiful.

Just the sweetest old people in love. You must watch this. 

These cards satisfy my inner foodie.

My favorite love song this year. Mercer is a poet and an artist.

On my end, it's been a good day. I strolled down the lovers' bridge in Frankfurt during lunch break, snacked on chocolate, and was surprised with a delivery of flowers from a certain man across the ocean. Bonus points for intercontinental delivery.

Die Außenmarkt

Every Tuesday an outdoor market springs up just a short walk away from work. Even in the winter, you can pick up some fresh meat and fresh flowers while you're at it. I didn't buy a brat and fresh apple juice this time around but soon...soon. 

While I was there, I ran into some people I'd seen before...

Lessons learned — Buses and the jar of red stuff

Anne Frank's childhood home

1. I do, in fact, clean the kitchen when I live alone. I sometimes even clean my sheets, vacuum, and make my bed.

2. I desperately want to prove I'm an independent adult capable of living alone in a foreign country. But when I mess up, I'm really, really grateful for someone to call—preferably someone with a car, mandarin oranges, and chocolate. (True story. Some people are so overwhelmingly kind.)

3. Go to the opposite side of the street when catching the bus the opposite way. Also, buses do not wait.

4. Don't give money to every person who really, really needs just one more euro to pay for his train ticket, because by the end of the night, you'll be the one asking.

5. When shopping for spaghetti sauce, do not, I repeat DO NOT purchase a jar with red stuff in it and assume spaghetti sauce just looks a little different in Europe.

6. It's ok to graciously decline when a male acquaintance invites you to go for drinks.

7.  No matter the city or country in which I live, I can always find a pick-up game of volleyball with the local YSA group.

Kilianstädten

Today, to celebrate the clouds rolling away and the new blue sky, I took a stroll through my neighborhood with my "real" camera. It's so quaint I'd call it a village. I leave home when it's still dark so it wasn't until today that I could fully appreciate the cobblestone streets, the red, green, and blue shutters, and the lovely neighboring church. The classic German "post and beam" design is truly everywhere, and the homes are so close together that charming little nooks and alleys are around almost every corner. 

Sprechen sie Englisch?

Welcome to my new blog! About five times a day since I stepped off the plane from Philadelphia and onto the soil of Deutschland I've had the opening phrases of hypothetical posts running through my head. Even jet lag can't dampen my writer's compulsions.

I thought about...

A post about how I left the country less than two days after becoming engaged.
A post about how very, very gray Germany is in the winter.
A post about the day the sun came out.
A post about how Germany is not, in fact, a smaller America abroad; about how very illiterate I now am; about how everyone really does speak German (surprise!), and sometimes exclusively German.
A post about my incredible job and my incredible Church; about how much relationship building and technology advancing goes on behind the scenes.
A post about my fascinating, international coworkers.
A post about how jet lag really whacked me over the head.
A post about German yogurt. Because it's really, really good.

And much more.

So here I am, sitting in a small basement flat in a suburb of Frankfurt, a ring sparkling on my left hand, the last remains of some stubborn jet lag compressing my brain, and a million stories already waiting to be told. It's only been a week.