An American am Boden See

So I moved to lake Konstance this week (a.k.a. Boden See). The family is new (obvs), the weather is cold and grey, the dialect is crazy, and the people are used to Americans.

Now most of the time in Europe I hide my American identity as best I can. If asked I won't lie. But waving an American flag, or telling everyone you're an American right off the bat is generally a bad idea when your federal government is about to default on its debt ceiling and greatly impact the local economy. Yep, bad idea.

Except for yesterday. Yesterday I was picking up my kid at the bus station when a 10 or 11 year old girl walked up to me to ask if her bus had already been by. I had forgotten the word for schedule ("Plannen") so I had to apologize for not speaking very good German, and when I explained that I came from the U.S.A. her whole demeanor changed. She got that really wide-eyed awe look that only children can pull off, and said "Oh! I love the U.S.A." and then promptly ran away.

So I guess not everyone hates Americans.

Oktoberfest, Visit from Dad, and the new family soon.

Castle Time

I forgot to show you Neuschwanstein! Woops! I went to what is likely the most iconic castle in the world a few weeks ago. This was my second visit, but seeing as it's been 17 years, it seemed reasonable to repeat the experience. The surrounding town is nice, if a little swanky and touristy, so if you want to go play Belle, plan on taking the whole day. The tour is short, and there's not a hell of a lot of detail, so if you happen to speak a language that is not German or English fluently it's worth it to go on the audio tour rather than the guided tour (the audio tour is not offered in German or English because the Universe hates you and assumes you are uninterested in a detailed history of every room). Unfortunately you cannot take pictures inside, so all I have is outside shots, but lovely still.

As seen from well below in town. I may have not seen this for the first 5 minutes we were off the bus until someone pointed it out to me... maybe.

Because it wouldn't be complete without a drawbridge

Waiting for a tour can be surreal, all of the tourists mingle together in the courtyard, lounging around the castle, finally using it the way it was meant to be used.

The inner courtyard

The horrendous view from the balcony

My traveling companions

The whole area is surrounded by wilderness, waterfalls, lakes, mountains, it's crazy

A more famous view of the castle, though my damn lens was just a little too big.

What Living in Europe Feels Like

Following my rejection from Teach for America I developed a defensive mechanism: I don't think about what I've left behind, or where I am or where I'm going. At least not too much. I try to just make simple plans and live my life, and deal with the issue right in front of me. In terms of leaving my life behind, having a bad experience with my first family, and missing my ride to Belgium, this works really well. Unfortunately it also dulls my awe and respect for living in beautiful Bavaria.

But sometimes I'm standing on a train platform, or running away from a thunder storm, or reflexively answering a question in German and the reality of my position becomes abundantly apparent. I'm overcome with this feeling of jubilation and elation. The way you feel when John Williams has been timed perfectly to the emotion of a film. All of the sudden I am completely aware of being in Europe, of living here, of being a German. I don't feel like a tourist, or like I'm just letting my life pass me by. I feel in those brief moments, great. And not in the common sense of the word, but in the Charlemagne, Helen of Troy, Jed Bartlett way. The Kings of Old way. I feel large and powerful and beautiful and clever and unique and perfect. I feel like the best version of myself and I doubt nothing. Then the last few notes of King of Anything or Chip on my Shoulder or Defying Gravity fade and the moment passes. Then I'm an American again, standing like a tourist waiting for a train in a country where we don't speak the language. Walking home at night feels strange again. The angst creeps back in on me. And I wait, for another one of those moments.

This is what it feels like to live in Europe. Or maybe this is just what it feels like to live.

I May Never Get to Belgium

And certainly never with a carshare program. I thought it was a great idea. But after two failed attempts in one week, the second far worse than the first, I am accepting that the Universe does not want me to go to Belgium, so I will stay here.

What happened:

First the ride was three hours late meeting us at this little podunk train station on the opposite side of Munich from where I'm living. I met up with another mitfahrer (rider) early in the wait and we both called several times before finally getting a response that our driver was having car troubles (he said a flat tire), but we ended up having a very enjoyable drink talking about Albania and Portland during our wait.

Then the driver showed up in this Toyota mini bus which he couldn't turn off because it might not start again (refer to the previous claim that the car troubles were to do with a flat tire). Three hours late we were willing to take the ride in front of us. But after picking up a fourth rider from her house (hello, why did I wait for three hours in a distant suburb if you could have picked me up from my house?!) the driver was clearly exhausted, downing three red bulls in the first hour.

Then the car decided, it didn't want to go to Belgium. Nope it wanted to stop working entirely at 3 am on the Autobahn, in a construction zone in the hills, 13 km away from the nearest city.

We waited two hours for a tow which should have taken us to Frankfurt. But... the driver didn't have any insurance so they couldn't tow us to that particular metropolis.

I've forgotten to mention that this uninsured, exhausted, dangerous driver also continuously lied to us. Not just about the flat tire (a.k.a. motor problems!) but also about distance, who he was talking to on the phone, the route we were taking (I think there are probably still two people waiting to be picked up in Stuttgart, who he told to wait and then decided not to pick up and not to tell them at 1 am).

Maybe worst of all is that this was just a job for him, not a friendly "hey, I'm driving to Belgium why don't you come with me?" but a guy who bought a dying car 10 days previously and was using it to caravan people for a 300% mark up on the gas.

From Karlsruhe, where we eventually landed at about 6:30 this morning, I took a train home. I was done. The Universe doesn't want me to go to Belgium, and it must have a reason. I do wish I could see Bruges though.

My Island

In the week when I was trying to figure out whether I ought to stay or go from my first family I spent a good deal of time walking around the area. I stumbled across an island this way, which was large, gorgeous and practically deserted. Perfect for thinking.

What Home has Been

In light of being in Germany, sitting on a couch for the morning, instead of Belgium, exploring a new city, let me show you where I've been the last 3 months.

This is a grocery store. A grocery looks like this.

Another apartment building, just beautifully painted

The center square fountain, in front of the Catholic Church

The Catholic church in town is difficult to get a good image of, but this is the bell tower.

My little Fremont Bridge. I went here often to escape as it looked like a miniature piece of home.

The whole bike path is strewn with lamp posts. It had me thinking of Narnia daily.

The river from a boating dock.

My second favorite bridge. It crossed the dam, which also was beautiful.

Lots of people had secondary garden plots up against the river, with little boat houses and docks attached.

Another church in town, I found a crowded bier hall loud with drunken singing here one night.

That Time I Tried to get to Belgium on the Fly

I really hate not having a solid, no loop-hole plan. If you've known me for anything more than 30 seconds, you know this about me. So that time I quit my job, and decided, yeah, I'll go to Belgium for a week by the cheapest means possible, all within a two week period--well, I think I may have gone a little off my rocker.

This morning I was supposed to catch a ride share to Brussels. The driver wanted to meet at Karlsplatz (which if you don't know Munich, is a huge square in town, with busy streets cutting through it, shopping centers, every kind of Munich public transport, and during Oktoberfest it's swamped with tourists). This was bad decision number one. Instead of making sure he knew what I looked like and I knew what he looked like and we had a clear "we're meeting on this corner at this time and I will be wearing this color" plan; I decided that no, I'll fly by the seat of my pants.

So of course I missed my ride. I actually saw him an hour and a half after we were supposed to meet, driving away to the Autobahn on ramp and looking very angry. Understantable.

But then what did I do? Admit defeat? Go back to the family friends who keep me so well fed? Drop my stuff at the train station and go to Oktoberfest? Wouldn't that have been clever.

Nope. I went to the Reisebuero (travel agency) and asked for directions to an internet cafe, which I couldn't find, but spent a good 20 minutes walking the cobbled streets looking for. I bought a charger for my new cell phone. Which was not the ideal kind of charger, and is also redundant, since I forgot that I brought my American cell phone and charger with and they are packed and perfectly functional in my rucksack. I went and sat in another internet cafe for an hour trying to find another ride for today. But nothing was free and the man who I called three times in a row had to explain to me three times that his car was full. And then I carried my thoroughly beaten butt home (slowly). Listened to funk music (while the guy standing behind me on the S-Bahn kept looking over my shoulder at my song choices). And gave my family friends a good laugh (I mean, I was supposed to be half way to Belgium at that point). Mind you. I did all of this while wearing dress clothes, boots and dragging behind me 45 lbs of clothes, books and camera, all intended for my vacation.

6 hours of waiting and trains and dragging a roller suitcase with one wheel that gets jammed on bumps over cobblestone streets, I'm home and fed and trying to make plans that don't involve me laying on a couch reading instead of visiting a beautiful European city. Hopefully this time with a little more security and experience to back up my choices of transportation and hosts.

Of course there's always that ride to Gent on Wednesday. Yep. I'm totally off my rocker.

Saying Goodbye

I've never known a kid who's good at saying goodbye when it's for more than a few days. Spending an evening with some cousins and their kids last April I said goodbye to my little first cousin once removed and explained that it would be a long while, a year and a half, before we would see each other again. After just one evening of playing together she chased the cab to the end of the block waving goodbye. She wanted to see me tomorrow.

But maybe that's just practice for us as adults, learning to say goodbye on a regular basis to the people we love, without tears or overwhelming sadness.

I left the boys today. In all likelihood, after a few postcards from travel and an email or two clearing up logistics, I will not ever communicate with them again. Of all the things that suck about this situation: I didn't complete my obligation which drives me crazy, Tina is telling people who were my friends that I left because I didn't like the kids, I was happy and comfortable for two days, I was never given the chance to settle in--the worst thing of all is that I grew to love two boys who are not two kids I'm immediately attracted to, but I worked hard on our relationship and now I will probably never see them again.

I will not be sharing this blog with Tina and Mike or the boys, not directly. But one can always google, so maybe one day they'll find it. If they do, I hope they understand that I didn't walk out that door easily or painlessly. I hope that they understand I made the decision for them as much as for myself. And I hope they see that the reasons they give to everyone else, and likely to themselves, for my leaving are false. I hope. But I don't believe.

Belgium tomorrow.

Ellbow

Why Gossip With Your Neighbors Is A Good Thing

I've been in Germany all of 2.5 months, and I just now had my first, non-awkward, open conversation with the neighbors. Until today I tried not to intrude on any of them. But sometimes a nice lady comes to your door because the kids just got picked up (#notagain), and offers you a coffee. A much better prospect than packing my "not going to Belgium" suitcase.

And so we coffeed and chatted. Within 3 minutes the conversation began to center around why I'm leaving. As I feared, my host mother is going around spreading the world that I had issues with the kids, didn't like them because they were so young, and have decided to leave in order to work with a family with older children. Let me state now for the record that that is in my opinion a total and complete falsehood. Though in giving her the benefit of the doubt I'm hoping this is Tina's version of positive spin for her.

For me it's hurtful and degrading. It makes it sound like this was my idea, that I initiated it, and like I've been miserable for the last 2.5 months. My truth: Tina came to me, she initiated it. I decided to leave because I felt (FEEL) misunderstood and even more than that, I feel that they don't WANT to understand me. And I didn't have a clue what I would be doing at the time I decided to quit. I thought I might go work with horses. That I will be with another family is a result of independent thought, not a reflection of my current situation.

On the bright side I was repeatedly backed up by both neighbors about everything: the parents personality, the kids behavior problems, that they don't need an Au Pair, that they haven't given me a proper chance, that this is both strange and unjust in terms of employer-employee decorum, and that I am not the problem. There's a part of me that feels bad, listening to others talk about my family and adding to that conversation. But there's a part of me that also feels relief. For the third time I have been fully supported by people who are objective partakers in my leaving. I am starting to know more than just believe, that I am not the problem here.

Now gossiping with neighbors is dangerous and can lead to bad blood, so I'm thinking I won't be sharing this blog with Tina and Mike. Ever. But if you're having an issue or feeling admonished or defeated or disrespected, speaking with the neighbors can give you an objective opinion that is not based around social decorum and subjective support, but honest feelings from people who see you live your life every day. Especially when these people are Germans. Germans don't give a damn about hurting your feelings with brutal honesty. Who'd waste their time with that?

The Costs and Bennefits of Giving Notice

For me, deciding to leave was the end to a week of stress, self-doubt and tea. Having gone over and over what Tina had said to me about her doubts in my relationship with the family I was left feeling like the family didn't understand me as an individual and wasn't going to try to. Quitting gave me relief from all of this. 13 more days of being so entirely incomprehensible to the people I live with? Fine, I can handle that.

However I think my decision threw them for a loop. We decided on an end date nearly 4 weeks out. The first few days everything was the same. The boys didn't know yet so we definitely played it cool all day. And at night we all had things to do which kept us preoccupied. Then they left for a week of vacation. On coming back all of their behaviors changed, and not all for the better.

The boys know I'm leaving now (they were told without me and without warning me), and it hasn't changed them so much other than they're sad about it. Two weeks is an eternity when you're 3, but we'll see what it's like when it's 2 days, or a couple of hours.

Tina is really excited for this new opportunity, and seems more comfortable having me here when my length of stay is more akin to a guest than a family member. But she's also become much less obliging and eager to participate in my current life, and more willing to make requests of me (FINALLY). She no longer wants to go with me to the visa office. I'm taking the bus there today, by myself without warning her, though she had previously insisted she would drive me (also they were going to pay the 100 Euros for the visa and now I am. It's fine, but another behavior change). With regards to the cell phone and health insurance she's also standoffish even when I ask explicitly for her help.

Mike, in contrast to all, has become rather distant and terse. It's a professional relationship with him now, not friendly at all, but it makes the breakfast table a little awkward.

For my part I'm doing my best to be consistent with everyone. From the beginning I avoided having a "honeymoon phase" but tried to be honest about what my behavior would be like, who I am, and how my personality works in this family. I'm glad for that now, though at the beginning I could feel Tina waiting for the other shoe to drop, like if I would stop making my bed, or keeping stuff clean, or picking up after the boys, or reading bed time stories. I haven't stopped yet and I'm not planning to in the next few days. To the befuddling of Tina and Mike.

What I'm left wondering is a) what they expected me to do? (I certainly felt like they had pressured me into quitting and just refused to fire me, forcing me to make the call); b) if the behavior changes are a result of me quitting or me leaving?; and c) if they still would have acted this way if it was 7 months from now and I was getting ready to leave as we had planned?

13 days to go. Then travel, a visit from my dad, and a new family.