Amerikanerin in Giessen no longer

I took a walk around the world to ease my troubled mind.
~3 Doors Down – “Kryptonite”

Or more like a train ride around Europe. With classes over, I put my EuRail Pass to good use, and began going everywhere from Rome to Stockholm. But even though I saw a lot, there was still so much I just didn’t get to see. Europe looks small on a map, but there is just not enough time to see it all. And it was a bit of a shock when my pass expired and I was once again limited to free travel within Hesse. Though I theoretically could have traveled around Hesse, I was busy with other things.

With just under two weeks since returning home, it seemed like the right time for an update on my life—a post about the last few days in Germany, my first few days in the U.S., and the process of readjustment to my old life.

My last few days in Germany were filled with a mad dash to get everything packed up, shipped off, or otherwise ready to be thrown out or sent home. Though my room was small, it held a surprising amount of things that needed to be sorted through. And of course, I had to clean the entire room—windows and everything. Because you know those Germans love cleanliness and wouldn’t be giving me back my deposit on the room (a whopping 200€) unless I did. (I’m not joking—the letter I got said they charge 10€ for dirty windows, 30€ for “normal” Verschmutzung, and 60€ for really dirty rooms. That’s a buttload of money just to clean those tiny things, and I wasn’t prepared to be handing back even one cent of that ridiculous deposit.) Unfortunately for me, those bastards at the student housing office don’t give you back your 200€ in cash; only through Überweisung (transfer of money to a bank account). And since I had to close my German bank account that day, they obviously couldn’t send the money there. So instead I had to give them my email where they could tell me my options of how to get my money back. Having had a very limited internet connection since being home, I haven’t been able to check my emails on a regular basis. Though when I did log on to my emails today, I was dismayed to find that I had not yet received any note from the Studentenwerk, and now I’m worried I’ll never get my damn money back—yet another way the Germans have managed to screw me over. But I digress.

I spent the rest of that last day going to the post office to send off the packages of things I couldn’t fit in my suitcase, going to my advisor’s office to hand in my grades, and going to the Ausländerbehörde, only to find out that I was supposed to have gone to the Stadtbüro in order to tell them I was leaving Germany. I needed to go to that office, because, in the words of the guy who was working with me, “If you evah come beck to Chermany, you need zis pay-pah.” I don’t know why he decided to say that one sentence in English when everything else we were saying was in German, but his accent was so cute, that I had to share it.

Even when he handed me the green sheet of paper that I was supposed to hang on to, the reality of leaving Europe hadn’t fully set in. That could have very well been the last time I ever have to deal with German bureaucracy, but in my mind, I somehow felt that sooner or later I would return.

As I could no longer return to my room, I wound up spending much of that evening in my hall’s kitchen, where I watched a lot of TV and took a lot of naps on the couch, just waiting until I could leave for my 4:30 AM train to Frankfurt.

I got to the airport with time enough for the guy at the Air India counter to ask me if I was sure I was on the Air India flight to Chicago, and not the United Airlines flight (what, just because I’m not Indian, I can’t fly Air India and would somehow confuse United for Air India?!), and for the two passport controllers to take their good old time looking through my passport and comment that the pictures in my passport and Aufenthaltserlaubnis were “sweet” (I don’t know if they meant “sweet” in the American form, as in “cool,” or “sweet” in the German form, as in “cute,” but either way I was flattered). Even after checking in, getting through passport and baggage control, and sitting in the waiting area, it still hadn’t hit me that I would soon be in yet another country—and this time, I wouldn’t be coming back via the Deutsche Bahn.

Luckily for me, I hadn’t really gotten much sleep the previous two days, what with all the packing and cleaning, and so I easily fell asleep and stayed asleep for most of the 9 hour flight, waking up more or less refreshed, and ready to start the day and my new life back in my Old Country. I didn’t even have a major jet-lag problem…though it was weird that time seemed to have been suspended or at least really slowed down for about seven hours between the time that I left Germany to the time I arrived in Chicago. The plane left at almost 9 AM German time and got in at around 11 AM Chicago time. So you can imagine the weird tricks such a flight plays on one’s mind.

When I finally got in, I had to wait an hour and a half to get my damn bags back, and go through the passport controller who looked bored out of his skull and the customs agent who didn’t seem to understand English. It struck me as odd that in all the places I went in Europe, people actually spoke a lot of English, but in a country where English is supposed to be a major language, even the customs agents couldn’t seem to understand what I was telling them. This is Chicago O’Hare, is it not? I didn’t oversleep and wind up in India or something, like the guy at the ticket counter in Frankfurt seemed to suggest I might do, did I? Anyway… once I got through the American security people, I was home free, no more to roam, and greeted with the hugs and smiles of loved ones.

It seemed strange to be surrounded by English (well, and Spanish too) again. I had gotten used to being surrounded by either German or foreign languages I didn’t understand, with English only used sparingly in advertisements, and by hostel owners, train personnel, and the like. But even so, it seemed more that I was just temporarily stopping by, than home to stay—like it was another one of my trips.
The reverse culture shock didn’t even really hit me until a few days ago. Though I call it “shock,” I don’t know that that word really classifies what I felt. I don’t know if it was shock or if it was just plain acceptance, moving on to a different stage of life without even thinking much about it. Or perhaps it’s even denial. And it was the same story with coming to Germany. To be honest, I didn’t really think about where I would be going—not before I went to Germany and not now that I’m back at start. I didn’t start thinking about my semester in Germany until the day before I left for the airport. And it’s the same way now. I never really got to the point where I was going crazy with anticipation over all the fun I was supposed to have in my semester abroad, nor did I get really excited about going home.

I’ve had my fair share of ups and downs on this journey in Giessen, which I suppose doesn’t make it any better or worse than anywhere else I’ve lived. People often talk about their study abroad experiences as though they were magically enlightened over the course of a semester and had a hell of a time in the process. So why don’t I feel the same?

I can’t say I hated Germany, though I often let on as if I did. When asked if I would want to come back, I most often said no. Now that I’ve left, I don’t know that I feel the same. It’s as if the two lives, the two worlds, have fused together, and now it’s difficult to sort out where one ends and the other begins. Maybe this was the enlightenment people always talk about? I don’t know… Was this the best semester of my college career? No. But would I do it again? Probably. This poor wayfaring stranger has returned home, and yet longs for the open road once more. Auf Wiedersehen, dear Readers; auf Wiedersehen, Deutschland.

Oh that I was where I would be
Then I would be where I am not
Here I am where I must be
Go where I would, I can not
Oh diddle day, oh diddle lie o day
~American folk song, “Katie Cruel”