“The Atlantic was born today and I’ll tell you how.” - Part I

[NOTE: I am very sorry about the delayed post regarding my arrival in Germany. I have had loads of Internet / computer problems which should (hopefully) soon be done for good. Pictures will be added when time is available.]

Where to begin? I guess where I left off. Mom, Dad, and I made it to Chicago in plenty of time despite the bad weather. After checking in my luggage, the line to get past security was rapidly growing, so it was time for me to depart from my parents. I tried not to show any outward sadness at our departure, but when my parents started to cry, so did I. After quickly gaining my composure, I made it through the rest of the events at O’Hare uneventfully and boarded the plane, which left at 3:45 PM CST. My plans for the flight were to listen to music, study German, and sleep. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to do much at all of the latter two, but the flight still went relatively quickly. Surprisingly, although I felt some excitement listening to various songs and thinking about what was ahead of me, my primary sensation for much of the flight was an upset stomach which actually wasn’t that bad. I am not sure if I lacked emotion because I was numbing myself in preparation for things to come or because I felt that things would work out one way or another.

In any case, I arrived in Frankfurt at 11:55 PM CST. My plans for Frankfurt were as follows: pick up my luggage, find the bus station, and take a bus to Darmstadt.

Having landed in Germany, without a cell phone and not really knowing any of the language, I was pretty tense, and every step I took brought me further away from my family and friends and further into the uncomfortable unknown. I found and picked up my luggage with no problem and proceeded to find the bus station also with no problem. Finding the correct bus was a different story entirely, however. There was no central information desk or attendant at the bus station, and the bus station was almost completely empty, so it up to me to read the signs and figure things out. But, since I was unable to do this even with the help of a German-English dictionary, I sought the help of a young German family, some of the only people around, but they didn’t speak any English whatsoever. They were, after much effort, able to tell me to wait for a certain bus that would arrive in several minutes and take me where I needed to go. Upon boarding the bus, I asked the Greek bus driver (just to be safe) if this bus would take me to Darmstadt, and he informed me that I had boarded the wrong bus (although I had followed the family’s instructions accurately). The driver told me to look for a specific bus at a different stop, so I set out in search of the new stop.

As I was unable to find this new stop, I sought the assistance of a nearby (and different) bus driver and got absolutely nowhere with him. Prior to my not-really-a-conversation with the second bus driver, I felt that I had achieved at least the illusion of understanding in each of my previous conversations. After several failed attempts to make my needs known to the second bus driver, he left me abruptly in frustration. I was completely alone. Throughout all of my previous encounters at the bus station, my nervousness had been building, so eventually I was cursing myself for not having the discipline to learn at least the most basic of German before I arrived, the government for not having a better organized transportation system, and the German people for not knowing English. I wanted to go home but knew that I shouldn’t. I couldn’t let myself fail so completely this early in the journey. I mostly just wanted to escape, from my situation, from my feelings, and from my inadequacies, but I couldn’t.

So I just kept moving forward and happened across the place I believed that I was supposed to be, but I could never be too sure. There was no bus to be seen and no visible markings denoting Darmstadt but I waited anyway, sitting on a bench at an empty outdoor McDonalds. An old man sat on a bench next to me and I (vainly, I thought) asked him if he knew where the bus was going in my best German (after my English failed) and he told me that the bus went to Darmstadt. I was very relieved and put a lot of faith that the old man understood me and knew what was going on. I don’t know how I would have felt or what I would have done if he had not been completely right, but he was (and thank God). All told, my search for the correct bus took an hour and a half.

The bus ride from Frankfurt to Darmstadt was obviously encouraging, and I took the thirty minute bus ride to snap pictures of the countryside. The plan for once I had arrived in Darmstadt was to call Regine Schneider, my PhD supervisor from the transit station, from where she would pick me up in fifteen minutes after my call. Luckily, the bus had taken me to the desired place and luckily the facility had a central information desk. While the attendant did not speak any English, one of her friend coworkers did speak Spanish, so I was able to get the information I needed to get to right place in the facility and use the payphone correctly. Who would have thought that I would have used Spanish in Germany for information? Based upon that short exchange, I decided that working in a Spanish-speaking country would have been a hell of a lot easier for me, but it was a little late for that. Mostly I was thankful to be able to get a hold of Regine. The whole day thus far seemed to be an exhausting, emotional roller coaster of highs and lows, but my day was far from over and many more set-backs and triumphs would follow....