Das alles ist Deutschland: 2011

Twenty-eleven doesn't really ring as nicely as twenty-ten...but if beginnings are any indication of what's to come, this is going to be a good year.
Feeling more inspired than usual, I will warn you that this post is 1) not very exciting (there was no trip to Prague or anywhere "fabulous") and 2) is primarily written for my sake, rather than yours.
An ordinary day, by my standards, filled with a touch of boredom and longing, became very suddenly a reminder that each day here, mundane or thrilling, is actually extraordinary in the scope of my experiences...or those of many, I suppose.
I slept in much too late, watched some meaningless television, cleaned a little around the house, became restless and decided to take a walk. My roommate, Elly, came along. We walked down our little river, deposited our glass in the the proper color receptacles, went to our favorite cafe for the afternoon coffee and cake. There we saw our favorite waitress from across the street, a student of mine, and a few friendly, familiar places. We walked up to the local park, and then Elly returned home to continue studying. As the sky began to explode with the colors of postcards and watercolor paintings, I decided to climb our little berg and watch the sun set over Eislingen. It was here that I had my sudden surge of life and appreciation that I so often lose here in the routine of every day life. If time capsules could hold moments, this would be a precious moment for me. I did not take a picture, because sometimes the photo dulls the reality not only in the splendor of the image, but of the moment. Unfortunately, the only time capsule that I will have is a memory of a very pleasant moment. A sunset. A bubbling up of emotion and fondness for my youth, my health, my wealth of experiences and memories that are happening here. And as I watched the sun set, I mentally composed cheesy prose about the fleeting moments in which we live and our inability to see in the clarity of the moment, blah blah blah. But there is a certain wisdom to these moments. There is a new found clarity after one has one of these amazing moments. And though these moments seem to be rare, I am lucky to constantly discover things here, making these moments abroad much more common than at home.
After this, I will play my flute, and then have some wine with my roommate before joining some friends for a quiet night of movies...and the introduction of NFL to my German friends. If I have to sit through handball (since they all play), they at least pretend to be excited to watch the Packers in the play-offs.
And speaking of this cultural exchange. I want those of you still reading to know (again) that I am not alone, here. Thanks to my amazing roommate and some too-good-to-be-true friends I have made, my boredom has recently reached a lull. How will I ever leave these amazing people behind? Can I be here and home, too? What if I just hide out here for a while longer? I know the answers to some of these questions, but for now I will just keep running full speed ahead until I reach the cliff known as "the end" and make some choices.
I am sending you all my warmest thoughts and wishes. And know that as much as I am feeling the honey-moon effect right now in Eislingen, I think about everyone at home often. Your pictures litter my walls, and just knowing I have so much support at home keeps me from being homesick.

But to reward you for reading so many of my wandering thoughts, I will conclude this blog with photos from last Sunday's hike. I took a bus to Offenberg with my roommate, Peter Ritz, Bruno, Joe, Uli, and a collegue of Bruno's. We hiked three hours through the rain to the top of Rechberg, where they had ordered a goose from the Polish restaurant. Though my meat-eating days are sort of over, I partook in the white-gloved ceremony of drinking and eating at the top of this berg with great company and lots of laughs. I could only take photos for so long, since it was dark when we reached the top, but here's a taste...