Things I Must Get Un-Used To

Well, I'm back. This will be my final post here on the "Squirrel Blog."

There have been a lot of emotions over the past week and a half. I had the opportunity to visit England and Denmark the week before our flight to the United States, so my "leaving Germany" emotions were dampened first by thoughts of "I'm visiting London, I must enjoy London," and later the stressed out knowledge that I, "Must pack, must be under the weight limit, must get on the plane." Interesting times. My first day in London was a constant realization that I was no longer in EP6 and that my daily German soundtrack was missing. It was really hard.

In my last weeks there, I started compiling a list of the things I'd have to get un-used to once I returned to the States. It is as follows, in no particular order:

• The 24-hour clock and the way Europeans prefer "half past" and "ten 'til" to "three thirty" and "four fifty."
• DD.MM.YY. Everything I write now is dated this way, and the transition is not going to be pretty.
• Open windows. Already in the States I've had to put on sweats because of the chill of air conditioning.
• Writing the number 1. My German class in the spring forced me to write European-style 1's, and I kept up the habit once I arrived. Now I'm not sure if I will switch back or not.
• Looking nice everyday. Females in Europe do not wear t-shirts. As the Jedi said when I informed him of this, "it is not forbidden," but it is definitely not a thing. Because of this, I've spent my summer thinking more about my wardrobe than t-shirt and jeans. It's been nice.
• A lack of that. German only has one word referring to a thing in front of you, and it translates to this. There is no second word that would be the equivalent of that, and so most native German speakers use only this in English conversation. It is so prevalent that I found that slipping out of my own vocabulary during the summer and had to work to retain it.
• Walking everywhere and feeling completely safe while doing it. Not to mention public transportation.
• German. I hadn't even gotten on the plane from Frankfurt to London and I was missing the constant swirl of German around me. By the end of my summer, I was making significant progress in understanding at least the idea of German conversations, and one of my biggest worries upon returning is that I'm going to lose that momentum.
• German keyboards. I'm used to my laptop being the English keyboard, but every time I sit down at a desktop computer, I get my y's and my z's backwards. Not to mention the different placements of quotation marks, apostrophes, semi-colons, and hashtags.
• What-you-see-is-what-you-get prices. In Europe, the tax is included in the label price, so what you see is what you pay at the register. When I bought breakfast in JFK airport on Friday, I was so confused by the additional cents added to my purchase.
• Change in 0.20. The Euro has twenty-cent pieces, not twenty-five, so I've spent the whole summer calculating change with that in mind. I've already discovered it's harder than you would think to get used to quarters again.
• Seeing the news. While in Germany, I got most of my news from a quick glance over my Facebook news feed and the trending corner. About every ten days I would go to my preferred news site and get more official information. But there has been some culture shock coming to the States where all the TVs are blaring CNN and all the newspapers have headlines I can actually read. I could go all philosophical on this, but I'll stop and just say it's weird being so inundated.
• An inability to read. Now that I'm in America, I can read all the things. Signs, menus, labels. It's weird. You kind of realize how much you didn't really need to know.
• A lack of small talk. The best part about being back in an English-speaking country is the ability to make small talk. I can chat with the barista, the waitress, the person in line beside me. It was one of the things I missed most in Germany {that, and Tex-Mex, and yes, I've already remedied that}.
• Group lunches and the following coffee break. I honestly don't know how I'm going to handle having lunch by myself. And what about those coffee breaks, where we discuss anything and everything and occasionally science? There is little hope of a replacement for either here {college life is too busy for such communal things}, especially since the people that made them so great are so far away. :(

I'll spare you the sappy blog post {and save it for my personal blog}, but in answer to your next question: Yes, I enjoyed my summer in Germany, every single aspect of it. I got to travel and see cool and historical sights, but my favorite part was my lab experience--and I'm not just saying that! You can ask Miquela; I was so excited to go to "work" every morning. My research was exciting and full of questions to answer...and my labmates were kinda the best, if you haven't figured that out already. :) It was a summer I won't forget, and I'm beyond grateful for the opportunity to have experienced Physics In Germany.

The Best Worst Decision Ever

Early this summer, our group sat down together and discussed our available weekends and how to spend them. Everyone had at least one must-do. One of mine was a bike trip. I was in Europe, and I would take an overnight bike trip in Europe. This was not up for debate.

There was much discussion about who was going, where we were going, which route we were taking, and where we would sleep. As the "Bike Trip" weekend neared, it was down to just Numa--who will be biking to Alaska next summer as part of Texas 4000--and myself.

     One of my labmates, The Coffee Boss, asked where we were going. "To Lohr," I told him, "but only for the day, and then we'll come back and bike somewhere else the next day."
     "Why are you not spending the night?" he asked.
     "Because all the hostels were full."
     He nodded in understanding, but then, when I told him it was only Numa and myself going, he said, "Oh, well if it's only the two of you, I have a tent you can borrow."

we have a tent.
p/c: numa

And that is how we came to bike to Lohr with a tent strapped to the back of my rented bike, and blankets to the back of Numa's. It was a great tent. I have never set up a tent before {I have never slept in a tent before}, but we managed this one quite easily, even if the instructions were in German.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. First we need to leave Würzburg.

departing würzburg. 

our first break.
p/c: numa

We stopped for a picnic lunch. Lunch on the Main. Numa's first encounter with what turned out to be Urtica Dioica, known affectionately throughout the trip as "the stinging plant."

view from lunch.

 Our next break was for swans {and a seesaw, and a boat}. This was also Numa's second encounter with the stinging plant.

swan break.

That Time We Didn't Take the Shortcut

Somewhere in here, we tried to take a shortcut. I say tried, because our attempt was unsuccessful. For a couple reasons.

1. I am extremely skeptical of the word 'short-cut,' so even though Numa had planned it out and it had been recommended to me by the Opinionated Romanian, I wasn't too keen on it.
2. We couldn't find the bike route of said short-cut, only a highway.

I realized afterwards that short-cut or no, these were the only directions Numa had written down. Thus, we had only a map and a set of directions no longer applicable as we continued on the long route. {And no, we didn't have Google maps.}

we also stopped to take pictures in fields like this.
p/c: numa

Our lack of directions wasn't too big of a deal. After all, as the Opinionated Romanian had informed us earlier, "There are signs everywhere. If you can't follow the signs, you probably shouldn't be on a bike." And he was right. There are a TON of signs. Every intersection has a white sign with a green bike and a green arrow {usually directing you to continue straight ahead}.

Well, almost every intersection.

That Time There Was No Sign & We Got Lost In a Cornfield

lost on a gravel road.
p/c: numa

One particular intersection had no sign. So we went straight. We ended up with a cornfield to one side, the river to another, and gravel beneath us. We stopped. We agreed that something wasn't right.

• This doesn't feel right.
• No, it doesn't. I don't know where we are.
• Me neither. There was no sign.
• No, there wasn't. What do we do now?
• I don't know. Do you want a cookie?
• Yes. 

we made it to Lohr.

We eventually backtracked 30 meters, crossed the bridge that had confused us to begin with, and hung out there for a while as Numa iced her stinging leg and I searched for signs. Turns out, we were not yet in the town {Gemuenden} we thought we were in. Which was good. We could keep going. Oh, by the way, that compass app on your phone? Totally useful on a bike trip.

It was somewhere around this point where Numa informed me that this bike trip was the "worst best decision ever." She was right, on all counts.

It took us nine hours {more than twice as long as predicted}, but we made it to our desired campground in Lohr. We acquired some Radler, set up our tent with minimal trouble, and rested. I attempted to stretch my legs out and ended up in a great deal of pain. During the ride, my muscles hadn't protested--my posterior, on the other hand...--so I was surprised to finally get off the bike and find myself in what I told Numa was pain "worse than orthodontia." {Which, considering the fact that my prolonged and necessary orthodontic experience may be at the top of my pain list, is rather impressive.} Knowing that walking was better than sitting, we ventured into the town of Lohr.

tent accomplished.
p/c: numa

The Coffee Boss had informed us prior to the trip that there was a beer fest going on. He was close but not quite right; it was something along the lines of Würzburg's Kiliani Volksfest, what we would call a fair. It was smaller than Kiliani, but with just as much bright, noisy chaos and clamor. My lab group had informed me that I'd missed out at Kiliani by not getting any chocolate-covered fruit--"the only reason to go to Kiliani"--so we thought we'd make up for it here.

chocolate-covered apples

Sleeping. My first time to sleep in a tent. Given the lush grass conditions of Germany--they have this thing called rain--and the fact that I'd biked 60 kilometers, I had a pretty pleasant night.

Of course, we first had to go to sleep to the sound of the beer tent from the fair. We could hear the band and the people, and if our experience at Kiliani was any sort of clue, our bedtime in Lohr was right about when the party was starting. Party, in this case, means loud, fun, German music, and lots of standing on tables, singing loudly, and drinking plenty of beer. It sounded familiar, like home or something.

Then there were the fireworks. I disentangled myself from my Snuggie--ahhh! agony! please, Advil, work quickly!--and poked my head out of the tent flap to see if they were visible. They were not, but, as I told Numa, the sound of fireworks is one of my favorites given all the good memories to which I have it attached. Another sound that feels like home. It was a nice way to fall asleep.

We were awakened sometime later by the sound of German fest-goers returning to the campsite. Believe it or not, the sound of the German language has quickly become a reassuring sound to me. It is the sound of a coffee break, a lunch break, a quick trade of perovskite notes, a phone call...it is the sound of my friends, of people with whom I feel safe and safe to be myself. So waking in the middle of the night up to German, even drunk German, is not a bad feeling.

That Time There Were Mice Under Our Tent

I woke up with the sunlight outside...and movement...of something...beside me. Honestly, the first time it happened, I was still too asleep to bother worrying. But the second time, I started thinking things through. It is one thing to feel...it is another to hear the rustling and see the fabric of the tent floor flutter.

"Numa!"

I waited another twenty-or-so minutes before trying again. "Numa!"

She spoke to the wall of the tent. "What?"

"There are mice under our tent."

She whipped around to face me. "You better not be serious that there are mice under our tent."

And she was so serious that I said, "No, no, there are no mice under our tent."

Of course, the problem was that there were mice under the tent, and after that point we were both inching away from the rustlings, toward each other, until neither of us had room to move further. So we woke up and tried not to think about squashed mice.

They were gone when we packed up the tent. No sign of mice, squashed or otherwise.

That Time We Took the Shortcut

Since neither of us were looking forward to another 9-hour biking day, we decided to take the aforementioned shortcut. It took us ten minutes to face a confusing stack of signs, all pointing in different directions and none directing us to our desired destination: Karlstadt. We debated, pored over the map, consulted the compass, and looked so lost that after about ten minutes, a jogger asked if we needed help. He pointed us toward Gemuenden and said we'd just bike all along the river.

Skeptical that this was yesterday's long route, we followed his advice. The trail eventually led us to more signs, one of which pointed away from the river and into a forest--toward Weisenfeld, a town on our short-cut. So we went.

That Time We Biked Uphill In a Forest In the Rain

in the forest.

I assumed this forest path would last ten minutes. It lasted longer. It lasted uphill. It lasted through a rainshower. I wasn't crazy enough to attempt riding up the hill; I walked the bike, and instead of my thighs, my calves screamed. This was also when Numa's bike decided that rain was not worth the effort, forcing her to walk up, as well. {Also, stinging plant encounter number three.}

• [after rounding another curve] Um...
• What?
• It keeps going up.
• Please be kidding.
• I'm not kidding.
  

  

  log bridge over a stream, in the forest
  p/c: numa

Granted, the views within the forest were like something out of The Jungle Book, and the views post-climb were kinda worth the agony.

view from the top.

That Time We Lost the Bike Trail

Finally, we coasted about halfway down the hill and finally arrived in Wiesenfeld. We'd made it! We were about halfway through the shortcut to Karlstadt, and it seemed time to rejoice.

Except...the bike trail disappeared. We killed at least thirty minutes in that town looking for it. Oh, there were highway signs to Karlstadt {and the nearer Karlburg}, but no bike signs. Not one. Also, it rained. Again. Have you ever biked up and down a town looking for a bike trail in the rain? I don't necessarily recommend it. Especially if you just finished an unexpectedly long journey through a forest up a hill in the rain.

that elevation. no. just...no.

That Time We Walked 2km On the Highway, In the Rain, Uphill

We decided to take the highway. We didn't have much other option--we had to get home, and we knew this would take us there. The highway was uphill, and we couldn't bike fast enough uphill to keep up with traffic, so we walked. Did I mention it was raining?

We walked that highway for two kilometers. In the rain.

That Time We Attempted Another Bike Trail

And then we saw bike trail signs. A bike trail crossed the highway. Noting the directions, we decided to take one. Yet another gravel road...and then it turned the wrong way. After about a minute on the trail, we called a halt.

• This doesn't feel right.
• No, it doesn't. I don't know where we are. 
• Me neither. I don't know where this is going.
• Me neither. What do we do now?
• I don't know. Do you want a cookie?
• Yes. 

We stopped and had cookies in the rain. And then we went back to our highway.

That Time We Coasted Down 2km, On the Highway, In the Rain, Downhill

At least this time, we were heading downhill.

Maybe not so great, considering the wet roads and the rented bikes.

I won't say much about this for fear of terrifying the parents, but we coasted down 2 kilometers worth of highway in the rain. It was nuts. Not recommended, but it gives a person something to write home about {or not, depending on the condition of one's parents' respective hearts}.

And then we were in Karlburg. Karlburg is just a bit north of Karlstadt, and, like Karlstadt, it is on the Main river. That means it's on the bike trail. We were back on familiar ground. We stopped at a picnic table in Karlstadt for a snack-lunch of Pringles, cookies, dried fruit, crackers, and pretzels. The sun came out.

That Time Our Adventures Weren't Over

We were now retracing our steps from the day before, heading toward Würzburg. There were even signs for our home city! We were in the clear, things were looking up--

It started pouring.

sun and rain. sehr schön.

soaked and having an adventure.

We considered seeking shelter. We decided against it, hoped our phones would stay dry in our backpacks, and kept riding. Other bikers and walkers laughed at us as we raced past their hiding places. We laughed at ourselves. And kept riding.

{We may or may not have missed one sign and decided to bike into a forest. Like...smack dab into a forest. We had to turn around.}

The sun came out before the rain stopped, and I risked my phone to take pictures of the beauty that is rain and sunshine.

That Time We Made It Back

And then we were back in Würzburg. Familiar sights gave way to familiar streets, which gave way to familiar food: döner. We parted ways in the city, and I took my soaking wet self back to my apartment, where I took the best shower of my life and proceeded to drape the Coffee Boss' tent across my tables to dry {which it did}.

And that is the story of the "Bike Trip," the Best Worst Decision Ever.

Distances According to Google:

Day 1: 60.4 km = 37.3 mi

Day 2: 45 km = 28.0 mi

Total: 105 km = 65.3 mi

Of course, it was more than that given the backtracking and turning around. So this is a very conservative estimate.

*I don't think I've mentioned The Coffee Boss before. He's one of my many awesome labmates who always has a smile for me and an invitation to some sort of ep6 social event. We don't interact much in the lab, but I've always been honored by his not forgetting me when it's time to eat or "break." He is called The Coffee Boss because he holds the record for drinking the most coffee in ep6 {we keep track of these things} and thus gets the distinguished honor of drinking from the "Coffee Boss" mug.