Fruehling

I regret to inform you that this post will be written under the influence of one of the worst sicknesses I've had in a long time. It's common around these parts, and during this time of year almost everyone is afflicted. It results in a weakened heart and restless legs (please don't confuse with restless leg syndrome), a wandering mind and fidgety hands. Yes, I am sorry to say that I am suffering from a severe case of spring fever.

In order to help my case, I've decided to celebrate some of the joys of this time of year. Simple things like the itchy hotness that comes from wearing a coat that was too hot for the day, finally! Signs of Spring that we all may know, but that never fail to surprise us after we wake watery-eyed from our winter rests.

Thunderstorms. For me, there is nothing better than to sit on someone's porch and look out at a storm. This weekend we had a pretty terrible wind storm. It was the closest thing that I've seen to a good American thunderstorm in Germany so far. I was stuck in the middle of the train station: trains were stopped, people stranded (including myself), umbrellas turned inside out--general panic ensued. But it was such a great distraction! To look out, see farm animals blowing by, and remember so fondly the treacherous American weather. In general, Germany's weather is just boring in comparison to the plethora of storm systems we have in the land of the free . It's not great, not horrible, just gray and dull. But ohh!--the energy of that storm—a great contrast to the monotony of winter life! Got me excited for more to come as the skies get warmer.

The Moon. Tonight, riding home from dinner with a dim bike light, I had a lot of trouble making out curb vs. street vs. dog...it was a bit scary riding through the quiet, windy streets. Along the stretch that carries on into the woods, I noticed the moon. I didn't just notice the moon, actually, I almost fell off of my bike for the size of it. I felt like howling! I was drawn along the road as if I was swept up in the wake of a star blazing across the sky. I barely noticed my pedals moving as I weaved in the sidewalk to catch a better view.

As this giant moon balanced on top of my German life shining light on my ride home, I was truly transfixed. I looked up at the rest of the stars in the sky, the same ones you all see, and smiled. I smiled! How wonderful it was to sit under the moon and smile like a little kid. To know that Germany didn't exist just to torture me, but that life under the moon belonged to everyone. That the moon has shone on all humans, on all problems, on all countries for all time. There was a chill in the air and freshness in my lungs. It was a good night for standing under the moon and feeling small.

Spring does these things to me. It makes me want to boogie, it makes me want to smile more, and it makes me want to just high five everyone I come across. I often find myself thinking things like “Well isn't it great to just be alive!”, or “Let's just all sing love songs together!” The sun shines brighter, people start looking less hairy and gray, and in general the world starts living up to its potential.

Public Transportation Part One

I've decided that it is essential for you to understand my relationship with modes of transportation other than the bike, for they are a fundamental part of my life here. So I have a series of posts prepared to inform you on just how I get around this place.

Transportation in general has always been an issue for me. I can't name the number of times we've had to stop the car on the way to Grandma's so I could barf out the window. I get wheezy when I run, and I am one of the slowest walkers I know. (You guys already get it with the bike situation.) So it is no question that subjecting myself to other modes of transportation that not only depend on my ability to successfully move, but also the coordination of a whole group of people, always results in frustration.

Why the Bus and I aren't friends:

Bus Schedules:

Each bus stop has a chart that is supposed to be catered to humans of normal intelligence. I consider myself a smart person...at least average...but I could stand in front of that stupid post for an hour before I would actually be able to draw some sort of information about WHEN the bus comes. I am reminded of those "Seeing Eye" puzzles, where if you just stand there for a while, the right arrival time will just pop out at you like the hot air balloon in those pictures. I can't even begin to describe how hard it is to find out WHERE the bus is going. That information, I am pretty sure, is given out at secret bus rider meetings that I am obviously not invited to.

Bus Riders:

All of that is not to mention that once you get ON the bus, you have to fight to keep your lunch down among the smelly public and jostling seats. I will not be shy about the fact that I consider myself one of the best-bathed people walking around this place, especially when we're talking about bus riders. I wish it were that my cleanliness would rub off on them, but alas it is their stank that I absorb and take with me wherever I go for the rest of the day.

On top of that, I am usually the only one on the bus who isn't under the assumption that pushing and shoving should be a part of every day life. I feel sometimes as if I've just been through a rock polisher or some other machine that involves lots of jostling and bumping after I get off the bus. (And bad breath is much easier to smell in a confined, bumpy environment.)

Buses:

Have you ever ridden a bus? I am not going to pretend that buses in Germany are worse than anywhere else. Its just that I have to ride these awful dinosaurs so frequently in this country that I am exposed to their flaws much more often. Specifically, the buses in Dinslaken, where I live, must be part of some living museum exhibition they have going on over here. The vehicles are sometimes so dirty that its impossible to see out the window, the seats are taped together with duct tape (the only use for duct tape I have noticed here), and the smell has the potency of, well an ancient bus. I almost have to charge against the force of the thick smell of old polyester seats, diesel, BO, and whatever else you care to imagine is probably on the floor or under the seats.

So in my opinion, the are really only a few reasons why you should ride the bus willingly, and none of them involve transportation: to keep your intellectual ego in check, to feel better about your hygienic status, to feel real human contact (albeit in the form of mild violence), or to feel like a hero after surviving a harrowing experience riding through town.