Get ready for a weeklong update. Here goes...
Parisians - they dress well, smoke too much, and stay up really late. They also put up with a lot of bad French and sometimes will share their umbrellas with you at the Bastille Day parade.
As I sat in Subway (as in sandwiches, not metro) near my hostel on Wednesday, I was beginning to think that the monsoon followed me here. The streams of water flowing down both sides of the street and the rain coming down so hard that the cleared the streets of people on the French National holiday were very reminiscient of just over a week ago when I was in India.
My first couple days in Paris were pretty relaxed. After a nap on Monday afternoon, I started to put my unlimited one week metro pass to good use. I rode over to near the Louvre and walked along the Seine towards the Champs-Élysées, remembering that familiar area near the Latin Quarter that I had spent time in last time I was here in Paris four years ago. I reintroduced myself to French bread and chocolate croissants, did a lot of window shopping, and walked myself silly. Since my days seem to revolve around food, I headed back to the area near my hostel and picked out a little Italian restaurant looking out on la Place de la République. From what I've seen here, I think that people sitting alone at restaurants actually have some of the best views at dinner. The front of the restaurants usually has outdoor cafe seating, with tables for two at the front. I was definitely not the only one eating alone, and I tried to take my cues on "dining for one" from the other seasoned lookig veterans around me. Good things that I picked up on from the bald man and the lady with the sun umbrella sitting near me: bring a book and have it open on the table or in your lap - obviously you don't have to read it, but if you want to, take a break about every half page to stare thoughtfully off into the distance, (since those French romance novels clearly require a lot of thought). Also, take as long as possible to order and eat each course and then wait to pay the bill until after the waiter comes back a fourth or fifth time. The first course should consist of wine and free table bread, and will also require a lot of serious thinking and twirling the wine glass in your hand as you stare longingly off into the distance. For the last course, get a tiny cup of coffee, and even though it should be served steaming hot, you should probably wait as long as possible, maybe 20-30 minutes, preferably until it is ice cold, to take a sip. These two single diners that I observed truly showed me the art of eating a slow meal.
The hostel that I stayed at seemed somewhat aged compared to the one in Frankfurt. The narrow, winding staircase that leads up the middle of the hostel is surrounded by walls that look a little crumbly and a little railing that couldn't possibly prevent anyone from falling down the tiny stairs. The room was fine, although I really enjoyed sharing a four-person room with one other person in Frankfurt. I don't know if anyone in my room spoke English, and if they did, they didn't to each other. I briefly met an old Brazilian man and there was a Korean guy who I never saw awake when I was there. There are also what I think were a couple German backpackers across the room. We all shared a key to the room which had to be taken by the last person to the desk when we are all gone, and there was nowhere to lock up our things in the room, so the backpacker's unspoken code of trust is what we were all going on I guess.
On Tuesday morning, I met up with a friend Stefanie from school and her sister Anne and cousin Annelie at the Rodin Museum. We spent the morning seeing Rodin's sculptures, followed by the traditional French lunch of a baguette and cheese in the garden. After a day of only speaking French, which was a great challenge for myself, it was nice to relax and share travel stories and laugh at ourselves in English. After lunch, we took advantage of our discounted price to the Musée d'Orsay that we got with our first museum ticket. Even though I had already been to the Orsay, it was still amazing to see it all again, this time being able to take my time as I went through. I had forgotten how huge and incredible the train station turned museum was, and we probably spent close to four hours in there with Monet, Dégas, Manet, Van Gogh, Rénoir, Cassat, and more. Anne and Annelie seemed to be more interested and knowledgeable art enthusiasts, and so Stef and I went through the museum on our own a little more lightheartedly, making up stories for and taking turns interpeting what was going on in the paintings. It was probably the most fun I've ever had in a museum and I'm sure that I laughed more than was appropriate and annoyed the serious museum goers that were also there a little bit. Eventually we all met up again and went out into the hot and sunny European summer day to find an ice cream shop that Stef and Anne's German relatives had declared was the "best in Paris". After a long adventure and lots of walking in circles and backtracking and pulling out our map just enough to give us the true tourist look, we finally arrived at the Berthillon ice cream shop...which happened to be closed on Tuesdays. Luckily there was a little place nearby that we were able to satisfy our cravings at, and even though it wasn't the "best in Paris", we still enjoyed it while sitting on a bridge and watching the sun slowly drop down behind the distant Eiffel Tower. Anne and Stef and I headed back to the family friend's apartment they were staying in and had an amazing pasta and grilled vegetable and 3€ bottle of wine dinner, and talked and talked until I left a bit after midnight to make sure I got back to the hostel before the metro closed. As I made my way back, I could already hear the occasional distant firework, beginning the July 14th Bastille Day national holiday.
Wednesday morning I crowded onto the metro with the rest of Paris and headed over to the Champs-Élysées to watch the military parade. The guide I read online advised arriving there at 9:30 for the 10:30 parade if you wanted to have space to watch. I suppose I was really a latecomer at 9:45, because the entire Champs-Élysée was packed on both sides of the street six or seven people deep. In hopes of seeing something of the parade, I walked a little ways down the street and eventually found a cross street where some members of the guard were walking in, and I helped to fill in the space behind them. I needn't have worried about space though, because about 10 minutes into the parade, it started to downpour, and those unprepared tourists without umbrellas or raincoats scurried off to the metro. I huddled under the edge of a tree, halfway underneath the umbrella of a little French woman who I think was trying to get me under it but she was just short enough that the umbrella rested on the back of my head and the water drained down the back of my neck into my shirt. The rain was off and on, but the crowd of umbrellas cheered nonetheless for the parade of soldiers with their tanks, police, navy, and firefighters who marched proudly down the street. The air force came in style, flying their fighter jets low over the street in at least 20 groups of five, in different formations. The first jets to go left a trail of blue, white, and red to represent the French flag and announce the start of the parade. It was great to see but by the time the rain started again I was really ready to be warm and dry, so I headed back to the hostel for an afternoon nap.
Next up was Mandy's Paris list. Since i'd already seen the big things to see in Paris last time I was there, I asked my friend Mandy who studied abroad in Paris this spring to make me a list of things to do when I was there that I might not find in a tour book or on the tourist maps of Paris. First up was the Parc aux Buttes-Chaumont. A little ways outside the city center, this gigantic park is built on a hill with an old gazebo on top that has an amazing view of the city. It seemed to be a more family-oriented place and was much quieter than any of the famous parks in Paris, making for a relaxing walk and a nice place to sit and read for a bit.
Wednesday night I headed over to the Champs de Mars (Eiffel Tower) area to see the fireworks. As the metro neared the stop for the tower, more and more people crowded on, and when we passed over the river before the metro stop, thousands and thousands of spectators came into view, crowded alongside the river and into the park and in every possible area that wasn't closed off to the public. I managed to squeeze in through a crowd behind the Eiffel Tower to watch the firework show, "squeeze" being the operative word. We were packed in so tightly that it was nearly impossible to pull my camera up out of my pocket because my arms were pinned to my side. The police were having little success with controlling the crowd, with everything from street traffic to preventing people from scaling the walls up to get a better view presenting a problem. The fireworks were amazing despite being in such close quarters with so many strangers, and the finale literally lit up what seemed to be the entire sky. Paris sure knows how to put on a show. Leaving the area actually presented way more of a problem than getting there though. I decided to walk against the crowd that seemed to be heading back to the metro stop that I had come from, hoping to avoid waiting hours in line. As per usual though, it seemed as if the Parisians knew something that I didn't know, because all the other metro stations nearby (and by nearby I mean within a 20 minute walk) were closed due to security reasons near the Champs de Mars. Eventually I walked to the Champs-Élysées and got on the metro back, which was still crowded, even an hour plus after the fireworks ended.
Thursday was my last full day in Paris, so I took advantage of my metro pass and continued checking things off from Mandy's list. Included were a trip to an amazing bakery where I had one of the best sandwiches of my life, and then I had my first macaroons from Ladurée on the Champs-Élysées. Afterward, while sitting in the park, stealing the free McDonalds internet, I got pooped on by a pigeon and had to go inside McDonalds and pay to use their bathroom to wash off (not something on Mandy's list). I guess the internet stealing karma finally caught up to me... After that, I met up with a friend from India who was in Paris for the day with her friend, and we went and got ice cream and sat in the Tuileries garden next to the Louvre. It was a great opportunity to continue my French speaking goal, because my friend Sarah's friend didn't speak much English. We spent some time gossipping and reminiscing about India, talking about our perceptions of each others' cultures, and me getting some French lessons. Afterwards, on my way back to the hostel I met a girl from Algeria who was about my age, traveling with a school group but trying to figure out the Paris metro. It was fun that neither of us were native French speakers, but were able to communicate nonetheless.
As I sat in Subway (as in sandwiches, not metro) near my hostel on Wednesday, I was beginning to think that the monsoon followed me here. The streams of water flowing down both sides of the street and the rain coming down so hard that the cleared the streets of people on the French National holiday were very reminiscient of just over a week ago when I was in India.
My first couple days in Paris were pretty relaxed. After a nap on Monday afternoon, I started to put my unlimited one week metro pass to good use. I rode over to near the Louvre and walked along the Seine towards the Champs-Élysées, remembering that familiar area near the Latin Quarter that I had spent time in last time I was here in Paris four years ago. I reintroduced myself to French bread and chocolate croissants, did a lot of window shopping, and walked myself silly. Since my days seem to revolve around food, I headed back to the area near my hostel and picked out a little Italian restaurant looking out on la Place de la République. From what I've seen here, I think that people sitting alone at restaurants actually have some of the best views at dinner. The front of the restaurants usually has outdoor cafe seating, with tables for two at the front. I was definitely not the only one eating alone, and I tried to take my cues on "dining for one" from the other seasoned lookig veterans around me. Good things that I picked up on from the bald man and the lady with the sun umbrella sitting near me: bring a book and have it open on the table or in your lap - obviously you don't have to read it, but if you want to, take a break about every half page to stare thoughtfully off into the distance, (since those French romance novels clearly require a lot of thought). Also, take as long as possible to order and eat each course and then wait to pay the bill until after the waiter comes back a fourth or fifth time. The first course should consist of wine and free table bread, and will also require a lot of serious thinking and twirling the wine glass in your hand as you stare longingly off into the distance. For the last course, get a tiny cup of coffee, and even though it should be served steaming hot, you should probably wait as long as possible, maybe 20-30 minutes, preferably until it is ice cold, to take a sip. These two single diners that I observed truly showed me the art of eating a slow meal.
The hostel that I stayed at seemed somewhat aged compared to the one in Frankfurt. The narrow, winding staircase that leads up the middle of the hostel is surrounded by walls that look a little crumbly and a little railing that couldn't possibly prevent anyone from falling down the tiny stairs. The room was fine, although I really enjoyed sharing a four-person room with one other person in Frankfurt. I don't know if anyone in my room spoke English, and if they did, they didn't to each other. I briefly met an old Brazilian man and there was a Korean guy who I never saw awake when I was there. There are also what I think were a couple German backpackers across the room. We all shared a key to the room which had to be taken by the last person to the desk when we are all gone, and there was nowhere to lock up our things in the room, so the backpacker's unspoken code of trust is what we were all going on I guess.
On Tuesday morning, I met up with a friend Stefanie from school and her sister Anne and cousin Annelie at the Rodin Museum. We spent the morning seeing Rodin's sculptures, followed by the traditional French lunch of a baguette and cheese in the garden. After a day of only speaking French, which was a great challenge for myself, it was nice to relax and share travel stories and laugh at ourselves in English. After lunch, we took advantage of our discounted price to the Musée d'Orsay that we got with our first museum ticket. Even though I had already been to the Orsay, it was still amazing to see it all again, this time being able to take my time as I went through. I had forgotten how huge and incredible the train station turned museum was, and we probably spent close to four hours in there with Monet, Dégas, Manet, Van Gogh, Rénoir, Cassat, and more. Anne and Annelie seemed to be more interested and knowledgeable art enthusiasts, and so Stef and I went through the museum on our own a little more lightheartedly, making up stories for and taking turns interpeting what was going on in the paintings. It was probably the most fun I've ever had in a museum and I'm sure that I laughed more than was appropriate and annoyed the serious museum goers that were also there a little bit. Eventually we all met up again and went out into the hot and sunny European summer day to find an ice cream shop that Stef and Anne's German relatives had declared was the "best in Paris". After a long adventure and lots of walking in circles and backtracking and pulling out our map just enough to give us the true tourist look, we finally arrived at the Berthillon ice cream shop...which happened to be closed on Tuesdays. Luckily there was a little place nearby that we were able to satisfy our cravings at, and even though it wasn't the "best in Paris", we still enjoyed it while sitting on a bridge and watching the sun slowly drop down behind the distant Eiffel Tower. Anne and Stef and I headed back to the family friend's apartment they were staying in and had an amazing pasta and grilled vegetable and 3€ bottle of wine dinner, and talked and talked until I left a bit after midnight to make sure I got back to the hostel before the metro closed. As I made my way back, I could already hear the occasional distant firework, beginning the July 14th Bastille Day national holiday.
Wednesday morning I crowded onto the metro with the rest of Paris and headed over to the Champs-Élysées to watch the military parade. The guide I read online advised arriving there at 9:30 for the 10:30 parade if you wanted to have space to watch. I suppose I was really a latecomer at 9:45, because the entire Champs-Élysée was packed on both sides of the street six or seven people deep. In hopes of seeing something of the parade, I walked a little ways down the street and eventually found a cross street where some members of the guard were walking in, and I helped to fill in the space behind them. I needn't have worried about space though, because about 10 minutes into the parade, it started to downpour, and those unprepared tourists without umbrellas or raincoats scurried off to the metro. I huddled under the edge of a tree, halfway underneath the umbrella of a little French woman who I think was trying to get me under it but she was just short enough that the umbrella rested on the back of my head and the water drained down the back of my neck into my shirt. The rain was off and on, but the crowd of umbrellas cheered nonetheless for the parade of soldiers with their tanks, police, navy, and firefighters who marched proudly down the street. The air force came in style, flying their fighter jets low over the street in at least 20 groups of five, in different formations. The first jets to go left a trail of blue, white, and red to represent the French flag and announce the start of the parade. It was great to see but by the time the rain started again I was really ready to be warm and dry, so I headed back to the hostel for an afternoon nap.
Next up was Mandy's Paris list. Since i'd already seen the big things to see in Paris last time I was there, I asked my friend Mandy who studied abroad in Paris this spring to make me a list of things to do when I was there that I might not find in a tour book or on the tourist maps of Paris. First up was the Parc aux Buttes-Chaumont. A little ways outside the city center, this gigantic park is built on a hill with an old gazebo on top that has an amazing view of the city. It seemed to be a more family-oriented place and was much quieter than any of the famous parks in Paris, making for a relaxing walk and a nice place to sit and read for a bit.
Wednesday night I headed over to the Champs de Mars (Eiffel Tower) area to see the fireworks. As the metro neared the stop for the tower, more and more people crowded on, and when we passed over the river before the metro stop, thousands and thousands of spectators came into view, crowded alongside the river and into the park and in every possible area that wasn't closed off to the public. I managed to squeeze in through a crowd behind the Eiffel Tower to watch the firework show, "squeeze" being the operative word. We were packed in so tightly that it was nearly impossible to pull my camera up out of my pocket because my arms were pinned to my side. The police were having little success with controlling the crowd, with everything from street traffic to preventing people from scaling the walls up to get a better view presenting a problem. The fireworks were amazing despite being in such close quarters with so many strangers, and the finale literally lit up what seemed to be the entire sky. Paris sure knows how to put on a show. Leaving the area actually presented way more of a problem than getting there though. I decided to walk against the crowd that seemed to be heading back to the metro stop that I had come from, hoping to avoid waiting hours in line. As per usual though, it seemed as if the Parisians knew something that I didn't know, because all the other metro stations nearby (and by nearby I mean within a 20 minute walk) were closed due to security reasons near the Champs de Mars. Eventually I walked to the Champs-Élysées and got on the metro back, which was still crowded, even an hour plus after the fireworks ended.
Thursday was my last full day in Paris, so I took advantage of my metro pass and continued checking things off from Mandy's list. Included were a trip to an amazing bakery where I had one of the best sandwiches of my life, and then I had my first macaroons from Ladurée on the Champs-Élysées. Afterward, while sitting in the park, stealing the free McDonalds internet, I got pooped on by a pigeon and had to go inside McDonalds and pay to use their bathroom to wash off (not something on Mandy's list). I guess the internet stealing karma finally caught up to me... After that, I met up with a friend from India who was in Paris for the day with her friend, and we went and got ice cream and sat in the Tuileries garden next to the Louvre. It was a great opportunity to continue my French speaking goal, because my friend Sarah's friend didn't speak much English. We spent some time gossipping and reminiscing about India, talking about our perceptions of each others' cultures, and me getting some French lessons. Afterwards, on my way back to the hostel I met a girl from Algeria who was about my age, traveling with a school group but trying to figure out the Paris metro. It was fun that neither of us were native French speakers, but were able to communicate nonetheless.
Thursday night I headed over to see a cousin (of some degree), Rebecca, who was teaching in Paris for the summer with her three year olds, Henry and Juliette. We made a picnic and went to the park (the park which happened to be the Champs de Mars, in front of the Eiffel Tower). It was really relaxing to chat with Rebecca over bread and cheese and wine while Henry and Juliette ran around. Hanging out with the kids reminded me of teaching swim lessons at home and how much I like that. While walking around, we overheard some people talking about how they were from Oregon. Go figure. Small world, huh? I didn't end up getting back to the hostel until late Thursday night, so I took what can really be described as more of a nap (2 hours) than a nights' sleep before waking up to go to the airport to go to Berlin.
To get to the airport in the middle of the night while the metro was closed, I had to navigate through Paris' Noctilien night bus system, which Sarah had warned me contained some rather shady characters. I held on tight to my backpacks and tried not to fall asleep while watching around me. I got to the airport at about 5, and was greeted with a television monitor that read "retardé" or "late". Not to be phased by the continuation of my travel nightmares, I got my ticket and went to the gate, where the EasyJet rep informed me that there was a plane but no crew, and they therefore had to fly a crew in from the UK, and the 6:40 am flight would not be leaving until 10:30. When I finally arrived in Berlin 7 hours later, Nick was there waiting for me, saving me from trying to figure out the Berlin metro system which I came to hate over the few days I was there. Nick has spent the summer studying in Berlin, and I arrived on his last weekend in Berlin, a celebratory time for him and the group of people there with the program who had all just finished their finals the day before.
After dropping my stuff off, Nick headed off to a goodbye lunch for the program and I had an amazing falafel sandwich before beginning my usual self-guided wandering tour. As per usual, I was lost amidst a sea of signs in German that I didn't understand after about ten minutes, and by the time I finally found the famous Berliner Dome, it was time to head back to meet up with Nick and his friends (one of whom, Lexie, actually goes to Whitman! Small world again...). We saw a bunch of monuments and important spots in Berlin, and after six weeks studying the history, art, and culture of the city, my three tour guides collectively gave me a great introduction to the area. For dinner we went out to an Indian restaurant (ha!), although the Aloo Gobi Masala was practically devoid of spice and my refined Indian tastebuds didn't even recognize the food (though it was good in its own way). Running on my two hours of sleep since Paris, we then proceeded to head out to a "beach club" located near the river in the middle of the city. It was a really neat experience, and with the heat of the day just beginning to fade, I was glad to be outside. Sand surrounded the dancing area, and the lightning proivided for an awesome sort of unpredictable strobe light. It was cool though; becuase although we had lightning almost all night, there wasn't much rain. The endurance of the group I went with was amazing, and they were obviously well conditioned for the late night clubbing after their time in Europe. We stayed at the beach club until about 4, and didn't get back to bed until about 5. I was really glad to finally sleep, even though we were up again by noon to take advantage of the group's last day in Berlin.
Saturday, we went back to the Berliner Dome, which is an enormous church with amazingly crafted ceilings and pieces of art. We also climbed about 79 billion stairs to get up to the top of the dome, which had an outdoor viewing platform where we could look out over Berlin! Next, Nick and Lexie and I went on another adventure to find a certain pool that they had heard good things about. Especially after Paris, I was just really surprised at how long it took us to get anywhere in Berlin. The metros come anywhere from every 10-20 minutes depending on the time of day, and we often had to change multiple times to get to where we were going. Going to the pool required two metros and a tram, and that was all just to get us to the area near the pool. Actually getting to it was a process that included going down the wrong path and needing to jump a fence after realizing that our exit path was blocked. I'm pretty sure we circled the entire facility before we managed to find the entrance. Once inside, the huge slide and 5 meter platform jump were enough to be really refreshing and reminded me a lot of being home in the summer and working at my pool. After a bit of jumping and diving and swimming, we relaxed on the side of the pool and people watched, which Lexie and I enjoyed immensely. There was a group of guys at one point wearing swimsuits that I might even say are more revealing than the classic Speedo. They were taking turns posing and flexing and doing pushups for each other and taking pictures of themselves in the process. It was pretty goofy and certainly kept us entertained. We left the pool and headed to dinner at a German restaurant for my introduction to German cuisine. Despite the poor or lack of a reputation that German food has, I managed to get a great stuffed crispy pasts dish with a salad that wasn't smothered in mayo, a German love that I just don't understand. I also tried some of Lexie's cheesy spatzle, which was like a way better version of macaroni and cheese with German noodles.
We took a little break after dinner so that everyone could pack before we headed out to celebrate the last night in Berlin. The night began at "the Boxcar", a little bar that was built inside and around a little old red boxcar. They had amazing cocktails and I would have loved to have tried more of them, although it was probably good that I stuck to just the Watermelon Man and Sex on the Beach, with a couple sips of an Italian Colada. From the bar we headed to the China Lounge, another nightclub that the group had been before, and stayed again until just after 4. Like Lexie had predicted, the DJ was really into Michael Jackson, and I think he got in maybe six songs of his in the 3 hours we stayed there. After watching some sad goodbyes between the members of the group afterwards, we were off to another few hours of sleep before waking up to pack up.
My original plan for Berlin was to stay until Monday and then take the train to Frankfurt where I would leave from for home on Tuesday. While Nick worked on packing his stuff up, I ventured out to find my hostel that I was going to stay at Sunday night after Nick left to travel with some people to Munich. Just my luck though that construction was beginning on the already confusing to navigate lines. After a really frustrating and stressful hour and a half that involved me following all the right signs and somehow ending up in all the wrong places and nobody speaking English, I gave up and called Nick and met up with him as he was on his way to the train station to say goodbye. Even after traveling through India and around Europe on transportation systems much more ridiculous than this, the combination of getting lost, being exhausted from so little sleep, and carrying around heavy bags bags, I was so stressed out that it seemed like Berlin had finally broken me. We sat down long enough for me to have a minor meltdown and take a breath before going to the train station. Almost 50 days since leaving home, homesickness reached a high, and there was nothing that I wanted more right at that moment than to be home, in my English speaking country, with my family and friends and things that I understood. I have really been pushed out of my element on this trip enough times to last me quite awhile, and am ready for a break. I was really grateful to have Nick there with me, and once we got to the train station for his train, we came up with the idea that I should just go back to Frankfurt a day early instead of trying to deal with finding the hostel on Sunday and then figuring out how to get back to the train station on Monday. Although this was easier said than done, I finally talked to a ticket agent (she was the third one I went to, the first two had been really unhelpful and told me that I was going to have to spend over $100 to change the ticket, which was more than double what I paid for it initially). She explained to me that i could go online and have my ticket refunded, and i would have to buy a new one. Going the budget route, I got a 39€ ticket that took twice as long as my short four hour planned train and required three changes, but after getting my other 54€ ticket refunded, I somehow managed to make 15€ back in the process.
Finally satisfied that I was going to be able to get to Frankfurt at least, I boarded the train with my totally packed 65 L backpack and smaller backpack, as well as a large rolling bag they I was bringing home for Nick while he travels. Since I don't understand German, I slept and set an alarm for around about the time when we were supposed to be arriving at my first changeover. When we arrived at Burg Magdeburg, I had to hustle to get off the train with all my stuff before the doors closed, falling on a woman and I'm sure hitting people with my backpacks on the way. As soon as the train pulled away and I began to collect my thoughts, i looked down at my ticket to see what track my next train was supposed to depart from. Gleis 6? Where was Gleis 6? Why was there only one Gleis? Why was the station practically abandoned? Looking down at my ticket, my eyes bulged in horror as I realized that my stop was Magdeburg Hbf, and not Burg Magdeburg. I ran to the front of the train station to check for the next train time. Not for a few hours, by which time I would have missed all of my connections. I turned around to find a large German woman in a minivan taxi. Magdeburg Hbf? She raised her eyebrows and wrote down a price. After realizing that I had no cash, my meltdown started all over again, and I think she took pity on me. We raced to the nearest geldautomat where I withdrew enough Euros to get me there and to give her a huge tip which I knew would be in order if we made it in time. She spoke almost no English, and me no German, and we sat in such silence as she maneuvered the minivan through the streets and then onto the highway that I became extremely conscious of my heart practically beating out of my chest. I don't know the kmh to mph conversion off the top of my head, but i'm guessing that by the way we were passing people and the fact that she maxed out the speedometer, 170 km/h must be pretty fast.
As we pulled up to the Hbf with two minutes to spare, I shoved €55 into her hand, inclusive of a much earned 40% tip. She smiled a smug German smile at me and just said "easy, no?". I ran to my connecting train, boarded, and collapsed onto the seat with my three bags. As the train departed, a teenage German girl and her friends started singing "I want to be in America". The timing was ridiculous.
The remainder of my trip to Frankfurt was delightfully boring. It felt so good to know that I was finally back in a place that I had already figured out and that was only a step away from going home. I got on the last bus of the night to my hostel, checked into a clean room, met my two french roommates, and slept so, so well.
Last day in Frankfurt today. I am going to spend it walking, shopping, eating, napping, and relaxing. Home tomorrow :-)
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