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Nostalgia


Germany: at least we've got the map puzzle

I had to pick up a couple of things at the grocery store yesterday, but rather than just getting the salami and fleishwurst for sandwiches, it seemed like everything was calling my name.  On one hand I’m trying to use up everything in my house so I’m not wasteful, but on the other hand I see this as the last time I can buy Bifis, Ritter chocolate, so many kinds of Milka bars, coffee from Panama Kaffee, Faber-Castell pencils that come in a multitude of sizes and colors, shoes for me . . . And I really must make sure I’ve tasted everything the bakery has to offer.    
We’re down to the three week mark.  I sort of wish I could just skip to May 25th or so, but on the other hand I’m not ready to leave.  I was walking in town a few days ago, going the street remembering my first impressions.  I thought fondly of early events that at the time seemed traumatic but now make me nostalgic.  “Oh, there’s the place I had to change Henry’s poopy diaper in a pinch.  Here’s the place I got lost that time.  Here’s where mom and I simply could not find any suitable fabric for curtains.”  Soon I was in the Hauptbahnhof, the central train station, and I walked by a tea shop--Tee Handelskontor Bremen.  I’ve always liked the look of it--a blue and white striped awning over crisp looking tea tins and tea accessories.  I walked passed it, then turned around and went back in.  The clerk greeted me cheerfully and I was embarrassed that the words for “I’m just looking” didn’t just roll off my tongue after so many months of living here.  But I was looking and smelling.  I remembered John buying me a teapot for Christmas because ours somehow didn’t make it here.  The woman who sold it to him said it was “what all the German ladies use.”  Along with it he bought me “Princess Gray Tea”--a lighter version of Earl Gray.  So I looked around until I found one like that.  Then I smelled the herbal teas because most of my friends here prefer herbal.  And smelling them made me cry.  I kept in the tears long enough to purchase two packages of tea, ignoring the likelihood that I wouldn’t be able to bring them home with me.  Soon I was back in the main hall of the train station and in the crowds where I could cry without being observed.  

I’ll miss it here.





Seems like these days my brain is sort of in a fog.  I feel like I'm disassembling my life.  Recall that there are no closets in our house (or in most houses), so we purchased three wardrobes from Ikea after we moved in.  We’ve already sold two of them, so our things are squeezed into one wardrobe, with a pile of clothes on top, and a couple of bags of clothes in each room.  
A new employee of John’s came by with his wife on Saturday to look at our third wardrobe.  Watching and listening to them I thought, “Wow, they are kind of grumpy.”  They just didn’t seem very happy to be here.  They complained about the small apartments, the Kindergartens, the hotel they are staying at.  But before I thought too highly of myself and too poorly of them, I remembered a Friday afternoon after we’d been here just over a month.  We had just moved into our house and I was picking Elisabeth up from a friend’s house where she’d been at a birthday party.  Henry was with me--in the stroller.  I had taken the tram from our house to the center of town.  I knew it was the right tram stop, but from there was lost.  I even had my new iPhone and was using Google Maps, but I could not find the apartment.  I was grumpy.  I just remember trying to follow the directions on Google Maps and then ending up farther away from my destination.  It took me a very long time to find it.  Meanwhile Henry kept asking me for ice cream, so I finally bought him some.  Eventually, somehow we found the apartment, but I think only because I recognized someone else from the school and I followed her.  I took the tiny elevator up to the top floor, the stroller taking up most of the space.  But the worst part of what I remember about that day is that I did not temper my mood even around these strangers or very new friends.  I was grumpy and I complained--we live so far from the school.  My house is a mess.  We’re on the tram for such a long time.  Henry is complaining so much.  I was embarrassed for being that way, but at the same time I was so stuck in my adjustment funk that I could not snap out of it.  Even riding home on the tram with Elisabeth and her friend I thought to myself, “I hate birthday parties.  These girls are so tired.  They should be home already.”  Oh I’m sure I was such a gem to be around.
Still, maps are fascinating
So now, keeping that in mind, I’ll try to forestall my judgements of people in transition, myself included.
Elisabeth near her school
I told John last night that I was a little worried about the kids’ teacher for next year.  She is so unmotivated.  She doesn’t seem to get anything done.  She’s so easily distracted.  He gave me a hug and told me to give myself a break.  Transition is hard.
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