Laurel Elisabeth Stevens

I woke up this morning (Saturday) before 6 AM suddenly remembering "Our internet is being cut off today!"  I nearly jumped out of bed and ran to the computer.  I needed to write.  (and post).  Our computer will be packed up on Monday, so losing these two things brings me right back to where I was in those early days in Celle, except not quite.  I still have my iPhone.  But that brings up the age gap--I just don't see myself blogging from my iPhone.  But who knows.  The need to post our progress might just drive me to it.  Usually, however, it is better if I put a little bit of distance between the actual events and the blog post--it's more fun for you to read. This week has been quite an emotional roller coaster, not so much the nostalgic kind, but the kind of emotion that comes when everything seems to be going wrong.  Most of the problems have to do with leaving this house and getting to the next one.  But we have a lot of good ...

Lately I’ve written a lot about how much I will miss it here and how nostalgic I am, but there are several areas in which we really have not adjusted.  Once we knew when we were returning to the U.S., in a way we ended our arriving and learning phase and began our leaving phase .  True, I’m still learning here--such as if you buy a day ticket for the tram you only need to buy it for one zone, but if you buy a monthly card it must be for 2 zones.  Go figure.  Sorry to all the visitors I have overcharged! Mail Most of the mail we get is junk mail, with a few letters and cards from home.  But from time to time we important mail.  And that makes my stomach hurt.  The ones from the utility companies are the worst.  Just yesterday we got one from the energy company and my husband and I studied it for a a good 15 minutes.  We couldn’t tell if we owed money or if they owed us money.  And we couldn’t tell if they were going to take it ou...

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 pl...

Just enjoying the sunshine and the rooftops This is the time when the question becomes common: “So, when are you leaving?” or “Not long now?”  or “Are you still here?” The last one is the worst.  After being in Houston for 2 weeks, back in Hannover for a few days, then on vacation for a week, John got that question more than once at work on Monday. It’s also the time when I think, “Is this the last time I’ll buy laundry detergent here?”   I look in our bathroom cabinet and wonder, “Can I get this exact same kind of Nivea night cream in the U.S. or should I buy it here while I can?” Funny that two years ago I was stocking up on things American so I wouldn’t have to figure out what to buy here.  As if they didn’t have razors, toothpaste and deodorant here.  They do. And really nice bath soaks.  That’s what I want to bring back--but they are liquid and they come in glass bottles.  We’ll see.  John always gets a kick out o...

Elisabeth has been excited about playing piano in the school talent show but I just found out that the auditions are the day we are flying back to the U.S.  I wonder if this news will bring her first tears regarding our move. So far I think the kids are taking it easier than we are.  They don’t think all these big thoughts like, “We thought we’d be here longer” or “What will the transition be like?” or “Will Henry keep his German?  Will any of us keep our German?”  They don’t yet know or anticipate the ache that is left after saying good-bye to dear friends who have not only helped us through a difficult transition, but have brought a dimension to our stay that we never could’ve imagined.  The kids are thinking about the new house, returning to Elisabeth’s piano teacher, homeschooling, VBS at Grace, new gymnastics classes, friends, friends, friends.  I asked Elisabeth what she will be most sad about leaving here, and she said, “Friends!”...

I’ve had two phone calls in the last two days that have utterly bewildered me.  The first was a man speaking German who sounded very friendly--as if we knew each other already.  I understood it was something about our move, but the introduction was so fast that I had no idea why he was calling.  If I could translate the conversation into English, it might have gone something like this (I’m imagining what he probably said, but only based on what I understood later). Caller: Hello, Mrs. Stevens!  This is Schaefer from Spangenberg.  Greetings to your family.  I understand you’re moving. Me: Ah, hello!  Yes? Caller: I’m calling to schedule your household goods survey. Me: Yes? Ah, who are you? Caller: Mr. Schaefer from Spangenberg.   Me: I’m sorry, could you say that again? Caller: This is Mr. Shaefer from Spangenberg.  Your husband works for Baker Hughes and you are moving back, yes?  I’m calling to schedule th...

Bike riding to the store has its limitations By January of last year I felt like I was really quite adjusted to living in Hannover.   On a chilly January day two friends and I met to walk together and then get a few things at the grocery store.  We planned to then take the tram back home.  It was a lovely, brisk walk.  Two Americans and a German who lived in the US for five years have much to talk about.  Soon we were at the store doing our shopping.  In between the produce and the dairy section, I saw my neighbor, Frau K . . K . .. what was her name?  I simply couldn’t remember, although I had seen her a number of times and had chatted with her husband.  She was in her late 70s, a tall woman with excellent posture and silvery white hair.  I got up enough nerve to say, “Guten Tag.”  On earlier occasions when I had talked with my neighbor and her husband, it was her husband who was always the friendly one, with English that he le...