It's Definitely the Destination, and Not the Journey

Because the journey fucking sucks. There was a crying baby two rows behind me on the plane, and the person in the seat directly behind me thought it would be fun, apparently, to sleep with their head against the tray table, so I couldn't even recline my seat (without giving them a headache, at least). I started feeling nauseous mid-flight from a mix of allergies acting up and sleep deprivation (many of you know how I get), but was too embarrassed to ask for a barf bag, so I just didn't eat anything -- or open my mouth.

Once I got to the Frankfurt airport, I had three trains to catch to the Goethe Institut in Schwäbisch Hall (a small town in southwest Germany). I was worried about making them, because I had only scheduled myself 12 minutes in between each train. That was the naive American talking. In Germany, everyone takes their luggage off the rack, grabs their bags, and lines up in front of the door 10 minutes before the train reaches the station. Exiting the train takes about two minutes, then another two minutes for new riders to get on. A four-minute stop at each station in total. So that's why German trains run on time. Not some bullshit notion of "national character," just the minimal got-it-togetherness of being prepared to exit when it's time to do so. And, of course, knowing that you have another train to catch in six minutes that won't be running late either.

My roommate here at the Goethe Institut is from Japan. She speaks German at a beginning intermediate level, and very little English, so communication could be a little tricky. Oh well, we can practice German on each other.

This morning I took a placement test at the Goethe Institut in speaking, writing, and listening. I was placed at B.2.3, which I about what I expected. The exam moderator also asked if I was interested in a challenge, and true to overachieving Harvard form, I said yes, so she said she would put me in a higher level class if she has enough students to create one. I won't know my final course until tomorrow morning, the first day of classes.

After my placement test, I took an hour and a half walk around the town. There are parks on each side of the riverbank with pedestrian bridges to connect them, and a small park island as well. The park island seems popular with gutter punks, but also with young families. And I got catcalled twice (by an old man and a fifteen-year-old), so being a woman out in public can suck here, too. I'll be sure to Hollaback (great resource!) if anything nasty goes down.

The town itself, being built on a riverbank, is very hilly. Many streets are only for walkers and bikers, and sometimes, the best way to go between streets is to take a staircase. I haven't figured out, though, which staircases are public, and which just lead to someone's backyard. Hopefully I'll get my bearings before any awkward encounters go down.

With all the hiking and biking trails, the medieval-looking buildings, and the lazy, clean-enough-to-glisten-in-the-sunlight river, Schwäbisch Hall is the type of European town you see in the movies (at least before it gets wrecked). Or maybe that only happens in the movies I watch.