I should say that I am fully aware that the following includes a bald-faced pity party. I'm not proud of it, but this is a record of my travels, and I won't pretend that everything is always magical, exotic, and stress-free. The past month in Germany, of course, was fantastic and fun, and pretty stress-free. But I was staying with a very close friend who provided everything I needed and now I'm on my own. I'd like to say that I'm self-sufficient, but self-sufficiency in a foreign country comes with crossed fingers and a certain amount of fear.
Brittany and I woke up around four in the morning so I could be at the train station to catch my five am train (another example of Brittany's amazing selflessness). Please observe the amount of luggage I had with me:
Both of those suitcases were incredibly heavy. One of them had my down comforter crammed into it (and when the suitcase is unzipped, the comforter poofs out like Pillsbury biscuit dough from the can). Brittany helped me schlep them both onto the train, but then the beep that signaled the doors closing sounded. We quickly hugged, and she leapt down the train compartment steps, squeezing between the closing doors in the nick of time. I waved to her through the window as the train pulled away, trying not to cry, but also impressed with her amazing train-deboarding skills.
This train was running late, which made me miss my next connection. I had to wait in Nuremburg for an hour for the next one. Uneventful train-traveling for the most part (I think it is worth noting that people offered to help me with my cumbersome bags at every step of the way!), until I got to my third and last connection in the late afternoon. Right across the border into Denmark, there was construction on the railroad. It's a long story that includes me completely losing my head and bursting into involuntary tears because I was positive that I wouldn't get to Esbjerg on time (a rep from the university was picking me up at an appointed time and taking me to my apartment) and would therefore be left at some derelict bus station in the dark of night with all my belongings and of course be mugged.
But all the confusion and switching between buses and trains for several hours was made much more tolerable when I made fast friends with a girl of an age with me named Vanessa who was also trying to get to Esbjerg and who was putting up a brave front and doing her best to not cry (all right, fine, she was holding her composure and I was a pathetic weepy mess). She approached me, and in passable English, asked me if I was trying to get to Esbjerg and maybe could we travel together? We quickly bonded over our unfortunate, frustrating situation and it was a world of relief to have someone to talk to. She even let me use her phone to contact the rep and tell her to please come to the train station later.
Once we arrived in Esbjerg, at long last, and hugged goodbye and promised to keep in touch (a promise we've both made good on), a girl with a Southern Denmark University t-shirt approached me. She drove me to my house, gave me my keys and laundry card, and promptly left. That moment felt like rock-bottom for me. I did not want to be here. All of my stuff was still in suitcases; I could just take a taxi right back to the train station and go back to Brittany's on my Eurail pass and say "Hey... can I come stay with you forever?" Neither of my roommates, whom I'd met via Facebook, were home at the moment, which didn't help. I walked down the street to the Lidl, which is a tiny market that has all the basics: milk, eggs, some produce, bread, etc. Even though I had absolutely no appetite (despite my only intake that day being a croissant and a pretzel and string cheese), I knew I'd eventually want food. It was only around seven-thirty when I got back to my house, but I got into pajamas anyway. I was in bed (using the small comforter provided as a mattress cover and my own gigantic down comforter on top) reading when the doorbell rang. I went to answer it, and the guy introduced himself as Stephane, a third-year French-Canadian maritime archaeology student, and was I at all interested in coming out to the pub with other maritime students? I just about hugged poor Stephane, who was more helpful than he could know.
The pub was fun, and as promised I did meet more maritime archaeology students, mostly second- and third-years. It was quiz night, and after the quiz (we came in third) I was definitely ready for bed. No one else seemed to be ready for bed yet, except for a blond Danish boy named Stefan (different than the French-Canadian) who said he needed to get up early in the morning and was therefore calling it an early night. I couldn't help but notice he had not one but two motorcycle helmets with him. I knew he lived in the same neighborhood as I, and I also knew we were a ten-minute bus ride or a forty-minute walk from that neighborhood. I asked casually if anyone else was using that helmet. He said no, and offered it to me. "Want a ride?" That is how I, oddly enough, found myself on the back of a motorcycle on my first day in Denmark. The short, breathless ride helped distract me from all my second thoughts, albeit for only a few minutes.
Arriving home, I got under my comforter for the second time that day. I apologize for the long, boring post that seemed to consist of me complaining. It has gotten better since that day, as I've settled in and met my roommates (who are great) and explored a little bit. Details to come, friends and family. I miss and love you all.
And wasn't that a CHOCOLATE croissant ?! (mom's know Everything). :-)
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