The night before going to Gottingen went a lot faster than I thought it would. Nights I refused sleep used to feel never-ending to me, filled with all this time that you had to be productive where you normally were fast asleep.
I planned to write dozens of emails, check in with countless family and friends, watch a movie or two, leisurely pack my things, take a nap, listen to some music, prepare a snack and just chill out before my planned 5:30 am departure from Jerome's apartment to Gare du Nord train station.
Didn't happen.
I got part of a movie in -- the last 40 minutes of Apocalypse Now Redux -- and that was about it. I lost track of time, hurriedly showered, threw all my shit together and barely made it out the door 20 minutes late. Rushed, I ran to grab a Velib bike and hauled ass across awakening, dimly lit Paris. My adrenaline was in high gear, my heart thumping mightily as I pumped my bike, fearing that I would miss my train (likely) or get accosted by some hoodlum Parisians looking to rob a biking American tourist (not as likely). Luckily, I defied all odds, avoided both these scenarios and believe it or not, made my train. 8 minutes to get from Jerome's to Gare du Nord. I was proud.
And so, at 6:25am, running on no sleep, I sat on the train. I realized I was going to Germany for the first time. I wondered where, and mostly why, I was going. I had booked my train there quickly the day before --- only to have Katie tell me not to do it after I did. Oops. I decided to just go anyway, make it the first leg of my German adventure, not knowing if I'd stay for a few hours or a few days. In the end, I was very glad I did. But en route, it seemed like a dumb move.
Eight hours and two connections later (Koln and Hanover). My journey to get there was especially incident free, minus the following:
-an American and a French conductor guy nearly coming to blows and arguing for a solid 20 minutes about paying an extra 20 euro fee; the conductor repeated the same refrain over and over again ("This is Paris, this is Germany...to get there, you have to GO THROUGH BELGIUM. YOU MUST PAY" or "This is not a plane!") He kept threatening that the guy had two options, to pay now, or "GET UFF AT ZE NEXT STOP WEETH ZE POLICE." After pretending he didn't have any money, the American relented and paid. France 1, America 0.
-me taking a few stupid pictures of the French/Germany countryside/heartland (nothing to see there).
-two Sri Lankan strangers sitting next to me who spoke the loudest Sri Lankan I've ever heard. As I dozed off, I think I dreamt in Sri Lankan.
-Watched The Prestige (really, really good -- but it made me feel stupid for not seeing the "Christian Bale's creepy sidekick is really his twin!" twist. There are so many references to it from the jump that went unnoticed -- stupid me).
GOTTINGEN: You could try to pronounce it 50 times and you wouldn't get it.
Step of the train and wonder what I am going to do. My phone doesn't work so I don't know where to go (or if Katie is even around). I turn a corner. And then BAM. Katie AND Meera! I am in shock. I am so overcome with joy. And now, the journey begins.
Here's what I remember: threw cheese out of a four-story window, learned about a dwarf-gnome combination (gnarf), got kicked out of an apartment at 9 in the morning, found a backpack and a hair trimmer, got a mohawk and head massage, made friends with a relentless four-year old lab named Benji, became an undefeated champion of karaoke as Spieler 1, got assaulted by an angry drunkard who tried to steal my camera and threatened to shoot me (I think) after I ran away from him, consumed sausage and beer everyday, opened a beer with the end of a knife (cut my finger in the process), danced at a raging SKA dance party, ate doner, ate ice cream, ate candy, ate croissants, was ushered around town as a blind man, stole a MEG Gottingen basketball poster, fell in love, met a blue panda, listened to the world's most ridiculous laugh, rocked out to Bohse Unklez, put gum in Katie's hair, cut out a chunk of Katie's hair, got lost, forgot some stuff and found out the hard way that beer, wine, sausage and salmon do not mix.
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