Sunday, August 22, 2010

What a summer I had this year!

It's strange to me to think that I have already survived the first week of my second year in TFA. My summer is already over, but I think it deserves a few words. I traveled every which way this summer and spent quality time visiting and catching up with dear friends all over the world.

It began when school ended May 20. I stuck around Louisiana for another 10 days, working desperately to finish my portfolio (a mandatory part of my certification process). That is done, and the Department of Education is sending me my certification. On May 30, I began the journey from Louisiana to Edisto Island, SC. It was an incredible drive, complete with an Exxon that had a llama and ostrich petting zoo in the back. It was full of unusual rural sights and beautiful swamp lands. Unlike most road trips, I even ate well because of the bizarre stops along rural, twisty roads with excellent home-cooked food. My favorite was this enormous peach orchard that had a country shop and cafe where I got chicken quesadillas with peach salsa. Naturally I thoroughly enjoyed the drive and the quirkiness of it all, though I missed having someone else to share it with. I'm used to making lots of road trips by myself (I've been making them since I was 18), but I've never quite experienced such a distinctly quirky/bizarre road trip that made me wish quite so much for someone else to remember it with me.

Finally I arrived at Edisto Island, where I joined my parents for the week. It was such a wonderfully relaxing time, complete with dolphins jumping at sunset on the Bay and all the usual delights that Edisto has to offer. For the first time, I actually documented it all fairly well with my camera. I wanted to show my friends far away why Edisto draws me back every year. Of course, the photos, which are on Facebook now, only tell part of the story. The other part is the memories my family has made since I was toddler. To me, the swamps and Spanish Moss of Edisto tell me that I am home in a way. It is most definitely because of Edisto that I ended up in Louisiana for two years. I knew that if I went to somewhere with swamps, Live Oaks, Cypresses, and Spanish Moss, my heart would be restored a little everyday, no matter the pain of the job. I was right. Every time I see a Giant Oak with the Spanish Moss waving gracefully, my heart sails above time and place, and I am so grateful to be living in South Louisiana.

I drove up to North Carolina, spent the night there, and then flew to visit a friend in Cambridge, MA for a week. That was also a lovely week, spending time with my friend and exploring a part of the country I had never been to. From there, I came back to North Carolina for two weeks, hung out with Mike (who had just moved down to NC) and packed for my next set of adventures.

On June 27, my mom took me up to one of the towns right next to the Dulles Airport (near DC), where we enjoyed a relaxed evening. The next day we explored a bit, ate good Vietnamese food, and in the evening I boarded the airplane headed for Amsterdam. This summer represented a significant change for me: in all the travels I have done the last few years, I've never *returned* to any country I'd been to previously. This time the entire point of the trip was to return to my German friends and family and to visit my sister in Israel, a country I have also spent two weeks in before.

From Amsterdam, I took the six hour train, with a transfer, to Bremen, Germany. The experience was strange to me to step off the plane and realize I was in Europe but I still couldn't yet speak the language and to watch as gradually, on the train, I began to hear less and less Dutch and more and more German. Even hearing so much German after five years of being away felt odd, but it also felt right. I was thoroughly jetlagged, my mind could not process any language fast, and yet I felt instantly that old sense of home rekindled at hearing German. Finally, I arrived in Germany, where my host mom met at the train station with tears in her eyes and a big hug, in the same spot where five years previously she and about ten others had waved, shouted, and ran after the train at 3am as I disappeared out of their lives.

I discovered something: returning is nice. It's nice to have a community somewhere. For the most part, I've lost my community in North Carolina, though I thoroughly appreciate those individuals that I still see when I visit my parents. I have had many other experiences of intense community sense then, such as while a Page or in college, but those were always temporary situations, and my friends from them are now scattered all over the world. There is no single place to return to. But Germany represents the exception.

In truth, my German friends are a bit scattered now, but they are all still connected to the same hometown that I am. When they heard that I was coming back for a bit, many of them were able to visit home for a while, because that's just it, the town I call my German town is also their home still. Even more, most of them are within two hours travel. I visited many in Hamburg, where I have more German friends now than anywhere else. And, of course, my German family is ever my German family. I celebrated my Oma's 90th birthday with the family this year, an experience I thoroughly appreciated. Somehow, experiencing the sense of being "home" in Bremen, even just for a week and a half, was a beautiful experience. I don't know if I will ever have the opportunity to live in Germany again, but I would be happy to. I would be happy to return once again.

After 10 days in Germany, I boarded the train back to Amsterdam. I purposefully took the earlier train so I could have time in Amsterdam to explore and go see the Van Gogh museum, a childhood dream of mine, ever since I decided he was my favorite artist when I was six years old. Of course, exploring a foreign city in a foreign country, where I don't speak the language and have never lived, all by myself represented a new step in my world travels. I may have traveled a lot, even traveled a decent amount by myself, but I generally either travel by myself where I speak the language or quickly pick up a buddy to experience the travels with. This represented a new exception: I was alone. My mother was initially very worried about this, but I knew I needed to prove to myself that I could do this.

I arrived at the central train station in Amsterdam, having read online that there were lockers that could be rented for the day somewhere in there. I immediately began the process of exploring and getting lost in the land of confusing signs until I finally found my way to the lockers. The instructions were all in Dutch, and I could not understand how to swipe my credit card to lock the locker, so I tried to get help from the attendants. The man who helped me was very useful. He said, "Just follow the directions. You try again." I tried again. The machine printed a receipt for me. I wasn't sure how it happened. I checked the locker. It did not appear to open. I left.

I then began the process of trying to figure out what form of public transportation I needed to get to the Van Gogh museum. Thankfully, I quickly found an information desk. After waiting in line, the man at the desk informed me I would need to stand by the 2 or 5 trains. Something in the way he was pointing seemed inconsistent with his words, but I figured I would go to the trains and try to figure it out there. I asked him how I get a ticket, and he tells me I must buy it on the train. Unfortunately, the station is a bit hectic, I get a bit lost, so I go to next information desk. He cannot tell me how to get there but emphatically reminds me I must get on the 2 or 5 train. Finally on the train platforms, I see twos and fives, but they do not appear to be going downtown, so I go to the next information desk. This lady then informs me, "No, no, not the 2 or 5 train. You need 2 or 5 tram." Okay, tram, not train. Makes sense. She then informs me I should buy my ticket, so I do. She tells me the name of my stop is "Van Gogh Museum." Thankfully she gave fairly specific directions for me: Exit the train station and go left to find the trams. I do so and rejoice at finding the trams! But now I have a new piece of confusion: I see a 10, 18, 6, and 4... but no 2 or 5. I wander about for a little while. I search every tram sign I can find. FINALLY, I give up and wander into the next information desk. She informs me that, no, I should not have turned left. Right was the way. Frustrated at having been given a thousand and one directions, I follow my new set of directions, arrive just in time for the two, board the train and found myself headed toward the museum. What a sigh of relief I breathed when I finally made it on that tram! I rode past quintessential outdoor cafes and fans preparing for final game of the world cup. Finally, I hear Museum Place Stop... I wonder to myself, because this was not the name I had been told, but I determined my gut seems to have been better this day than people's directions, and I get off. Finally, a good choice, because I immediately found the signs to get to the museum. I also had the chance walk by and photograph the famous "I AMsterdam" sculpture. Got into the museum. Loved it. Enjoyed it. Ate a meal. Went back to the train station.

At the train station, I went to pick up my bag and went to the machine to insert my receipt as the pictures seemed to show, but the machine wouldn't take it. Just like last time, I went to get one of the attendants, who was also not Dutch and could not speak English or German very well. As soon as I showed him the receipt though, he says, "No good. You must try again to pay."

I start to laugh and then ask, "You mean, it's not locked?"

"Yes, no good," he repeats again. "I help you. Come."

I try to tell him that's not necessary and walk up to my locker to assure that I can, indeed, get it out. Sure enough, it hadn't been locked all day.

Again, the attendant insists, "I help you pay."

"I am leaving," I try to explain.

"But it is not locked," he insists.

"Yes, I am picking up my bag," I again explain. "I'm leaving."

"You take your bag somewhere else?" he asked indignantly.

Finding no better way of responding, I say, "Yes, to the airport."

"But you not store it here?" he asks again.

While he continues to waste my time with linguistic confusion, I searched my bag through entirely, finding nothing missing or added to my bag, crossing my fingers that no security guard would ask if my bag had been at all unattended during the day. Finally, I looked up at the confused attendant and told him goodbye, silently wishing I had learned Dutch or better Arabic, as that would have been the language of choice for this man, I believe. The man kept shouting that he could help me as I left, and I felt somewhat guilty for having had free storage for my luggage all day. I would have paid if I could ever have found a way of explaining to him what happened.

Off to the airport I went to board the airplane for Tel Aviv... Seeing Sharona was wonderful! Both Sharona and Ariel picked me up at the airport. They had to wait a bit because my plane was delayed and then I was delayed a little longer for questioning, due to my interesting passport. Thankfully everyone was respectful, however. No security horror stories. In fact, I got the sense they were laughing at me when I didn't even know what Sharona was getting her degree in. Oops. But I was confident in what I did know, and eventually my answers sufficed.

Sharona and I explored all over the North, visited Ariel at the camp he was working at several times, explored Jerusalem, visited friends in Tel Aviv, visited with Ariel his family in Ariel (yes, he has the same name as his hometown), and genuinely enjoyed ourselves. Of course, many of Sharona's friend don't quite get why I have no interest in making aliyah or moving to Israel myself, but that's okay, if rather amusing. I still liked them, and I liked the world Sharona has entered. I feel called elsewhere, but I sense that Sharona has found her own home. Due to the time we experienced together, I can positively say congratulations to Sharona and Ariel on their recent engagement!

Then quickly back to the states, a few days in North Carolina, and down to Louisiana. After a week in Louisiana, I flew to Ohio, where Brooke and Benjamin married each other! It made me so happy to be a part of their special day, a couple I (and all in MESP) watched slowly come together from the day they met each other, as we flew to Egypt. Seeing Brooke and helping her get ready for the wedding was very special. I don't know when I will see Brooke again, but she will always be a very special friend to me, with whom I can talk about all the most awkward topics. It was also good to see other MESPers, whom I haven't seen in years. For all of us, it was a very exciting mini-reunion, and I was reminded why that semester was so very special and pivotal in all of our lives.

And now back to teaching. I'm loving this year so far. It'll be tough again, but this time it's a challenge that I truly desire. Strange how very much a year has changed me. :)