How six hours were magically deleted from my life...

DISCLAIMER: This is a long post. I detail everything about my flight and trip to Germany so that I can remember this when I look back. You might want to scan for the highlights.

Here is a summary:
1. My height gets noticed the second I step on the plane in Louisville.
2. The flight to Germany is good, but I don't sleep much.
3. The Amsterdam Airport, Schiphol, is huge and I made a fool of myself.
4. Stuttgart was an adrenaline rush because I had to buy my own train tickets and navigate the train station within 10 minutes and manage to carry all of my bags at the same time.


I am here in Germany!!

I have so so SO much to talk about, and I am still in my first 20 hours of being here. Because of that, I am going to break up my experiences over the last 36 hours into a couple posts. First, the trip.

Ok, so I know we've all heard of comfort zones. And we've all heard of streching them, right? In order to grow as a person, we need to take a step out of our comfort zones and stretch them to new limits. Well, if my physical growth were to coincide with my personal growth over the past few days, I would be standing roughly 10 feet tall.

I will now admit, now that I am actually in Germany and my excursion to Schwaebisch Hall (called Hall for short) is over, that I was absolutely terrified about my journey to Germany. I don't get scared in any capacity very easily. However, this was my first time flying out of the country, flying in a different country, speaking another language out of necessity, and traveling within another country. Also, I was doing this completely alone. I am all for independence. I wouldn't have it any other way, but I relied strictly on my mental fortitude to remain calm and not freak out. I was successful in my attempts to remain calm, but I can't remember the last time I had to give myself so many internal pep talks to remain composed.

My flight from Louisville to Memphis was easy enough. I had a window seat (which I did request) on a small commuter jet. When I walked into the plane, or ducked into the plane rather, the flight attendant, named Rose Marie, took one look at me and asked, "What seat did they give you?" I laughed and said the emergency exit row, so no worries. The seat next to me was occupied, but the whole row in front of me was empty. Rose Marie came up to me about 2 minutes after I sat down and asked if I wanted more room because I was a "big guy". The man sitting next to me moved up, leaving me my beloved window seat and the whole emergency row to myself. He turned around and asked me, "How tall are you?" There's my quota for the day, but it was definitely not the last time my stature was noticed on this trip. I responded with my usual, "Eh, 6'6 1/2." He laughed and retored, "Yeah I noticed you when you walked in that door and felt sorry for you." Great. Haha but the rest of the flight to Memphis was fine. Rose Marie seemed to pity my height because she asked if I needed anything every chance she had. She also asked where I was flying. When I responded, "Germany to study abroad for a semester," her eyes seemed to bulge out of the back of her head and she acted so taken aback. You would think a flight attendant would be more accustomed to people traveling, right?

The wait in Memphis was fine. I board my plane to Amsterdam with ease. I think I experienced two different worlds in the realm of aircraft because this plane is the biggest freaking commerical jet I have ever seen. Those of you who have been overseas before are probably laughing at my awe now, but prior to this, the biggest plane I had ever been on had three seats on either side of the aisle. This sucker had two seats, aisle, four seats in the middle section, aisle, and then another two seats. Huge! And the wings were monstrously large.

I requested a window seat for this plane as well, and I sat against the right side of the plane, right on the wing. There were plenty of empty seats (I guess the demand to fly from Memphis to Amsterdam on a Tuesday night in January just isn't there), so I had the seat next to me free to use. A German family sat behind me and subsequently spread out to the empty rows next to us so they could lay down to sleep. I tried to understand what they were say, but they had thick accents and spoke very quickly. This was my first experience with trying to understand German from the mouth of a German. It was not encouraging.

The flight was fine. I tried to watch a few movies, but I could not focus. I studied for most of the time, trying to absorb any last lessons from my German textbooks as I could. Sleeping was out of the question for most of the 9 hour flight. My mind was racing too quickly to calm down for real sleep. I drifted in and out for about two hours, but that was the extent of my sleep for Tuesday night. We flew from Memphis up to D.C., then over Boston and up to Newfoundland. It was crazy to think I was that far north, and I had failed to realize how far north Amsterdam, and Great Britain for that matter, actually lies.

Upon arriving in Amsterdam, I though back to a conversation I had when I visited my friends at the University of Kentucky last week before I left. My friend Rick told me about his 5 week trip to Europe the summer after our senior year in high school. He said something like: "...landing in Europe isn't as strange as you might imagine. You look around and see that you are still on plant Earth." This echoed through my head as I exited the plane. There were never word more true. This seemed like a normal airport...until I continued to my gate, that is. I had to pass through security to get from one terminal to the next, which I found unusual but rather logicial. I, of course, was very nervous and fumbled my way through security. Both people I spoke with talked to me with a British accent, but for some reason I was still nervous. I made it through just fine, but then walked by the customs counter.

Not wanting to break any international laws during my first hour in a new country, I asked the congregation of security personnel in front of the customs counter what all needed to be declared. The man I asked looked at me like I was an idiot and said, "You can ask that customs officer over there." I impulsively responded, "But what needs to be declared and what doesn't?" He repeated his answer with a much more pronounced annoyance, and I disheartenedly trudged over to the customs officer. He said I was all clear and sent me on my way. I still felt the burning pangs of embarrassment, though. I had my first moment as one of those "stupid Americans". I hated myself for it. Some people say I'm too hard on myself...

Waiting in the Schiphol, I heard Dutch, English, and German versions of all of the announcements. I never realized how much of an international hub Amsterdam was. I saw people from every region of the world and heard announcements for flights to Nigeria, South Korea, Boston, and Moscow. As I was handing my ticket and passport to the woman at the gate before I got on the plane, she asked me to wait just one momemnt. I, of course, wondered what in the world I could have done wrong. I was one of the last people on the plane. The guy behind me, that last guy in line, started laughing and said in broken English that I am not allowed to fly because I am too big. Of course, I was mildly offended but let it slide. Then the woman handed me my passport and wrote a different seat number on my ticket. She had checked the available seats and gave me an emergency exit row seat with no one next to me. She said I would be more comfortable and have more leg room there. Apparently my height struck her as well. I thought the Dutch were tall? Shouldn't she be used to us giants?

The flight was run by a French flight crew. One flight attendant spoke German and French while the other spoke French and English. The captain spoke English, too, as well as Dutch, German, and French. An excitable group of 6 German women sat behind me and laughed at random things the entire flight. Again, understanding them was very difficult, but I wasn't worried about that. I have a hard enough time understanding 6 women talking to each other in English.

Touching down in Stuttgart was nothing short of ordinary. I got off the plane, got my luggage very easily, and followed the signs to the S-Bahn, or Subway. There I went to get my tickets for the train to Hall, and realized I had all of 6 minutes to purchase the ticket and get to my platform before the next train came. So hurriedly printed out my ticket and time information and made it to the platform with a minute to spare. I had far more luggage than anyone else, but I think I was the only foreigner there. The train from the airport to the main train station took about 30 minutes with several stops, including one at the University of Stuttgart. Here, a guy about my age sat down next to me, took one look at my luggage, and put his earphones in. I was glad to have been excused the opportunity to talk to him. I was so nervous that I would have sounded like more of a blubbering idiot than normal. Once we rolled into the main train station in Stuttgart, things started getting interesting. Getting all of my bags off the train took a second, and some Germans laughed at me. They muttered something, but I just looked them in the eye and said, "Entshuldigung Sie mich." That means excuse me. They stopped laughing and let me pass through. I then hurried through the station to get to my next train to Heilbronn. I made it again, with about a minute to spare. It was a 45 minute ride, and it took all 45 minutes to slow my heart rate down.

On the train, two students about 19 or 20 got on at a stop and talked together. I picked up enough, but Germans speak so quickly. I feel like they must shoot speed and then start a conversation because it sounds like German times the speed of lightning. I made my transition to the last train to Hall at Heilbronn. That was also a 45 minute train ride. I stood the entire time on that train because it was crowded. However, I almost fell asleep several times standing up. By that time, it was 16:00 (4:00 PM) or 10:00 AM in the US. I had been up for 24 for hours and had barely gotten 2 hours sleep on the plane.

I finally made it to Hall, where my host mother, Baerbal Haug, met me. But more about my host family later. That is quite enough for one post, and it was assuredly quite enough to pack into 24 hours. I am tired again just typing about it. Know that I love Hall and my host family is awesome. You will hear about them later.