The first step to recovery is admitting that you have a problem...

I have a confession to make:

I am a workaholic.

Actually, that’s not much of a confession. Anyone who knows me is aware of this fact. I have had anywhere from 1-4 jobs at a time since I was 15. These jobs ranged from scooping ice cream at a mini golf course, to tutoring college students, to a plethora of retail jobs (women’s/junior’s clothing, kids clothing, men’s clothing, jewelry, accessories, perfume, shoes, I’ve done it all), to working at a produce stand (and spending my time husking corn at 6 am, cutting brussels sprouts for hours on end, and hacking at fruit with large knives [probably not the best job for me to have to be honest]), to ushering for shows at Suffolk University. One time I was hired to help open a “5 Below” in my hometown, and I got paid almost $300 to work one five hour shift (I’m still convinced that they made some mistake there, but they most certainly aren't getting their money back).

My point being that while I don’t always like working, I have always had this need to stay busy and keep myself constantly occupied while not in school (and even while in school too), and for most of my life work has fulfilled that need.

Until now.

I am working 12 hours a week on average. Under the conditions of my contract I am only allowed to work 12 hours a week on average. I quite literally cannot remember the last time when I had only 12 hours of my week filled up with something. I worked while I was in high school, and filled up my time in college with not only classes, but multiple jobs, students groups, etc.

And then I came here, and wondered why I felt restless, cranky, and, to be honest, kind of unhappy. It didn't make sense to me at first, because here I am, living in Germany, traveling, meeting new people, and doing so many of the things that I love most in life. I told myself that I should be over the moon with happiness. But then I realized that I also have more free time than I have had since I was a kid, and I really don’t know what to do with myself. It has nothing to do with being in a new country and trying to make a new life, etc. It has everything to do with the fact that for the first time in a long time, with the exception of those 12 hours a week, my life is entirely my own. I don’t have classes. I don’t have (very many) responsibilities. I don’t have deadlines, schedules, meetings, or restrictions really.

And while this is all exhilarating and fantastic, it is also slightly daunting. What do you do when your life is not defined by being a student or by your work? What do you do when you are given the opportunity to actually do what you want to do with your life?

What would you do?

Sometimes shit happens...

1.

Wow, it seems like an eternity since I’ve written anything. I would say that I’m sorry, except that I’m not, because I’ve been too busy gallivanting around Ireland and Scotland and enjoying (almost) every minute of it.

I say “almost” because no one can expect to travel anywhere and not encounter a disaster or two (or three). This trip in particular involved a train strike in Germany that meant I almost wasn’t able to leave the country, a woman who sold me a 5 pound meat pie (the form of currency pound, not the weight pound. Not that I wouldn’t have accepted the challenge of eating 5 pounds of meat pie, because I totally would have), and then shortchanged me 10 pounds, making that damn pie just about the most expensive meal I’ve had thus far while abroad, and a train ticket to Glasgow that I accidentally purchased for the wrong day, meaning that I was out yet another 15 pounds (side note: money conversions suck).

Anyone who has traveled (either in the U.S. or abroad) is bound to have disaster stories, so today, ladies and gentlemen, here are some of my best ones (punctuated by random pictured from Scotland and Ireland, because why not). These stories span about five years of travel, twelve countries, and numerous friends/travel buddies who can vouch for their legitimacy.

2.

Sometimes disasters come in simple forms, such as your electronics breaking or doing weird things. Sometimes your American phone doesn’t work. Sometimes your Italian phone doesn’t work. Sometimes your German phone doesn’t work. Sometimes you break two pairs of headphones within a week. Sometimes your laptop stops charging because it is five years old, which is like a dinosaur in electronics years. Sometimes you’re not sure which converter or adapter goes where and maybe your hair dryer makes a sound like it wants to blow up and destroy us all.

3.

Occasionally disasters come in more complex forms, like when you fear for your mental health, and by “fear for your mental health” I mean “fear for the safety of others because they are making you really mad and you are about to slap the shit out of somebody”. During the four months when I was studying in Rome I actually needed counseling so that I didn’t murder my crazy roommate. Previous to that roommate debacle, I actually once moved out of my room so I didn’t murder yet another roommate while in Paris (and I let my temper fly a little bit that time, therefore making one of my friends scared of ever making me angry).

4.

There are also transportation disasters, like my entire trip to Croatia. There was the boat cruise from hell, when we got stuck out on the water in a storm and everyone but a handful of us spent the entire trip sea sick in the back of the boat (while the rest of us hid up front and rode it out like champions). Then there was the car accident, when a car flipped on the highway and hit our tour bus, resulting in us sitting on the side of the road for hours waiting for the police to show up.

5.

And then there are the random daily disasters, like getting lost (like I said before, I have a habit of being convinced that I am heading in the right direction, when it turns out that I am actually heading in the exact opposite direction of where I should be going), having money problems (I have had debit card problems more often than I’d care to discuss), getting extremely sunburnt (in both Greece and Spain, because they are dangerous countries for pale peoples like myself), and, you know, maybe accidentally forgetting to pack all of your pants (I will never live that one down).

6.

But here’s the thing; not only do these disasters make for great stories, but also for every one of them, I have at least five amazing, wonderful adventures that I’ve had. I’ve stalked Italian waiters, trespassed on Greek construction sites, eaten snails in France, tripe in Portugal, and whole anchovies in Spain. I’ve tackled Carnivale in Venice in the freezing cold and snow, explored an Italian mall where no one spoke English, wandered around Montreal with no plans and no idea what I was doing, spent a day trip to Pisa doing little more than eating and taking a nap in front of the Leaning Tower of Pisa (and I enjoyed every second of it), watched flamenco dancing while drunk in Barcelona, seen a stunning waterfall park in Krka, Croatia, been hit on by strange, creepy, and possibly Polish men in Liverpool, performed a belly dance routine in front of my whole school in Rome, drank whiskey with two other English teachers in Edinburgh, gone on a ghost bus tour in Dublin…and the list goes on and on.

7.

When traveling you accept the good and bad, because it is always worth it. Yes the disasters make good stories, but they also make you stronger and more resilient. I’ve never been big on regrets, because I think you can always learn something from your mistakes.

For example, the next time I go to Edinburgh I will pay more attention when buying both train tickets and meat pies (also I will never forget my pants ever again).

8.

Photo Key

1. Edinburgh

2. Arthur's Seat, Edinburgh

3. Glasgow Cathedral

4. Glasgow Necropolis

5. Double rainbow in Edinburgh

6. Waiting for the bus in Dublin

7. Dublin

8. Grafton Street, Dublin

I have been procrastinating (what else is new)...

(Look, a picture. Finally. Guys, this is Hamburg. This beautiful city is where I live.)

Last week a student told me that American English sounded sexier than British English.

I didn't have the heart to tell him how very wrong he was.

Speaking of British English, I am off to the U.K. next week for my October break, and I am unbelievably excited. I may or may not have made a gigantic list of bookstores that I want to visit (I really, really miss English bookstores. There is apparently only one in Hamburg and I went there this week and it looks like a hobo with a hoarding problem lives there in the store, and it made my soul hurt, so I am definitely not going back).

But time for serious talks now. I’ve been writing and re-writing this for about a week, because I want to talk about changing, but I’ve been having a really hard time clearly articulating what I want to say, so I’m just going for it.

Some things never change. Coming back to Europe has reminded me that here, my wallet always weighs about ten pounds because of all of the one and two euro coins (but this also means I can pay for things entirely with coins, and that is awesome). Here, you always have to either bring your own bags to the grocery store, or you have to buy them (no free plastic bags). Here, I still break things as much as I do back home (I’m pretty sure I still owe my roommate a cutting board and a mug or two. Or three). Here, I still have the worst sense of direction ever, and am forever heading in the exact opposite direction of where I am supposed to be going.

But sometimes things do change. Graduating and moving to Germany has reminded me of this. People always talk about how they changed in college, or how they changed when they studied abroad, but it can be really hard to pinpoint the specifics of these changes and explain them in a way that makes sense to other people, but I am going to try.

When you are placed in a strange and new environment (i.e. college or a new country), you suddenly become hyper aware of the individual parts that make up who you are. Suddenly some parts aren't as important any more. Suddenly it isn't as important whether you grew up in a big city or a small town, or what you did in high school. Suddenly your friends and family members back home are no longer the absolute center of your focus, because you are making new friends and building a new “family”. 

Suddenly the past doesn't matter as much, because what people are interested in is who you are now, what you are doing now, and what you are planning on doing in the future.

And this is always proves to be problematic, because I’ve never been good with those subjects: the present and the future. The present has always been somewhat unsatisfactory for me, I have always been too easily distracted to stay in the moment and appreciate what is going on in my life right now. Instead I spend my time either remembering the good times that happened in the past, or making outlandish and unrealistic plans for the future. But the future has always been complicated for me too, for while I love making plans, inevitably I either change my mind, or I jump recklessly into something else without making any plans at all, or reality sets in, and I have to remind myself that yes, your school would notice if you simply didn't return from your weekend trip and instead decided to go live in Morocco.

But now, here in Hamburg and outside of my comfort zone, I am being forced to re-examine these things. I am being forced to stop and really look at who I am, here, now. And I am being forced to carefully re-think what it is I want to do with my life and my future.

Every time I have studied abroad (or started another year of college) this kind of re-examination has changed me. Sometimes it caused me to have the courage to stop hiding and being shy. Sometimes it allowed me to be myself more and not be afraid of what others think about me. Even now, having only been here a month, I just keep changing my mind about myself and who I am and who I want to be. Do I really want to get my masters and then work at a college? Do I want to teach English instead? Do I want to go on some trip and simply never come back? Other questions keep popping up too, like why does everyone keep badgering me about getting married? How will I ever be able to pay off my student loans if I keep spending all of my money on travel? What would happen if I just up and decided to move to London or Paris or Cairo after my work contract ends in June?

It seems like every day I change my mind and rethink my choices. Am I ever going to really figure out what I want to do and who I want to be? Maybe. Am I going to continue dreaming up impossible scenarios in the meantime? Absolutely. Am I going to buy a ridiculous amount of books in Scotland and Ireland next week? Most definitely.

Warning: this is a real rambly one (and I have just decided that "rambly" is a word)

As I am off to Munich on Friday for Oktoberfest (and I am not going to have any fun and I am not going to drink any beer. None. None beers. Hahahahaha who am I kidding, bring it on Oktoberfest), I figured this post should be a little early.

I have been in Hamburg for a month now. How strange. I am finally feeling more settled in, I now have a German cell phone (oh god, I’ve become one of those people who have multiple phones, just like Man-Whore-Pete-From-My-Jet Blue-Flight, but that’s a story for another day), I have visited a concentration camp (why do I feel that this is some dark and sinister, but necessary, rite of passage for being in Germany?), I have figured out how to handle the whole trash/paper/recycling situation in my apartment (as well as the washer, and holy shit I didn't realize how amazing it is to have a washer in your apartment where you can wash your clothes for free. Whenever you feel like it. Does this mean I will no longer own a month’s worth of underwear and put off doing laundry until the last minute? Nope, not by a long shot), and I am continuing to ride the struggle bus that is my understanding of the German language (case in point: when sitting in a park reading, let’s say you are approached by a cute German guy who has set up his tripod and is taking pictures of the park. Cute German Guy gestures towards his camera and tripod and goes off on a tangent about said camera/tripod, then asks about the book that you are reading, and tries to make conversation. Do you a) try to get by with your limited German, but generally make the best of it, b) say very politely that you don’t understand what he just said but you hope that he speaks a little English because damn he’s cute and judging by the excess of photography gear you’d have lots to talk about, or c) look like a deer caught in headlights, nod a lot, giggle, smile, pretend to understand, and then say goodbye and extract yourself from the situation, only to realize a few minutes later that three weeks without normal social interaction was starting to take its toll, and shit, you had really handled that situation poorly).

Anyway.

To fuel my love of lists, and celebrate my first month here, I shall now elaborate on what I love about Hamburg so far, what I miss about Boston, and what I do not miss about Boston:

Things I love about Hamburg

1. The fact that there are so many gardens here that it never has that city smell; it just smells like fresh air and fallen leaves (I may or may not be freaking out innocent bystanders by taking really deep breaths of the fresh air. Whatever Germans, maybe I really like breathing enthusiastically okay?)

2. Their public transit, which is remarkably fast and efficient (my only qualm is that paying for tickets is based on an honor system. And I have only seen the transit police once in the month that I’ve been here, and this is really testing my ability to be a good person/law abiding citizen. It’s like they are daring me to try to use their delightful public transportation for free) (They aren't daring me. And with my luck the first time I try to use the bus sans ticket will be the time the transit police show up and then they’ll handcuff me and I will probably cry. The End).

3. The food (GUYS THEY LIKE SAUERKRAUT AS MUCH AS I DO), the beer, and my local grocery store Sky, which I like to call “The Holy Grail of Grocery Stores”, because I’m pretty sure it’s the best grocery store ever.

Things I miss about Boston

1. David’s Tea, Thai food from A @ Time, shawerma from Garlic ‘n Lemons, all of the vegan baked goods from Fomu, and my daily Arizona iced tea and Sabra hummus at work (also Pop Tarts. For some reason I really want Pop Tarts.)

2. My daily walk to and from Seaport to Park Street (my daily walk to and from school here involves too many shops and grocery stores for me to get distracted by. “Oh sorry I’m late for work guys, I stopped to get tea and then accidentally went grocery shopping and then bought a bejeweled skull and a house plant”) (Just kidding, I can’t buy a houseplant, I would kill it. I do have an orchid in my room, but I’ve been told that those are hard to kill. Challenge accepted) (Also, there is actually a housewares store on my way to school that is selling a bejeweled skull. And I kind of want it).

3. My friends and my cat (who is currently in a cone of shame. My cat, not my friends. Although a few of them could use a cone of shame every once in a while. I LOVE AND MISS YOU GUYS THOUGH), and all of the hipsters in Allston (I have yet to find the part of Hamburg inhabited by pierced, tattooed peoples who play multiple musical instruments, wear beanie hats, and sometimes walk their dog while riding a skateboard).

Things I don’t miss about Boston

1. The green line/Boston’s public transportation in general (Let’s talk about the German public transportation again for a hot second. The buses come every five minutes. Every. Five. Minutes. Sometimes they even come early, which I didn't even know was a possibility. Also I have yet to encounter as many crazies as the green line has. For instance, no one has been flinging sherbet around and then starting fistfights and then making out with their “pregnant” lesbian girlfriend. But again, that’s a story for another day).

2. Working retail (‘Nuff said).

3. The onslaught of college students/youths overtaking the city (I’m talking to you, BU students who get on the T at Pleasant Street and then get off at BU Central. JUST WALK TEN MINUTES LIKE A NORMAL HUMAN BEING).

And there we have it. Congrats to whoever is still reading this, but I did warn you that there was going to be a lot of rambling nonsense and parentheses. At least I am a woman of my word.

(We will end this with more parentheses, because I read somewhere that blog posts should only be like 700 words because people get bored and won’t read it, but there are lists here, so I feel like it doesn't count. Also I used enough italics and unnecessary caps lock that I figured I would hold your attention for a while. Next time I am going to attempt to add pictures!)

And now I'm gonna tell it like it is...

So having read a bunch of travel blogs recently, I thought that maybe I should write a disclaimer.

DISCLAIMER: This is not going to be a normal travel blog. If you are expecting a play by play of my daily life in Germany, it’s not gonna happen (no one needs to know what I am doing every single day for almost a year). If you are expecting detailed descriptions of all of the food that I eat, it’s not gonna happen (no one needs to know the amount of beer I have been drinking and the number of bags of German candy I have demolished). And if you are expecting touristy photos of me posing in front of famous monuments, it’s also not gonna happen (and not just because I have yet to figure out how to post pictures).

Here’s what you should expect:

1. Descriptions of the funny, weird, awkward, and stupid stuff that will inevitably happen to me.

2. The occasional post about vegan/dairy-free food and restaurants, since gorging myself on the local butter-and-milk filled delicacies is sadly not going to be a thing.

3. Artsy fartsy photos because I’m into that sort of shit (very much amused myself by adding “fartsy” to my dictionary just now).

4. Long rambling parentheticals and possible footnotes.

And 5. An honest and frank description of what it is like to leave your job, friends, family, and life behind and start all over in a foreign country, and some insight into why I travel, why I am interested in education, and so on and so forth, blah, blah, blah.

Long story short, this isn't going to be some cheerful, optimistic travel itinerary. I’m going tell it like it really is, because apparently I’m on some kind of weird streak this year where I have upped my brutal honesty a notch to “has no secrets and tells no lies”.

So prepare yourselves. It’s gonna get real.

(P.S. Also as an afterthought, if anyone ever has any questions that they want me to answer or write about, feel free to comment here, Facebook message me, etc, etc.)

Now, having said all of that, here is the real deal. I have been in Germany for three weeks now, and yes, I have done some pretty cool stuff so far, but being here has by no means been easy. I am now slightly stranded here in Hamburg as I wait for my debit card to arrive to replace the one that was compromised (which I found out about an hour before I left the United States), my German is sub-par and when I attempt to speak it the Germans have a habit of just switching to English and not even trying to teach/humor me, I have destroyed two pairs of headphones in two weeks (don’t ask), I accidentally dyed all of my bras blue (again, don’t ask), I have no friends here, the school that I work at is slightly frustrating (it’s all teenage boys…youths…cue eye roll), I probably will not get paid for another month-month and a half, I am still not used to the German obsession with keeping their doors closed (I have been informed repeatedly that it is not because they are rude/angry, they just like having their doors closed all of the time…weird) and obeying traffic laws, and all of this is amplified by the fact that I am alone in a foreign country.

But you know what? I’m going to be okay. I know that this is just the tricky part, the adjusting part, the part that I have never been good at. I know that the next stage, when I start to settle in and make an actual life for myself and build a happy existence, that stage will be amazing. Not many people get the opportunity to experience something like this, and I can either resist it and it will happen anyway while I hide in the corner in denial, or I can embrace it and adapt to my current situation.

And let me tell you, as soon as my debit card gets here and I have money, I’m gonna go out and “embrace it” and “adapt” by taking myself out for dinner and more German beer.

Tschuss!

A new segment that I like to call “Odd conversations that I have had with Germans”

 My teacher, after we grabbed lunch together, “May I invite you?”

Me, “I’m sorry?”

Teacher, “May I invite you?”

Me, “To what?”

Teacher, “Lunch! Can I pay for your lunch?”

Me, “Ohhhhh, uh, yes, thank you”

(still not sure what got lost in translation there)

My roommate, after I told him I lived in Boston, “Weren’t there terrorist attacks there?”

Me, “Uhh, yes, the marathon bombings”

Him, “Are they seeking the death penalty?”

Me, “Um, I don’t know if they have the death penalty in Massachusetts” (fyi, Mass does not have the death penalty)

Him, “…some of the 9/11 terrorists were from Hamburg”

Me, “Uhh, wow, um, I didn’t know that…good to know”

(My German professor wasn’t kidding, Germans really don’t do small talk)

A random guy on the street who approached me (keep in mind the entire conversation was in German), “Are you from Hamburg?”

Me, “No…”

Him, “I just had to stop you because I find you very attractive and I had to say hello”

Me, “Uhh…thank you?”

Him (grabbing my hand and shaking it for an awkwardly long time, all while counting out the number of times he was shaking my hand), “Eins, zwei, drei, vier, funf, sechs, sieben…”

Me, nodding and trying to pull my hand away and extract myself from the situation, “Uh huh…”

Him, pulling me closer to him and continuing to hold my hand, “…(something fast and in German that I wasn’t able to understand)…”

Me, shaking my head no, “Nope, nope, gotta go”

Him, finally letting go of my hand, “Ciao!”

(I don’t even know what to say about this conversation)

One of the rowdier classes at my school, who interrogated me on the first day, “How old are you?”

Me, “23”

Them, “Have you ever been to L.A.?”

Me, “No…”

Them, “Have you ever been to Las Vegas?”

Me, “Well I was in the airport once…”

Them, “Is alcohol cheaper here than it is in the U.S.?”

Me, “YES”

Them, “Do you like German beer?”

Me, “YES”

Them, “Do you have Jewish ancestry?”

Me, “Umm…no”

Them, “What is the difference between American English and British English?”

Me, “Well British English sounds a whole lot better…”

(and then they proceeded to argue about who was going to take me out and show me the Hamburg nightlife)

My other roommate and her friends, upon discovering that I have a dairy allergy, “So…no milk?”

Me, “Nope”

Them, “…no butter?”

Me, “Nope”

Them, “…not even if it’s been cooked?”

Me, “Uhh… no”

Them, shaking their heads in disbelief and shock, “…no milk…”

(while they do understand the concept of a dairy allergy, Germans seem to see it as a huge life tragedy, which means I spend a lot of time saying things like, “Oh, it’s not that bad! It could be worse, it could be a soy allergy or a wheat allergy!”)

Week One, in which I encounter troubles with the language barrier and then make myself feel better by buying food

What Germans mean when they say “Oh my English isn’t very good”: “Well I might have a bit of an accent, but otherwise my English is damn near perfect”.

What I mean when I say “Oh my German isn’t very good”: “No, guys, really, it’s not good. Like, I understand about half of what you are saying…and you’re still trying because you think I actually understand…okay…I’m just gonna nod. Nodding seems good. Yes, yes, I totally know what’s going on…wait, what?”

I have been in Hamburg for over a week now, not including the four days that I was in Cologne for orientation (which was an experience which can best be summed up in a message that I sent to my sister, which went something like “SWEET BABY JESUS GET ME OUT OF HERE”), and I can say that while my German is adequate for touristy things such as “How much does this cost?”, “Thank you”, “Excuse me”, and ordering food (which is the only thing that matters really), for actually living in Hamburg it is not so good. When taking two years of college level German, you tend not to concern yourself with the kind of vocabulary that could enable you to open a bank account, get a residency permit, and convey to your fellow teachers that you are not, in fact, an actual idiot. Instead, you memorize colors, kinds of clothing, food (which I’m not mad about because, as I said, it’s really the only thing that matters), and the past tense (WHY WOULD I NEED TO KNOW HOW TO SAY THINGS IN THE PAST IF I CAN’T EVEN REMEMBER HOW TO SAY THEM IN THE PRESENT), none of which proves to be helpful when you are trying to tell someone that you have an appointment at 12:30 and they are looking at you like you have satanic horns and a pitchfork.

Having said that, Germans are the nicest. Seriously, they are so polite, and blonde, and smiley, and every other phrase out of their mouths is “Danke schon” and “Tschuss” and “Hallo!!” And, as my roommate told me the first night that I was in Hamburg, “Germans like to drink always”, meaning that they are my kind of people.

However…they don’t jaywalk. Someone warned me about this beforehand, and I brushed it off, thinking, oh sure, a whole city of people who obey traffic laws, yeah right.

Yeah. Right.

And then I got to a crosswalk, and observed the other pedestrians…who waited, oh so patiently while there were absolutely no cars coming, for what felt like an eternity, for the crosswalk light to turn green. This has proven to be a frustrating daily struggle for me, as I went from living in the middle of nowhere, where I could probably take a nap in the middle of the street if I really wanted to, to living in Boston, where four years of city living taught me to become freakishly good at predicting traffic lights and dodging oncoming vehicles (and I only once almost got hit by a bus). So now I stand on the sidewalk, shifting impatiently from foot to foot and glancing around to check for cops and figure out if I can just make a run for it.

Aside from reluctantly becoming a law abiding pedestrian for perhaps the first time in my life, I have been enjoying myself immensely thus far. I have been scoping out every (vegan) restaurant and grocery store in my area (if you think that I’m joking I am not. I have hit up no less than five different grocery stores in the past week. Food is my life guys), taking tons of pictures (and I just bought a 32 GB media card today, so now I should be set for the rest of the year/my life), and, of course, window shopping. This coming week I will be at my school a little bit more, and I am sure I will have plenty of stories involving life in the classroom after that. In the meantime, I miss you guys, and feel free to message me if you want more stories.