Author: Jess Boctor

Today I spent my morning cleaning up our room and I was just amazed at how beautiful the fall colors were. After finishing up the chores I grabbed the camera and snapped a few shots from our window to share with everyone.

So we have been here a week now.

I don’t count Tuesday, it was all a foggy memory.

Today, however, is Wednesday. Today was our first real day in Düsseldorf, and so today marks our first real week. Here is what I have been learning so far:

Life goes on.

In the mornings I often walk the dogs with Evelyn. Sabine runs to fast and Frodo always waits until he thinks Evelyn is not looking. We wander the city. To the Geldautomat so Paul and I can fund our adventure. To the video store. To the grocery store. 

Friends, Alan and Veronika, come and pick us up. They drive us around the city to take care of some basics; a new cell phone, train passes, dönner, and where we can buy clothes warm enough to let us survive the impending winter.

The next afternoon Evelyn and I try to do something creative. She paints a canvas bigger than I have been brave enough to approach. I fold papers to make a book. Just as everything is laid out Paul comes home from helping a friend and wants to know what we are planning for dinner. Spaghetti; he staggers upstairs and heads for the shower.

Dinner time and the rest of the family fast appraoches. I pack up my work and wander to the kitchen. Evelyn is still wrapped up in her painting so I take out the ground beef. Paul comes in a moment later, “Shouldn’t you cook the onions first?” I am demoted to making the salad.

We call the family to dinner, Johannes eats quickly and returns to his video game. He waited the entire week to play it. Carla corrects my use of a male third person preposition in refering to Sabine, who is certainly female. 

Tomorrow I will go to town to buy new shoes, weather proof shoes, and maybe a warmer sweater. Paul will help our friend with his house rennovations and life will go on.

 

We have had amazing weather in Germany this past week. The air is pinch-your-cheeks-rose cold but the sun has been shining. I have been astounded at how crisp and vibrant the bright light makes the colors around us. I took my camera out today to see if I could share some of this with you.

It’s 5:24 AM. I have already been up an hour and since sleep seems more and more out of reach as my brain revs up for today, I thought I would write a quick update about our first day in Düsseldorf.

We arrived on Tuesday very late and woke up on Wednesday very early. We wandered out to the banks of the Rhein with Evelyn to let Frodo and Sabine run. When we came home again, we shared breakfast and then Paul and I crashed. In the afternoon, Evelyn went to pick up Carla from school and I wandered out into the city on my own. Paul stayed home in the safety of our bed.

I got lost.

Of course I got lost, what else would you expect from me. I wandered the city until I found the Rhein again and followed it where we had walked the dogs that morning. I at least knew I was in the right area than and so I stopped and asked for directions. 

The first attempt was a failure. There was a gentleman who was watching me, I assumed because it was so utterly obvious I was lost. Apparently not. When I finally stopped and asked him if he could direct me to Peter-Krahestr he didn’t speak German. I asked if he spoke english; no joy. However, he did manage an encouraging, “Ein Caffe?” 

Nein. Danke.

I hurried away in search of better intel. I found a hotel and stopped to ask again. They were able to point me in the right direction and even let me use a phone to call Paul and let him know I wasn’t dead. Just to be sure I was on the right path, I stopped again when I thought I was about halfway home and made sure I was going the correct way.

This is when it hit me–people were answering me in German. This seems like a logical thing for them to do, however, most Germans speak English very well. Most Germans auto-revert to English as soon as they hear you stumble over their sentence structure but no one has done this to me today. They hear and understand my awkward phrasing and answer me as if I will understand what they are saying, and I do. Most of the time.

Once I finally made it home Evelyn was sitting on the couch reading to the kids. We cooked dinner and I helped set the table. After the kids and Paul went to bed, I sit up with Birger and Evelyn. They drink beer and I drink water, we talk about community, marriage, false ideas of romance and I share with them a tidbit I had written in my journal on the flight over: 

“True love isn’t a magical kiss which wakes you up. It’s when your husband lets you put your feet in his lap in economy class to keep your ankles from swelling.”

Soon we are all tired. It takes us a moment to realize we don’t have to learn everything about each other this first night, though it is tempting, because there’s always tomorrow. And the day after.

Maybe on those days I’ll have my camera.

Flying away is the same. We drive away from Riverside; 91, 605, 105 and park at LAX. We check in at the Tom Bradley terminal; number 4. Lufthansa is the same, the stewardess are the same in navy blue suits and pops of yellow scarfs. The airplan food is the same. Take off, sleeping, movies, engines droning, landing; they are all the same.

Leaving is different. We aren’t coming back right away; we aren’t staying long when we do. My mother weeps, my father is cracked. My niece asks why we are going so far away. Paul’s parents are brave and I know his dad is paying for it later. Friends wish us well, Paul and I sometimes wonder if we’re attending our own funeral. I sit in my seat on the plane and I’m not sure if I want to throw up, cry or just sleep it all away. Excitement boils with angst of what comes next.

The welcoming is the same. We arrive and are delivered to the Bätcke’s home. They are happy to see us and a table is laid out with sandwiches. We are offered whatever we want to eat or drink; the children fawn over Sabine. They keep insisting that we tell them if we need something; suspicious we are holding out on them a need they can fill.

The people are different. They are new but they are not strangers. Birger sits with a perpetual grin on his face, Evelyn translates for her daughter Carla who wants Sabine to sleep in her bed. Johannes, who speaks very good english for an 11 year old boy, asks about funny idioms and if they translate directly from German into English. Things like rooster water and atom mushroom. Carla wants to know if I watch the OC.

The streets are the same. Interlocking pavers give way to square stones and my feet fall in the same rythem they always do. Houses sit along the sidewalks with small gardens full of things which will grow even when you don’t want them to. Moss taints tree bark and the liter of leaves from oaks and wild berry bushes contrast yellow with grey. Rain drops fall on my head as traffic speeds past me.

The way is different. I walk into a city I don’t know and I get lost. I wander until I find the Rhein, flowing towards me lazy, green and massive to my desert eyes. I follow it until I see something familiar and then I stop to ask for directions. I am on my way again but unsure of these new streets which seem to shift when I’m not looking. The ease of walking in Trier is gone.

God is the same.

I am different. I’m on an adventure.