Europe: Greetings from Neumünster

I find it incredibly difficult to write when I’m in the thick of things. The craziness of the past few days is still sinking in, even now that I’m at my Uncle Steve’s house in Neumünster, Germany, looking out at rain pattering picturesquely on the lawn. (I had forgotten what green looks like: the drought in the Midwest this year has made everything so brown…) The short story I’ll give you for now is this: I did not adjust to Europe smoothly. It wasn’t language barrier, culture shock, or homesickness— it was jet lag, unfamiliar pay phones, and just plain sickness. I’ve felt horrible the past few days, like my body has to keep running when there is no battery to charge it. I’ve had muscle aches and allergic reactions and bouts of nausea. Dehydration has been my constant companion. On my first two days in Europe I only ate one actual meal, filling in the rest with Clif bars. Things like pay toilets and currency exchange rates drain my wallet faster than I can blink. I’ve been working so hard on logistics and staying awake and finding places that I haven’t really enjoyed anywhere I’ve been. Until today.

Today, I sat in a lawn chair at Uncle Steve’s house and looked out at his backyard, surrounded by wheat fields, and I fell asleep for about an hour. When I woke up, I felt worlds better. Uncle Steve brought out a bicycle for me. I hopped on, shaky and out of practice, then gave it a run on the path near his house. I pedaled quickly, watching the corn and wheat fields zoom by, speckled by crows. A spotty rain began to fall, marked with patches of sunlight. Wildflowers— purple, white, and of course, yellow— sprinkled color by the side of the path. My clothes were speckled with water, and the cool drops felt good on my skin. My hair flew out behind me, the breeze caressing it. For the first time in Europe, I felt really awake for the first time.

After a short run, I returned, and then Uncle Steve and I biked to the market, past fields and trees and village houses, to buy some snacks. 

Now it’s pouring rain and I’m indoors looking out at it and not wanting to write. It’s too much to take in. I feel like I have to step back and let my mind sort out the things it wants to keep, the things it wants to delve into. In the meantime, I quietly plan the next stage of my journey, and pray that it works out.

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