But, in the vein of my old story-telling traditions, I am going to back up and share all of the little memories that punctuated my trip here.
One notable moment: Mom dropping me off at the airport. I hopped out, grabbed my bags (which included checked luggage for once), and we said goodbye like I was going to see her at the end of the day rather than in six months. I'm not sure if that reflects how much older I am getting that half a year hardly registers as a notable amount of time, or if I am getting better at avoiding emotional farewells. This doesn't come across so well as a story, but since Mom and I laughed at the fact that we were being so nonchalant about my departure, it seemed worth sharing.
So, the checked luggage: this was planned in advance because I thought I was going to bring OYO whiskey to my friends here in Marbach. OYO is a wheat whiskey made locally in Ohio, and one of my uncles in Alabama had specifically requested a bottle when I went down for a family reunion in October. I thought the stuff must be pretty good to warrant a request like that, so I planned to bring a bottle with me to Germany to wow my friends with Ohio quality and dynamism. After trying two types of OYO (the wheat whiskey and the mixed bourbon whiskey) and getting mixed reviews on both, I thought maybe the wheat whiskey was worth bringing to my friends. Once I realized my hosts had just been to Ireland buying a bunch of great Irish whiskey, it seemed like a less amazing way to demonstrate the awesomeness of my hometown. So instead of bringing whiskey in my checked luggage, I brought an espresso machine in my carry-on luggage (and, who would've thunk it, but that made more than one TSA dude raise an eyebrow).
I realize as I write this that it might not make immediate sense to readers why I would bring an espresso machine from the States to Germany for my friends here, but it actually makes fantastic sense: they use a Nespresso machine and mechanical milk frother to make their espresso drinks every day, but no one uses those as much as I do when I am here, so I kind of import a lot of espresso tool wear-and-tear with me. Since I happened to obtain a European Nespresso machine that had built-in frothing capacities while I was in the States, it seemed (and, I would say, was) eminently sensible for me to bring that along with me to add to their stock of kitchen toys. Admittedly, I am not sure that anyone has used it yet other than me, but I still like to believe that at least the thought counted on this one.
I realize as I write this that it might not make immediate sense to readers why I would bring an espresso machine from the States to Germany for my friends here, but it actually makes fantastic sense: they use a Nespresso machine and mechanical milk frother to make their espresso drinks every day, but no one uses those as much as I do when I am here, so I kind of import a lot of espresso tool wear-and-tear with me. Since I happened to obtain a European Nespresso machine that had built-in frothing capacities while I was in the States, it seemed (and, I would say, was) eminently sensible for me to bring that along with me to add to their stock of kitchen toys. Admittedly, I am not sure that anyone has used it yet other than me, but I still like to believe that at least the thought counted on this one.
My luggage was not the only eyebrow raiser I was traveling with. I also brought this amazing hat that a friend gave to me. It looks like a miniature sweater-wearing bear is hugging my head -- in a good way. When Mom first saw it, she pointed out that if I ever regretted chopping my hair (by the way, I chopped of most of my hair), I could just put this hat on because it gives me a pretty full head of faux fur. At every airport I spent time in on this trip, people asked me about my hat (usually in a "so, what country are you from that you wear that thing?" kind of way) or complimented the pluck I must have to wear it. I should probably take that as an indication that it does not look nearly as stunningly gorgeous as I think it does, but I am completely unwilling to take the hint. I love my hat, and it is going with me wherever there might be cold.
Anyhow, my flight wasn't particularly notable except for one beautiful moment on the hop from Atlanta to Stuttgart. I was in an aisle seat, and could see a passenger (an older woman) making her way from the front to the back of the plane while an attendant was backing up the same aisle from the back to the front of the plane, pulling a drink cart. The passenger seemed to expect the attendant to clear out of the aisle at any moment despite there being so detours along her intended route, so as the attendant backed up, the passenger did not get out of the way, but confusedly backed up just one step at a time as though she was forced to give ground that she would prefer to stand. The funniest part about it was how each the passenger and attendant were kind of leaning forward in this process so that as the passenger backed up and the attendant continued backing nearly into her, it looked as though the two were awkwardly twerking their way down the aisle. I am sad to report that no one else seemed to notice how hilarious this interaction was, so I laughed alone on this one.
After arriving in Stuttgart at 8:30am, I quickly grabbed my checked bag and was soon on the train from the airport to Stuttgart's main train station (Stuttgart Hbf), and then from there on another train to Marbach.
Just after departing Stuttgart Hbf, I encountered a ticket-checking agent for the first time -- well, for the first time on a local train. The guy seemed kind of sly about it, like he was working undercover. I don't know if that was intentional, or just my interpretation of the moment because I'm too unfamiliar with the system to spot the signs of a ticket checker. Anyway, the guy next to me didn't have his ticket, so the ticketless passenger had to fill out information on a paper pad so that the train office could reach him, I guess. No ID was required (or else the guy claimed he didn't have it -- like I said, I don't speak or understand German), and it seemed like they were kind of going on the honor system by letting the kid fill out the information on his own. It struck me as strange, but I must say that I like imagining that this corner of the world can go by the honor system. It's probably not an accurate depiction of the place, but I'm keeping my illusion while I can afford to.
When I arrive at the Marbach train station, it is in the valley of Marbach. I live on a berg (mountain), meaning that I carted my luggage a mile uphill. I thought I was going to hate that walk, but it was a brilliantly cool, cloudy day (my favorite), and the walk was no problem even with a broken wheel on my checked bag. That was when the sense of home started. It just felt absolutely right to be in Marbach at that moment. That sense only grew stronger when I arrived at my friend's house (everyone was at work, so I had the place to myself for the day) and found my newly finished room, which is, like, the size of two bedrooms with the furniture of one bedroom, leaving lots of open space for my to twirl about in the joy of being here. And just outside of my room is this lovely view:
There is actually a better view in another direction, but I can't do it justice in photos because, in person, I focus on the patchwork farms and cliffside vineyards on the other side of the river, but, in photos, you primarily see the trees in the yard that are both bare and disturbingly budding.
After unpacking, I went straight to one of my favorite grocery stores, Lidl, that is right by the train station. I love buying cheese, eggs, and processed meat here because there are so many options and the prices are fantastic, even at non-discount grocery stores. I also got feldsalat, a tender baby green with thunmbprint-sized leaves. Feldsalat translates as "field salad" but is known in English as "corn salad" or "lamb's lettuce" because the plant that these leaves grow on was a weed on corn and wheat fields (so says Wikipedia). Just learned that.
Here is a photo of one of the streets in the Aldstadt (Old Town) part of Marbach that I almost always walk past on my way back from the store (never to the store, now that I think of it...):
Again, it's not nearly as charming in the photograph as it is in person, but my mind is still blown by the fact that this town has been here for hundreds of years, and many of these houses that have been here for centuries are only a part of its more recent history. It is hard for me to find information specific to Marbach's past, perhaps because I only look for English sources due to the awkwardness of Google translate results. Here, they say that Marbach was a thing and had a market more than a thousand (thousand!) years ago. From a local beer brewer, I learned that there was a fire here in Marbach that cracked the old wall. I thought he said it took place in medieval times, but a look at the German Wikipedia page for Marbach seems to indicate that it was a planned fire in the 17th century (hey, what's 200 years? Nothing around here.). His brewery is built in the "new" section (still 300 years old) against the cracked old wall but within the confines of the new wall.
Work is calling, and I can't think of a segue out, so I'm just going to opt for an abrupt ending to this post.
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