Welcome Home?
I had given up hope I would ever finish, but over the holidays Angela and Clark both mentioned that I had failed to deliver on finishing my blog. So… Here it is:
A year ago, I spent each day regretting not doing more in Europe: regretting not eating more, seeing more, visiting more, learning more, speaking more. I regretted not doing more. Each day I longed for a train to carry me back through the Alps, rain soaked-cobbled roads to wander, European men to day dream about, and divine foods on street carts to eat. It was all I could think of— what I was missing; I couldn’t think of what I’d done in Germany, where I’d been, the people I’d met, and what all of that had done for me, and what I’d brought home.
My friends all joke that every time I speak about anything, I bring up my time in Germany. And, to be fair, I do. But, what they don’t understand is: how could I not?
I arrived alone, scared and excited for, well, I didn’t really know what. But, immediately upon arrival, I met Eliott, a young Englishmen that had joined the Royal Navy. He woke me up from a nap. At first, I was rather upset, after all, he had just disturbed the only sleep I’d had in about 3 days. But, he stood looking at a very sleep deprived, disheveled American girl and stuck out his hand and introduced himself: “I’m Eliott, this is Ramona. What’s your name? Would you like to eat with us?” Now, whether he was sent by someone, sought me out, or just heard there was the most shockingly wonderful American girl down the hall, I don’t know. I just know he was the first of many people to welcome me. He chuckled when I tried to eat pizza the “American” way, but then showed me the way I wouldn’t stick out while eating. He taught me British slang, tid-bits about the Royal Navy and about the English school system. He was nothing but kind to me. I met others, just as kind, just as fun. A gaggle of Royal Navy officers: Neville, Paul, Daniel, Dan and William. Some Polish officers, and some Germans, most notably: Markus. Markus accepted my very limited and weak German skills and offered to help me, help my German. He didn’t know me, but he knew that I was a student of German, and that he, as a speaker of German, could teach me. And he did, sometimes after laughing at me for a bit.
The kindness I encountered didn’t end with people I’d worked with, lived with, ate with or knew, people on busses and trains and shoppers in stores all helped readily. Anyone I sought help from, gave help.
Upon my arrival to Munich, I met many people that welcomed me. There was Theron, the boy in my class. And Kourtni, the girl down the hall. They both welcomed me. Kourtni was the first to welcome me in Munich. Sadly, this is probably the worst story I could tell, it paints me in rather poor light. Kournti is the daughter of a Marine Colonel and the sister to a number of young sibilings. She is unbelievably kind, but very self interested and a bit, annoying. I’d imagine it is hard for her to make friends. She is over bearing and intense, but nice. My first night in Munich, I had no friends. I knew no one. She and I went to dinner, watched a movie and got trapped in a terrible rain storm. Kourtni and I stayed friends for about one more day. She was weird and I was making friends. None of the other people I met, wanted to be friends with the weird, over bearing girl; so, I let her go. I wasn’t mean, just slowly stopped socializing with her, and then it was over. She invited me to things, I invited her to things, but it wasn’t sincere and somehow we’d always miss each other. I did skip out 10 minutes early to Oktoberfest in hopes of avoiding her. It was mean, and I should not have done it. But I did. Kourtni is a very nice girl, Kourtni welcomed me. Theron, my classmate, welcomed me. He was interesting and fun and American. As I had been out of the US for about a month, I missed Americans dearly. He welcomed me. He cooked me a delicious sandwich. And we became friends, being his friend came with all sorts of other friends. I met Luisa, an Italian beauty in my class that had befriended Theron a day earlier. I met people from Saudi Arabia, China, Japan, Greece, America, Brazil, Colombia, Chile, Spain, France… from all over the world. It was a truly global time for me.
When I left Munich, I was welcomed in Hamburg by a man that at first scared me. He seemed like he was a really good midshipman when he was a mid, and since I was a really bad one, I figured we’d be very different. But, later, he would turn out to be family. He welcomed me to Hamburg, and made very little fun of me when I got off at the wrong station. He offered me tips for the night: what to do to stay safe, where to go if I were interested in a Disko, club, church, avoiding Al Queda operatives, good foods to eat… He booked me a hotel room and drove me to my dorm the next day, all because he and I had attended the same college. No other reason. He didn’t know me, but he helped me. Then I met Rocky, my next door neighbor. He welcomed me, gave me food, toilet paper, directions to the shower, a spot in the fridge, a brief run down on the rules of the dorm and found me a ride to anyplace I needed to go. He welcomed me. Rocky carried my bags to my room, helped me setup my internet, offered to help in any way possible—even offered to take me skydiving! He was incredibly helpful and sincere. And he insisted on speaking German to me. I would text him in English, he would respond in German. At the time, I was a little frustrated. I was exhausted. Who knew speaking German could be so incredibly tiring? But, I am so grateful now. He got my entire floor speaking only German to me, it helped my German so much. After Rocky, there was Christian, then Benny, then Friedrich. They offered me all the things Rocky had and new things: sports teams to join, places to run, cool sights to see, to come home with them and see their little part of Germany, their life stories. One told me his tale of growing up in East Germany until he was a little boy and the lasting effects of the East-West divide in his life. They threw me a birthday party! They were so kind to me.
Then there was the exchange students: Mikkel, Mary, Josh, Stephen, Karolina, Kornelia, and Ted. They all welcomed me to join them on trips, excursions and adventures to explore the rest of Europe. They knew others too: the Stefans, both Germans and both full of knowledge and welcoming. Stefan B taught me the saying “Shoene Schuhe” and it’s significance in the German culture. And Stefan G taught me so much about Germany: the language, history, culture, what many Germans find strange about America. Again, they welcomed me.
Then, I return to the man that welcomed me to Hamburg, Curt. His wife welcomed me to their home. Then, into their family. I stayed in a spare bedroom, played with their son Nik. Lived and learned and enjoyed sharing our collective culture shock and frustration with them. They welcomed me into their home, their life and their family. They are three of the kindest people I have ever encountered.
Throughout my travels, so many people welcomed my into their homes: Iben, Bobonne, Francis, Sabrina’s family… This list goes on forever. And I am forever grateful to all of these people.
This is not everyone I met in Germany, just a small sampling. But, the story I am telling is that everywhere, everywhere I went I was welcomed.
It was something I had never experienced before. As many people know, I am catty and petty and childish. I am judgmental and needy and rude. I often wont help someone because they had previously scorned me. But, while I was in Europe, no one ever failed to help me: learn, adjust, be comfortable, have fun. My every need was attended to by the strangers I met and befriended.
Back to that first person, Eliott. Months later, he invited Markus and me to a ball. We had an amazing time. It was an unforgettable trip. I saw so many (strange) new things, met so many interesting people, and had a blast. But, when I got snowed out of London, who welcomed me into his home? Eliott. He invited me to his place, gave me a place to sleep, food to eat, and taught me a tradition of popping open these crackers and wearing a paper crown.
(This Christmas we tried out the poppers. They were different and very weird to us, as we’d never done anything like it before, but we had a little bit of fun.)
I ate Christmas Pudding and drank traditional drinks and we even watched an episode of Hollyoaks. We went to a mall and saw Father Christmas, ate traditional English cuisine as well as some Subway and he gave me a trip I would never forget. It was an unbelievable adventure.
So, a year later, I think what I’ve learned from all this is that the key to happiness, adventure and education is to welcome and be welcomed. To allow strangers to wake you and not be furious, to help the girl whose bag bust open on the train, to say yes to anyone that invites you into their home, to be comfortable with the kindness of others and with being kind to others. Welcome opportunity, adventure and excitement, but also welcome all of the people you meet along the way. Welcome the mutual friends, the coworkers, the similarly situtationed, the less informed, the more informed, the lost and looking, and allow those that can to welcome you. Because my time in Germany was possible because people welcomed me into their lives.
