Baby Steps

REMEMBER, KIDS: DON'T LEAVE YOUR PASSPORT AT HOME.

EVER.

YES, THIS MERITS ALL CAPS.

No, nothing happened, but I realized that, upon waiting at the Zollamt after getting lost for twenty minutes prior to arrival, I did not have my passport on my person. I told myself to stay calm, and I did--which, as some of you may know, is a big step for me. I'm proud of myself. I have had a package waiting for me since Wednesday, and I had been dragging my feet about picking it up because I didn't know where the post office was. But, as I am supposedly taking a couple of day trips Tuesday and Wednesday, I knew that I needed to pick it up today. I looked at a map and realized that I could walk to the post office from the Franzoesischer Garten, so, with a stern face and a sterner determination, I set off (in a bad mood, but being an adult dictates that one needs to fulfill responsibility even in a bad mood).

Of course, I went the wrong way down the street, spotted a post office, realized that it re-opened at 14:00, and waited around for fifteen minutes until a gentleman informed me that I was at the wrong place. Then more wandering ensued for about ten more minutes until I reached the Zollamt (not being above asking a pair of tourists where it was located). I approached the counter and ran into more obstacles, since the nice man at this location informed me that I needed an invoice--but, being almost in tears at this point, since it had been a rather bad day, after all, does actually help. He let me open the package to see if it included an invoice and, lo and behold! there one was. So, in the end, I received my package.

After that little misadventure, I met Maryle and her friend, Sarah, at the Altstadt, wherein we trekked over to this really cute (it really is cute) tea shop named Tee Kanzlei. Upon my search for some strong Irish Breakfast tea (my favorite tea, by the way), we came across a middle-aged gentleman who turned out to be a New Yorker. Imagine that. He was a rather jovial fellow, bilingual, and evidently owns the shop and visits every year. He was, to say the least, very entertaining and seemed rather impressed that Maryle and I are actually living here in Celle. Random encounters make me content.

And, yes, I found my Irish Breakfast tea. I've just tasted it. It is a mouthful of lovely.

Tired, hungry, and a bit melancholy, I returned to my flat. Admittedly, I am in a better mood now, reflecting the day's events and taking in my small accomplishment of finding the Zollamt by myself (and finding my blasted passport, which was in my other bag). Baby steps.

I have more events to recount, such as Sunday's Verkaufsoffen, but for now I shall enjoy the rest of my tea and dream of better days. Or mental states, at least.