This morning, while walking to the school courtyard from the bus stop, I heard a noise. I looked up at the building, and the students of 2a were waving at me from the window, excitedly shouting, "Hallo, Jenni!! Good morning!"
...Tee-hee.
It is a full moon tonight. Such a lovely shade of yellow.
Showing posts with label life is good. Show all posts
Showing posts with label life is good. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Monday, November 2, 2009
"We Could Get Along, But We Never Did Belong"
I feel good today; it appears that a weight has been lifted from my shoulders, and I'm not entirely sure why. It has nothing to do with anything or anyone in particular, but today seems good. Yesterday evening was much the same. I'm at peace.
Good luck making that last. But, hey, I can have a sublimely silly day every once in a while.
So, I attended the Hannover Staatsoper Saturday night for Puccini's La Boheme. It was, quite simply, lovely. Hannover has a strong cast, and the sets, costumes (for the most part), and the sound were very good. Though the orchestra tended to drown out the singers at times, this could have been only from where I was sitting--which was a really good seat, albeit on the left side. My favorite voices were Marcello's and Colline's, though Rodolfo's tenor was smooth and strong (mostly). Musetta brought some pep to the crew, which was a nice touch to the ensemble's diverse personalities. Mimi, however, was a little underwhelming, but only in acting--her voice, to me, was lovely. My only quip is that she was a bit too stiff in movement, which provided no real umph to her personality. Regardless, I liked this Mimi, and I would certainly see this cast again in another piece. Added bonus: I went to the opera on Halloween!
As it was late upon the return to Celle, I managed to try out the AnrufsSammelTaxi service that is offered when the buses don't run for the usual bus fare (which is so much cheaper than an actual taxi). It was a good experience, particularly since the taxi driver was very polite (most taxi drivers around here are not) and struck up conversation while he was driving me to the flat. This is helpful for future reference, as I expect to use this service a lot during my stay here...because Celle has a ridiculous bus schedule.
It's also helpful because my parents are arriving Friday evening. Hey, did I mention that? They're arriving Friday.
But, my mind is preoccupied with other things right now, such as--gasp!--using my oven for the first time since I've moved here. I roasted pumpkin seeds today, with reasonable success. Still a little tough, but they taste good. So, I call that a success. I didn't burn down the flat, and that is what counts. I have high standards for myself, don't 'cha know.
Let's see how the rest of this week goes.
Good luck making that last. But, hey, I can have a sublimely silly day every once in a while.
So, I attended the Hannover Staatsoper Saturday night for Puccini's La Boheme. It was, quite simply, lovely. Hannover has a strong cast, and the sets, costumes (for the most part), and the sound were very good. Though the orchestra tended to drown out the singers at times, this could have been only from where I was sitting--which was a really good seat, albeit on the left side. My favorite voices were Marcello's and Colline's, though Rodolfo's tenor was smooth and strong (mostly). Musetta brought some pep to the crew, which was a nice touch to the ensemble's diverse personalities. Mimi, however, was a little underwhelming, but only in acting--her voice, to me, was lovely. My only quip is that she was a bit too stiff in movement, which provided no real umph to her personality. Regardless, I liked this Mimi, and I would certainly see this cast again in another piece. Added bonus: I went to the opera on Halloween!
As it was late upon the return to Celle, I managed to try out the AnrufsSammelTaxi service that is offered when the buses don't run for the usual bus fare (which is so much cheaper than an actual taxi). It was a good experience, particularly since the taxi driver was very polite (most taxi drivers around here are not) and struck up conversation while he was driving me to the flat. This is helpful for future reference, as I expect to use this service a lot during my stay here...because Celle has a ridiculous bus schedule.
It's also helpful because my parents are arriving Friday evening. Hey, did I mention that? They're arriving Friday.
But, my mind is preoccupied with other things right now, such as--gasp!--using my oven for the first time since I've moved here. I roasted pumpkin seeds today, with reasonable success. Still a little tough, but they taste good. So, I call that a success. I didn't burn down the flat, and that is what counts. I have high standards for myself, don't 'cha know.
Let's see how the rest of this week goes.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
A Thanksgiving Story
A sunny, temperate day. I have cake. Life is good.
No, seriously. Cake = good life.
Let's add to this formula: (sunny day + cake / The Decemberists' The Hazards of Love) x visitors in November and December = quite a damn good life.
In other news, I will be teaching 4b on my own on Thanksgiving day. The story that has been bestowed unto me to teach the kiddies is worthy of note because it is loosely based on the concept that some people wanted to come to America so badly that they sailed on a ship and moved to rich farmland where there's absolutely no trouble at all but the Indians helped them anyway because they're so nice and not being threatened at all and everyone is one big happy family, the end.
Sometimes, grammatically incorrect sentences get the point across the best.
So, here's the school's narration:
The Story of Thanksgiving
Long, long, long ago there were some English people called Pilgrims. They wanted to live in America. So the Pilgrims took a little sailing ship. They called it Mayflower. The Pilgrims sailed and sailed and sailed over the sea. Finally they saw a harbour. It looked like a bowl. There was good farmland. They built houses and called the place Plymouth. The Pilgrims met some Indians. The Indians helped the Pilgrims. They showed the Pilgrims berries, herbs and roots. And they showed the Pilgrims a new fruit. It was called corn. In autumn the Pilgrims had pumpkins, peas, beans and cranberries. And they had cornmeal. They baked bread and pancakes. The Pilgrims celebrated a feast. They invited the Indians. Every year in November the Americans remember those Pilgrims and Indians. They eat turkey, corn, cranberries, sweet potatoes and pumpkin pie. The feast is called Thanksgiving.
(Courtesy of Bausteine - Englisch)
Here's my rendition (which is also not entirely true, as I believe there actually was a plentiful harvest):
In 1620, a group of English Separatists, who, like most other religious sects in the history of ever, sought to establish their own special, exclusive community where they could avoid "relentless" persecution from other special, exclusive communities. They wanted to go to America because it was so cool, and they were really excited by the stellar successes of Roanoke and Jamestown. Therefore, after seeking their safe haven in the Netherlands, 102 passengers sailed across the Atlantic in the Mayflower, where absolutely no one died at all, to the Plymouth area of what would be called the ever-original New England. Of course, no one starved in this fruitful area, and there were no harsh winters where such starvation could occur. At all. These English Separatists knew very well the horticulture of this new land and didn't require the voluntary assistance of a certain fellow named Squanto, a guy who kind of knew what he was doing. So, with the bountiful harvest that came within a year, the Pilgrims, for that is how those lovable Separatists came to be known, invited the Native Americans, who totally weren't suffering depleted numbers from disease and forced relocation, to their first Thanksgiving. Pumpkin pie may or may not have been served, as there are no recorded instances.
And everyone lived happily ever after. The end.
It's funnier if it's said aloud, particularly in my dry, flat tone.
Nothing much else of note, actually. I'm quietly planning for a couple of visits, which is pleasant and stressful all at once, since I'm planning out my expenses as well. This will work out, however. Awesomeness awaits.
It's that time of the year for Halloween and harvest festivals back in Alabama. It makes me a bit whimsical, a bit nostalgic, and a tiny bit homesick. But...that's how it goes, isn't it? I imagine that all of the major holidays will be like this, even perhaps a bit stronger. Things are going well here. I feel a lot better about myself here. I like feeling like there's not too much wrong with me. It makes me realize that, hey, I can be kind of awesome.
Can a location really make one feel that? Can an experience that doesn't really have anything to do with the person involved, but rather with the title of Fulbright Grantee, with the job that the person is assigned, make one feel that? Is the person interesting, or is all the glory designated to the "prestige" that goes along with the type of job this is? Somehow, I believe both are intertwined. The person who is awarded something like this grant either is interesting enough to attain it or becomes interesting through the process of self-realization and the knowledge of what exactly one can endure. This is not something that is just handed to someone. I worked for this grant. But, is my "interestingness" only so because I worked for this? Or because I'm naturally an interesting person?
I love these contemplations. They give meaning to my life. And, it's not just about me, either. It's about anyone who goes through this sort of process, anyone who pushes oneself to do something that terrifies him or her. It's one of the most awesome things that one can muse about. Can one truly find an answer? Probably not. But, that's okay. Maybe it's not meant to be solved.
No, seriously. Cake = good life.
Let's add to this formula: (sunny day + cake / The Decemberists' The Hazards of Love) x visitors in November and December = quite a damn good life.
In other news, I will be teaching 4b on my own on Thanksgiving day. The story that has been bestowed unto me to teach the kiddies is worthy of note because it is loosely based on the concept that some people wanted to come to America so badly that they sailed on a ship and moved to rich farmland where there's absolutely no trouble at all but the Indians helped them anyway because they're so nice and not being threatened at all and everyone is one big happy family, the end.
Sometimes, grammatically incorrect sentences get the point across the best.
So, here's the school's narration:
The Story of Thanksgiving
Long, long, long ago there were some English people called Pilgrims. They wanted to live in America. So the Pilgrims took a little sailing ship. They called it Mayflower. The Pilgrims sailed and sailed and sailed over the sea. Finally they saw a harbour. It looked like a bowl. There was good farmland. They built houses and called the place Plymouth. The Pilgrims met some Indians. The Indians helped the Pilgrims. They showed the Pilgrims berries, herbs and roots. And they showed the Pilgrims a new fruit. It was called corn. In autumn the Pilgrims had pumpkins, peas, beans and cranberries. And they had cornmeal. They baked bread and pancakes. The Pilgrims celebrated a feast. They invited the Indians. Every year in November the Americans remember those Pilgrims and Indians. They eat turkey, corn, cranberries, sweet potatoes and pumpkin pie. The feast is called Thanksgiving.
(Courtesy of Bausteine - Englisch)
Here's my rendition (which is also not entirely true, as I believe there actually was a plentiful harvest):
In 1620, a group of English Separatists, who, like most other religious sects in the history of ever, sought to establish their own special, exclusive community where they could avoid "relentless" persecution from other special, exclusive communities. They wanted to go to America because it was so cool, and they were really excited by the stellar successes of Roanoke and Jamestown. Therefore, after seeking their safe haven in the Netherlands, 102 passengers sailed across the Atlantic in the Mayflower, where absolutely no one died at all, to the Plymouth area of what would be called the ever-original New England. Of course, no one starved in this fruitful area, and there were no harsh winters where such starvation could occur. At all. These English Separatists knew very well the horticulture of this new land and didn't require the voluntary assistance of a certain fellow named Squanto, a guy who kind of knew what he was doing. So, with the bountiful harvest that came within a year, the Pilgrims, for that is how those lovable Separatists came to be known, invited the Native Americans, who totally weren't suffering depleted numbers from disease and forced relocation, to their first Thanksgiving. Pumpkin pie may or may not have been served, as there are no recorded instances.
And everyone lived happily ever after. The end.
It's funnier if it's said aloud, particularly in my dry, flat tone.
Nothing much else of note, actually. I'm quietly planning for a couple of visits, which is pleasant and stressful all at once, since I'm planning out my expenses as well. This will work out, however. Awesomeness awaits.
It's that time of the year for Halloween and harvest festivals back in Alabama. It makes me a bit whimsical, a bit nostalgic, and a tiny bit homesick. But...that's how it goes, isn't it? I imagine that all of the major holidays will be like this, even perhaps a bit stronger. Things are going well here. I feel a lot better about myself here. I like feeling like there's not too much wrong with me. It makes me realize that, hey, I can be kind of awesome.
Can a location really make one feel that? Can an experience that doesn't really have anything to do with the person involved, but rather with the title of Fulbright Grantee, with the job that the person is assigned, make one feel that? Is the person interesting, or is all the glory designated to the "prestige" that goes along with the type of job this is? Somehow, I believe both are intertwined. The person who is awarded something like this grant either is interesting enough to attain it or becomes interesting through the process of self-realization and the knowledge of what exactly one can endure. This is not something that is just handed to someone. I worked for this grant. But, is my "interestingness" only so because I worked for this? Or because I'm naturally an interesting person?
I love these contemplations. They give meaning to my life. And, it's not just about me, either. It's about anyone who goes through this sort of process, anyone who pushes oneself to do something that terrifies him or her. It's one of the most awesome things that one can muse about. Can one truly find an answer? Probably not. But, that's okay. Maybe it's not meant to be solved.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
My Life is Good.
Really, it is. If I can say, "Oh, I'm not doing much today. I'm just going to hop on a train to Bremen," then I can't justifiably say that life is anything but good.
Hey, look! I've been mentioned in my department's blog! Take a look here: UAH History News.
This is going to be another one of those sectioned off posts, seeing as I have much to talk about: my travels to Hannover and Bremen over the course of two days. I will save some reflections about my stay overall for a post later today. So, stay tuned.
This is going to be a very long post.
Hannover
So, I took a trip with Maryle and her university friend, Sarah, to Hannover Tuesday. To give a bit of background, Sarah is traveling through Europe at this very moment, and she stopped by Celle to visit Maryle. In addition to this, I have two (actually, three, but we'll get to that) friends from the Fulbright orientation who live in Hannover, and we had been planning for awhile to meet up. So, it naturally made sense to have all of us meet in Hannover for a free tour of the pretty parts of the city.
And this is how the day went. (I'm not going to leave you hanging; it went very well.)
I arrived at the (rather dingy) Celle Bahnhof rather early, since I'm entirely too punctual when planning trips and whatnot. I called Maryle to notify her of my arrival, and she informed me that she and Sarah were on their way and would be at the station in twenty-five minutes. So, I waited around for that allotted amount of time and started wondering why they were late. I got a call from Maryle...and the poor women missed their bus. So, they literally power-walked to the station, which takes about roughly forty minutes from Maryle's place to this particular destination. We missed our desired train, but, as there are many trains that go through Celle to Hannover, we managed to catch a train not long after their Power Walk 2009.
Upon our arrival at Hannover, we set about finding our way to Ernst Augustus Platz, which is where my friend, Bill, had said he would meet us "unter dem Schwanz," or under the tail, of the Ernst Augustus statue. Notice that I said "he," as in one solitary person. I suppose you can imagine my surprise when not one, but three, people were there (after I had, you know, looked right at Sara and passed them). That's right; Bill, Sara (my roommate in Altenberg), and Patrick (another Fulbrighter whom I had passingly known at orientation) were our tour guides for the afternoon. This is rife with awesome.
So, we six travelers traipsed about Hannover, viewing mostly the Altstadt of the city, which, along with almost everything else in Hannover, had been reconstructed after World War II because of the British bombings. We toured the Marktkirche, viewed in a professional manner some mildly suggestive statues in the park bordering the Altstadt, procured some lunch at the Markthalle (an American-type mall), and ended our six-person tour at the Neues Rathaus. I received a really neat history lesson of Hannover from Bill at the Rathaus, with the four large models of the city on the courthouse's ground floor. The difference between the 1939 and the 1945 models is striking.
As I desired to go to the Niedersaesisches Landesmuseum Hannover, Maryle and Sarah split off from the group to go a-wandering, and my Hannoverian comrades walked with me to the art museum. On the way, my tour guides showed me the St.-Aegidienkirche, which had also been obliterated by British bombing. However, as a memorial, the church was left in shambles, which provides a stark contrast to the rest of the city. This was one of my favorite landmarks that my tour guides showed me. After going to the wrong museum, we found our way to my desired destination, and I left my benevolent friends in pursuit of high Aht.
Now, I must make a digression here because I love art museums. During my trip to Germany last year, my main activity was literally perusing art museums. "Hey, let's do fun stuff!" "No, I'd rather fill my lungs with the dust of dead people's masterpieces." I was not disappointed with Hannover's collection, though I will say that when the museum proudly proclaims to house such works as Monet, Botticelli, Rembrandt, and Rubens (and Renoir! A lovely surprise), it usually means that there is one of each, and not famous ones, at that. But, hey, I'm not complaining. There was also an impressive collection of Caspar David Friedrich and Max Liebermann. That was really cool.
(We're almost done here, kids.) Upon meeting Maryle and Sarah, we three, two Cellers and a world traveler, jaunted down to the Hannover "Oktoberfest," otherwise known as the German State Fair. It was amusing to view the different attractions, though the two most interesting ones involved a horrid airbrushed illustration of Chuck "WTF" Norris and a mechanized contraption that I dubbed the Child Molester Crocodile With the Beer Gut and the Long "Tail." So, after snapping a few photos of the oddities of Oktoberfest, our weary souls and our weary...soles returned to Celle for the night.
Since Hannover is a short jog from Celle, my adventures in this city are far from over, I imagine. However, this trip was a nice introduction to the city of the Georges.
Bremen
Ah, Bremen! So many adventures and misadventures! Bremen, I love you. Thursday!
Oh, you'll get the reference when you read the story.
The send off to Bremen went a lot more smoothly than to Hannover, since buses weren't early and trains were on time. The two and a half hours of travel passed uneventfully, and we arrived in Bremen around 11:40, giving us much time to go a-wandering about the city on a Wednesday, a day all of us had assumed would be a grand time for tours and whatnot.
Have I mentioned that things like tours are not offered on Wednesday, but on Thursday? I didn't? Well, imagine that.
Maryle, Sarah, and I had planned on taking the Beck's brewery tour. That was closed until Thursday. Then Maryle noticed that there was also a Mercendes-Benz tour. Hey, guess what? That was also closed until Thursday. So, we three, standing in the rain and wondering what to do (and laughing pretty much the entire time), headed over to the Bremen Altstadt with no particular agenda. This actually turned out to be a very nice time, with our own improvised tour of the flashy things that Bremen has to offer its tourists.
Marktplatz is a rather impressive center of a German Altstadt. Despite the constant rain, the layout and the attractions of Marktplatz were admittedly quite beautiful. We strolled about the Altes Rathaus, viewed the Roland statue, walked around inside the St. Petri Dom (one of my favorite cathedrals of my stay so far), found the famous Bremer Stadtmusikanten statue (smaller than I had anticipated, but really cool nonetheless), and wandered inside the Unser Lieben Frauen Kirche. At this point, we had lunch at the German fast food place called Nordsee, where Maryle retold the story of the Bremer Stadtmusikanten in the vivid way that only Maryle can. This is a good thing, by the way.
During the events mentioned above, we three naturally took photos. While Maryle was taking a picture of us, she said "Thursday!" instead of the standard "Cheese!" that has become ingrained in American culture. So, that is how a new catchphrase has entered into my life. However, it must be uttered only on Wednesday.
After lunch, we set off to find the Kunsthalle, an art museum that both Maryle and I had dearly wanted to view. So, as is the norm with travelers, we three trekked through a very beautiful park, the Wallanlagen, and stumbled upon the Theatersgarten, which is a memorial for the Theater that once stood there before its destruction in World War II. Then, we made our way to the Kunsthalle.
It was closed. For renovations. For two years.
I think this is when we realized that, in a fit of laughter, that we just needed a beer and to sit down and chat. So, upon our tour through Schnoor, the fifteenth- and sixteenth-century art/blacksmith/shopping district of Bremen, we sat down at a restaurant (with a closed kitchen, by the way) and had our Beck's.
I believe that, during the rest of our trip, we realized just how cool it was that we three had been traveling together for two days. As Sarah and I had talked about before our train to Bremen, we had known that we are incredibly lucky to be making our way through Europe at such a young age. But, I think Sarah summed it up quite nicely when she said, "Guys, thanks so much for being awesome and traveling with me these two days" as we walked up to a random Bremen windmill...because, really, I had a great time traveling with Maryle and Sarah, particularly on our misadventures in Bremen. So, upon bidding farewell to Sarah at her hostel, Maryle and I returned to Celle.
Celle, a town that has the crappiest bus schedule in the history of mankind. This is a bit of an exaggeration, but I'll leave it at that. Suffice to say, Maryle and I managed to return to our homes.
Hannover and Bremen in two days. Who would have thought?
Hey, look! I've been mentioned in my department's blog! Take a look here: UAH History News.
This is going to be another one of those sectioned off posts, seeing as I have much to talk about: my travels to Hannover and Bremen over the course of two days. I will save some reflections about my stay overall for a post later today. So, stay tuned.
This is going to be a very long post.
Hannover
So, I took a trip with Maryle and her university friend, Sarah, to Hannover Tuesday. To give a bit of background, Sarah is traveling through Europe at this very moment, and she stopped by Celle to visit Maryle. In addition to this, I have two (actually, three, but we'll get to that) friends from the Fulbright orientation who live in Hannover, and we had been planning for awhile to meet up. So, it naturally made sense to have all of us meet in Hannover for a free tour of the pretty parts of the city.
And this is how the day went. (I'm not going to leave you hanging; it went very well.)
I arrived at the (rather dingy) Celle Bahnhof rather early, since I'm entirely too punctual when planning trips and whatnot. I called Maryle to notify her of my arrival, and she informed me that she and Sarah were on their way and would be at the station in twenty-five minutes. So, I waited around for that allotted amount of time and started wondering why they were late. I got a call from Maryle...and the poor women missed their bus. So, they literally power-walked to the station, which takes about roughly forty minutes from Maryle's place to this particular destination. We missed our desired train, but, as there are many trains that go through Celle to Hannover, we managed to catch a train not long after their Power Walk 2009.
Upon our arrival at Hannover, we set about finding our way to Ernst Augustus Platz, which is where my friend, Bill, had said he would meet us "unter dem Schwanz," or under the tail, of the Ernst Augustus statue. Notice that I said "he," as in one solitary person. I suppose you can imagine my surprise when not one, but three, people were there (after I had, you know, looked right at Sara and passed them). That's right; Bill, Sara (my roommate in Altenberg), and Patrick (another Fulbrighter whom I had passingly known at orientation) were our tour guides for the afternoon. This is rife with awesome.
So, we six travelers traipsed about Hannover, viewing mostly the Altstadt of the city, which, along with almost everything else in Hannover, had been reconstructed after World War II because of the British bombings. We toured the Marktkirche, viewed in a professional manner some mildly suggestive statues in the park bordering the Altstadt, procured some lunch at the Markthalle (an American-type mall), and ended our six-person tour at the Neues Rathaus. I received a really neat history lesson of Hannover from Bill at the Rathaus, with the four large models of the city on the courthouse's ground floor. The difference between the 1939 and the 1945 models is striking.
As I desired to go to the Niedersaesisches Landesmuseum Hannover, Maryle and Sarah split off from the group to go a-wandering, and my Hannoverian comrades walked with me to the art museum. On the way, my tour guides showed me the St.-Aegidienkirche, which had also been obliterated by British bombing. However, as a memorial, the church was left in shambles, which provides a stark contrast to the rest of the city. This was one of my favorite landmarks that my tour guides showed me. After going to the wrong museum, we found our way to my desired destination, and I left my benevolent friends in pursuit of high Aht.
Now, I must make a digression here because I love art museums. During my trip to Germany last year, my main activity was literally perusing art museums. "Hey, let's do fun stuff!" "No, I'd rather fill my lungs with the dust of dead people's masterpieces." I was not disappointed with Hannover's collection, though I will say that when the museum proudly proclaims to house such works as Monet, Botticelli, Rembrandt, and Rubens (and Renoir! A lovely surprise), it usually means that there is one of each, and not famous ones, at that. But, hey, I'm not complaining. There was also an impressive collection of Caspar David Friedrich and Max Liebermann. That was really cool.
(We're almost done here, kids.) Upon meeting Maryle and Sarah, we three, two Cellers and a world traveler, jaunted down to the Hannover "Oktoberfest," otherwise known as the German State Fair. It was amusing to view the different attractions, though the two most interesting ones involved a horrid airbrushed illustration of Chuck "WTF" Norris and a mechanized contraption that I dubbed the Child Molester Crocodile With the Beer Gut and the Long "Tail." So, after snapping a few photos of the oddities of Oktoberfest, our weary souls and our weary...soles returned to Celle for the night.
Since Hannover is a short jog from Celle, my adventures in this city are far from over, I imagine. However, this trip was a nice introduction to the city of the Georges.
Bremen
Ah, Bremen! So many adventures and misadventures! Bremen, I love you. Thursday!
Oh, you'll get the reference when you read the story.
The send off to Bremen went a lot more smoothly than to Hannover, since buses weren't early and trains were on time. The two and a half hours of travel passed uneventfully, and we arrived in Bremen around 11:40, giving us much time to go a-wandering about the city on a Wednesday, a day all of us had assumed would be a grand time for tours and whatnot.
Have I mentioned that things like tours are not offered on Wednesday, but on Thursday? I didn't? Well, imagine that.
Maryle, Sarah, and I had planned on taking the Beck's brewery tour. That was closed until Thursday. Then Maryle noticed that there was also a Mercendes-Benz tour. Hey, guess what? That was also closed until Thursday. So, we three, standing in the rain and wondering what to do (and laughing pretty much the entire time), headed over to the Bremen Altstadt with no particular agenda. This actually turned out to be a very nice time, with our own improvised tour of the flashy things that Bremen has to offer its tourists.
Marktplatz is a rather impressive center of a German Altstadt. Despite the constant rain, the layout and the attractions of Marktplatz were admittedly quite beautiful. We strolled about the Altes Rathaus, viewed the Roland statue, walked around inside the St. Petri Dom (one of my favorite cathedrals of my stay so far), found the famous Bremer Stadtmusikanten statue (smaller than I had anticipated, but really cool nonetheless), and wandered inside the Unser Lieben Frauen Kirche. At this point, we had lunch at the German fast food place called Nordsee, where Maryle retold the story of the Bremer Stadtmusikanten in the vivid way that only Maryle can. This is a good thing, by the way.
During the events mentioned above, we three naturally took photos. While Maryle was taking a picture of us, she said "Thursday!" instead of the standard "Cheese!" that has become ingrained in American culture. So, that is how a new catchphrase has entered into my life. However, it must be uttered only on Wednesday.
After lunch, we set off to find the Kunsthalle, an art museum that both Maryle and I had dearly wanted to view. So, as is the norm with travelers, we three trekked through a very beautiful park, the Wallanlagen, and stumbled upon the Theatersgarten, which is a memorial for the Theater that once stood there before its destruction in World War II. Then, we made our way to the Kunsthalle.
It was closed. For renovations. For two years.
I think this is when we realized that, in a fit of laughter, that we just needed a beer and to sit down and chat. So, upon our tour through Schnoor, the fifteenth- and sixteenth-century art/blacksmith/shopping district of Bremen, we sat down at a restaurant (with a closed kitchen, by the way) and had our Beck's.
I believe that, during the rest of our trip, we realized just how cool it was that we three had been traveling together for two days. As Sarah and I had talked about before our train to Bremen, we had known that we are incredibly lucky to be making our way through Europe at such a young age. But, I think Sarah summed it up quite nicely when she said, "Guys, thanks so much for being awesome and traveling with me these two days" as we walked up to a random Bremen windmill...because, really, I had a great time traveling with Maryle and Sarah, particularly on our misadventures in Bremen. So, upon bidding farewell to Sarah at her hostel, Maryle and I returned to Celle.
Celle, a town that has the crappiest bus schedule in the history of mankind. This is a bit of an exaggeration, but I'll leave it at that. Suffice to say, Maryle and I managed to return to our homes.
Hannover and Bremen in two days. Who would have thought?
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