Oh, so much has happened since last I had internet access... Okay, not too much actual occurence, but plenty of first impression-ness. Let's begin.

I couldn't sleep very well that night in Munich, despite being in a very familiar sleeping environment. Youth hostel dormitory=sleeping porch. Everywhere I go, bizarro Watkins. So after lying awake for about 3 hours, I finally got up around 6:30 (dude, I know) and did getting ready things and went to hang out at the train station. I had a fantastic pain au chocolat (oh, European pastries, what you do to me....) and looked comical with all my luggage. Only 2 pieces, actually, but the one is humongous. And quite heavy. I caught the train to Ingolstadt at 7:45 and had to change trains with my ridiculous luggage not once, but twice, in order to reach Eichstätt. An old lady asked me if I could lift it and laughed. I looked appropriately chagrined.

Once in Eichstätt, I was somewhat uncertain as to where my street lie, and no taxis were forthcoming. So I lugged my luggage into the center of town and purchased a map, only to discover that my dorm was in precisely the opposite direction from the train station. Thus, I lugged my luggage the other way, that is, up a large hill. Eichstätt is situated in a valley, towering peaks on either side, a river running through the center of town, all very picturesque. However, the city slopes up from said river toward said mountains on both sides, creating hills reminiscent of my beloved Lawrence. Kids, you'll be glad to know that the street I live on is rather like 14th. Mmm, calf muscles. I managed to not die and arrive at the dorm thing, where I did not see another living soul... I did, however, find a list of arriving international students (hey, that's me!), found my room number and noted the instruction 'keys are in the room.' Okay, maybe I don't need to talk to anyone official. The giant suitcase and myself were squeezed into the World's Smallest Elevator (official title) and hefted to the top floor. I found my room...and it was locked. So much for the key being in the room. By this time I'm quite frustrated and not at all willing to go another step with the luggage. So I abandon my bags by the door and set off back into town, further in the direction past where I purchased the map. Why oh why is everthing in this town so far from where I am? I found the office of the people who manage my dorm thing... I wander in, thinking I'm going to have some 'splaining to do, but as soon as the words, 'Hi, I'm an exchange student and I just got here...' escaped my mouth (in German, of course) a very pleasant woman said, 'Oh, Rebecca?' I was surprised, though I suppose I shouldn't have been, as I had e-mailed with the date of my arrival. We made idle chit-chat, I signed a contract that I wouldn't blow up the building, etc., and she says to me, 'All right, you're done!' I ask her, unelegantly, 'Um, key?' 'Oh, it's in your room.' 'Uh, the room is, um, locked.' 'You were already there?' 'Uh-huh.' 'Upstairs?' 'Yes, my luggage is still there.' 'Hmm.' I imagine myself living on the streets of a picturesque German town. It is not pleasant. Mostly, though, I am not moving my luggage ever again. Ever. She makes a phone call to some guy somewhere, and then tells me that the housekeeper will soon arrive at the house and unlock the room for me, wherein I will find keys. I am eternally grateful. I walk back across town to the dorm, and there's the housekeeper (whose German I have trouble understanding, for some reason). She gives me keys--a whole boatload of them--and explains some of the workings of the house.

Studentenwohnheim St. Michael is 6 stories high. About 10 students live on each floor, I think. All the rooms are single and frighteningly institutional... At least, mine is. Pure white, minimal furnishings... My bed is more like a couch. That is, the mattress is oddly upholstered and is the least mattress-like mattress I've ever seen. My sheets are quite unnatractive, being a tan and brown leaf pattern with some sick looking lady bugs scattered throughout. They are freaky comfy, though. Aside from the bed, I've got a tabley desk thing (no drawers), a shelf structure, a closet, and a sink. I require posters, lest I go mad. At the end of each hall is a common room with couches, TV, and all the kitchen stuff. I am luckily familiar with this process, as the place is like a bizarro co-ed Watkins. Or how Watkins would be if it were less cool. I mean a lot less cool, like even less cool than Miller. Some of the keys on my keychain of doom are for use in this room--we have locking cabinets for room-temp food and our refrigerator shelves also lock. Oh, the strangeness. Most people just leave their keys in the locks, but the fact that the things lock at all is weird.

My other keys are to the outside door, my room door, and my mailbox. Oooh, a locking mailbox. If only it were filled with nice things to read....

I was about dead at this point, so I unpacked my luggage, so as to stow it and not look at it until the end of July. Then I enjoyed my first shower since Wednesday. I decided I needed to go to the grocery store, and perhaps also to see the international student facilitator lady, but I wasn't going to go anywhere without a nap. I figured I'd sleep for an hour or two and be refreshed and ready to run errands.

8 hours later, I woke up. I put on some clothes and wandered into town to see what the night life had to offer and to hopefully track down some food, as all I'd eaten all day was that croissant and orange juice. Yes, I ate the orange juice. The Germans are very serious about food being fresh. I was fully aware that that juice had very recently been in round orange form, because I had to chew it. Anyway, there was no movement on my floor, and no discernible place where things were really happening in town... and I would have felt quite strange eating alone so late.... So I just wandered for an hour and went back home.

I grabbed my book and went to curl up on a couch in the common room, figuring I'd read for a while and sleep again. Aaah, jet lag. Thankfully, though, there was someone else in there. And so I met Clara, a journalism student from Spain who has been fantastic and showed me everything. But that's today, and I'm still talking about yesterday. I talked to Clara for a while, then she went off somewhere unspecified and I got serious about reading. I was nearly done with the book when a guy and a girl walked in. They're like 'Hi... you live here?' 'Yup, two doors down.' 'How long have you been here?' 'Umm... I don't know, 6 hours?' Which wasn't exactly true... it was closer to 12. But they laughed and introduced themselves. Andreas is from Germany, and I can't remember what the girl's name was. Whatever. They told me a bit about the floor, and that most people weren't back yet from the semester break, which explains why it's been so quiet. 'Don't worry, during the semester there are plenty of parties!'

I finished my book (or part one of three, I suppose) and went back to bed. So ended my first day in Eichstätt....

 
All I have to say is "Thank you God for easyEverything!" If you know what I'm talking about, let's hold hands.

I'm in Munich, enjoying an uninteresting latte and having forgotten my AIM password. So that bites, but otherwise, I'm feeling pretty good about life in general. I've arrived in Germany in one piece, haven't lost or had anything stolen, and have secured lodging for the night. Also, huzzah for youth hostels. Europe rocks. After I fall into my bunk bed tonight, I just have to get up in the morning, wander back down to the train station, and ride a train for about an hour and whammo! I will be in my quaint university town.

An observation: even the most familiar of cities seems less than charming and downright unhospitable when one arrives at 10 pm as a single woman with an unholy amount of luggage. STEP 1: Ditch the luggage. Train station locker, you make me smile. STEP 2: Walk with purpose. Even if you're striding down an alley to certain doom, you should be striding like you *mean* it, dammit! STEP 3: Don't wear white socks. Ever. This one small action can catapult you from the realm of 'Oh God, another American.' to 'Where the hell is that guy from, anyway?' which is much safer territory. STEP 4: While speaking to strangers at your youth hostel is a good idea, speaking to weird old guys on the street may not be. Next time, I'll adhere to my own advice a little more closely.

I'd also like to plug British Airways right now, if I may. My travel experience was not at all awful. Slight delay when they had to change a tire on the airplane in Denver and then couldn't get the hydraulic jack out from under the plane *ahem* but what's an extra hour on a plane when you've got a 9 hour flight ahead of you? Seriously, though, the food and the movie selection rocked, and I didn't want to strangle anyone at all the whole trip. I am so exhausted, however, that I have apparently forgotten how to speak German. I am confident, however, that much of this problem will be remedied with sleep. The rest of it I may never overcome.

One more thing, though: There was no customs inspection to speak of. A dude glanced at and stamped my passport, I walked through a door marked 'Nothing to declare' because I really didn't feel it was the time for declarations, and found myself outside and quite close to the bus I needed to ride into town. That rocked.

Heathrow, on the other hand, is a strange little airport. Well, not really little at all. I'm hanging out in this terminal for a few hours (not quite 6 due to delays and security checks, thank goodness) and they don't post the gate number for my flight until 20 MINUTES BEFORE TAKEOFF. Y'know, about the same time as they threaten you upon pain of death to be on board your aircraft. I'll give them this, though, it kept us on our toes and in the shopping areas since we couldn't set up camp next to the gate as one does at most airports. I thought of my little Anglophile friends and browsed at the mini-Harrods.... Worry not, trinkets will be purchased for those who cannot live without them. Send in your requests now!

Okay, I'm getting quite punchy, so I'm going to go and reunite the batteries with my alarm clock.... No one even asked me about that, by the way. Does anyone else remember being given the third degree about battery operated devices in airport security before? I suppose they have other concerns than my calculator now, though I dutifully disembowelled said device in compliance with the wishes of airport personnel as I had been heretofore apprised. Hmm, awkward sentence. Sleeeeeeeeeeeep.

 
Dude, what is with airport internet access and the horror that passes for a keyboard?

Now I'm in London Heathrow with approximately 2 hours until my flight to Munich. Deja vu, anyone? Yes, well. I'm quite thirsty, but haven't quite decided whether it's worth it to exchange money for pounds.... seeing as I'll be here all of 2 hours and the only bills I have are twenties. The torture!

No death yet, but I did just go through the longest airport security line i think i've ever waited in. Also, the shift key is difficult to operate.

I have about 14 minutes left of my overpriced internet time, but I think I should go find a restroom.

Bis spaeter, oh loyal readers!

 
T minus 2 hours to takeoff...

I'm at the airport in Denver using some overpriced internet access thing with a poorly conceived typing surface because I'm that desparate to kill time. The smell of sweet commerce wafts through the air... or perhaps that's just the Panda Express nearby. Seriously, airports are strange places.

I'm in for a killer layover in London. 6 hours! What does one do with one's self for 6 hours? I could sleep, I suppose, but I'd feel rather exposed.

Whose idea was it that I needed to be at this airport 3 hours before my flight time, while I'm complaining about airports, eh? It took exactly the same amount of time to get checked in for this international flight as it does for normal domestic flights.

I'm flying directly from Denver to London, then after 6 hours of quality time in the airport, I'm flying to Munich. I don't know if it's better or worse that I don't have a connection somewhere on the east coast... on the one hand, it breaks up the monotony. On the other, it would be another freakin' airport.

I'll probably drop another freakish sum of money and update y'all on my travels when I get to London. Don't hold your breath--the flight's nearly 10 hours.

On a positive note: I decided on shoes and in fact completed all my packing. Here's to hoping I haven't forgotten anything crucial!

 
T minus 7 hours to takeoff...

I called Allison last night after playing phone tag all day, and she asks me, "Are you nervous?"

"Yeah, a little bit."

"About what in particular?"

"Well, I haven't packed yet, for one."

"Becky! I should be surprised, but I'm not."

"I'm having trouble deciding which shoes to take."

::she sighs:: "Shoes are the first thing! You can't pack anything until you pack shoes."

"You see my dilemna, then."

 
Yarrrrgh, I'm leaving the country in less than 36 hours. At least I've finally got luggage.

Tomorrow: Packing!

Also on the agenda: Freaking out!