Yesterday morning, I woke up earlier than usual. I did not snooze my alarm one, two, or five times as I am wont, nor did I beat a laggard’s path to the coffee pot, linger over a mixing bowlful of muesli, and read three dozen news articles about Anthony Weiner, austerity, and airstrikes on Tripoli before “beginning my day.”
Yesterday morning, I woke up in a panic. My heart was pounding as I broke from nightmares of oversleeping, nightmares of deportation; I rushed to get dressed, gulped not nearly enough coffee and ran out the door. Yesterday morning, I had an early appointment at the Stadtamt of Heidelberg.
The Stadtamt is the Kafkaesque warren of beige rooms and heavy doors where bureaucratic processes, such as registering or unregistering as a city resident, take place. The Stadtamt is take-a-number waiting areas, forms to fill out and pamphlets to read. It is doors with sensors that seem to see you, reluctantly, at the very last second of your approach, sliding open slowly and with great effort. It is long hallways lined with bright tubes of fluorescence, chairs filled by waiting, eye-contactless occupants outside of unresponsive offices, and an occasional faded, floral poster behind a dirty sheet of plastic. Inside the office doors, it is gray, floor to ceiling metal locker doors that hang open, revealing fat manila file after fat manila file, packed snugly together in row upon row.
If it isn’t obvious, I hate this place. I freak out a little every time I have to go, and thus the AM chaos. And yet, it’s wholly unavoidable—if you come to Germany for any more than a month or two, you’re obliged to register with the city. And once you do, you occupy a little place among the manila masses of documents. When you go for an appointment, the file spread open on the desk of the bureaucrat with whom you’ve made an appointment contains not only your biometric photograph, but all of the bank statements, photocopies of your passport, your rental contract, and enrollment with the University, documentation of your reasons for being in Germany, and every email you ever sent to the Stadtamt, printed out in hard-copy.
But in yesterday’s rush out the door to reach this undesirable, inevitable destination, something weird happened.
As I charged out of the apartment, running late, falling over a pair of my own shoes, and stubbing my toe through peep-toes on the jamb (this is not the weird part), I also snagged my purse on a plastic grocery bag that was dangling ponderously from the outside doorknob.
For a few split seconds, the spell of anxiety regarding the immediate, bureaucratic future was broken by wonder. How did someone wake up earlier than me to leave this here? (It was 8:45.)
And of course, What is it?
Sadly, I didn’t have time to plunder through the bag, but rather left it for further speculation, inside on the kitchen table—a grateful diversion throughout what promised to be The Trial (ha, sorry…) of the next several hours.
But in fact, it was all over in no time. The appointment—which concerned my reverse registration process with Heidelberg and [*cough cough*] the fact that I had misunderstood the terms of my student visa and overstayed my allotted time in Germany—only lasted about 15 minutes. The woman I spoke with was really, really nice, and helped me with all the details surrounding procedural, Deutschland disentanglement.
Phew.
Back at the apartment, Matt had opened the mysterious, early morning delivery. It was from Matt’s German speaking partner, whom you should know a little about before I reveal the contents of the gift:
Matt’s German speaking partner is the nicest. His name is Thiemo and he is the envy of all other American students, who have similarly teamed up with native German speakers to practice their language skills. For their practice sessions, Matt and Thiemo don’t just go for a coffee, they go for a Mass (if you’re not familiar, a Mass is what comes to mind when you think of Oktoberfest—an entire liter of beer in a single, enormous mug). Matt and Thiemo go to hockey games, smoke cigars, see the sites of Mannheim, and often invite me along. Thiemo is our primary source of information about German culture, and is great at recommending the best things to see, to do, and, in this case, to eat!
His gift contained a note by way of explanation, which doubles as the most awesome direct response my writing has ever elicited. He wrote that he read some of the DABR blog, and regretted my difficult vegetarian experience with German cuisine—it’s not all bad! And he wanted to set the record straight with the undeniably delicious traditional (for his family, anyway) food he eats for breakfast most days of the week: Bauernbrot (German “peasant bread,” which is a little like sourdough) and Nutella—a spread with the consistency of smooth peanut butter that tastes like chocolate and hazelnut!! Like I said, Matt’s speaking partner is the nicest.
Free of the responsibilities of the Stadtamt, I had a leisurely, Bauernbrot-and-Nutella breakfast this morning. Needless to say, I loved it! It easily ranks among my favorite German foods :) So this is my thank you note to Thiemo, who has shown us so many great German things!
And now that I’m unregistered with the city, I go back to the US on Tuesday, June 21. I’m excited, but I admit a little bit of sentimentality is starting to set in. After all, Germany has been a pretty great place to be for the last year. I’m already looking forward to a return visit (maybe next time to Berlin??), and hoping to see our fun, Heidelberg-based friends sometime again in the near future! Take care, you guys, and stay in touch!
