Wow, it felt like I had only just arrived here in Germany, and here I was on the train, coming back from Berlin where we had just had our annual elections. The elections where the successors of all my office colleagues were officially elected. A replacement still needs to be found for me when my term ends, but we have now chosen most of next years staff. That means that I have been here more than half of my time, and as I looked at my watch to confirm the date, I thought about my next big trip, home. After all the traveling I had done over the last half a year, going home had meant returning to my little apartment in Cologne. Now home had reverted to its old meaning, back across the Atlantic.
Three days later, I had packed my bags, and had begun retracing the steps I had taken far less confidently seven months before. Taking the train to the airport in Frankfurt was hardly an adventure this time, Deutsche Bahn was all pretty normal now, I even had a train card with my picture on it. I could understand, as well as the person next to me at least the once utterly cryptic babblings coming over the train’s PA system. Checking in at the flight counter was a little strange though. It was Air France, but I was in Germany. I started out in French but found myself confusing French words with German ones, I think it’s pretty common to mix up non-native languages, especially when you’re only learning one at a time. Of course, I speak both languages with a thick English accent, and the poor woman had to ask me what language I wanted to speak, she offered and I took the easy route, English. I was going home after all. I thought about that a little more as I whittled away the time before boarding. English. I was really starting to miss it. I was having a great time learning German, but whether I struggled with my questionable German or conversed with my German friends in their nearly perfect English, there was always something missing. I never made any jokes anymore. There is currently no way I could use humour in German, and my nitpicky word play humour in English just doesn’t fly with most people. I hadn’t noticed this until I had spent a few hours to talking to a couple of Australians. Just one of those things I guess.
Luckily there is nothing exciting to tell about the rest of my trip home, no major delays which was great because my itinerary definitely left a lot of room for them. I traveled by train to Frankfurt, then flew to Paris, then to Montreal where I took a bus to Ottawa and drove back with my parents. Planes, Trains, Automobiles and 20 odd hours later, I was home. I was simply happy. My parents had picked me up at the airport, I would see my brother at home. The house was as I had left those months before, and the Christmas tree was up and lit. Time for a holiday.
