This week I was in Germany the entire week. Have I mentioned how Germany feels like home
to me? Almost more so than in the US, I get
to Germany and breath a sigh of contentment and relief and think to myself, “I’m home!” That feeling extends beyond just where I lived in Germany. It exists in
the roads on which I travel in Germany. It exists in the smell of train
stations in Germany. It exists in the
sound of a German child no more than four or five years old speaking to his parents as I walk by. Germany is inextricably
linked to a wealth of memories and experiences in my life.
At the same time, I had two experiences this week that made me uncover a deeper layer of this contentment. On Tuesday I had the chance to go to Trier, the small city where I attended Max Planck Gymnasium from fifth to eighth grade. I went to all of the regular sights in Trier, most of which have some significance to me. I visited the Dom, which we visited at the beginning of our stay in Germany (it really was one of the first real German places that we visited). This made me also think of the Fuβgängerzone in Trier, where the missionaries would stand in a circle and sing Christmas songs, and then try to teach people about the gospel. I visited the Porta Nigra, which stands as a constant reminder of the rich Roman heritage to which Trier stands heir. It also reminded me of Grundschule in Speicher, when our class went to a museum about Romans and we discussed the various styles of clothing. I got to try on the senator robes J I returned to the Basilica, to which we took an excursion as a religion class in sixth grade. This made me think of my favorite teacher from Gymnasium, Frau Brucherseifer, who loved helping me as much as possible expand and stretch my knowledge of the German language when I attended MPG. I also got to go places that have personal significance to me. Central to my visit was going back to MPG to walk around and remember what life was like when I was there. German schools end for most elementary and middle school-aged kids at 1:00, so when my train pulled into Trier Hauptbahnhof at 1:05, I was able to see fifth graders running for their trains the way that I am sure I did when rushing to get home after a day at school. I must have been as short as they are, but I feel like I was one of the tallest of the bunch J I also went to places connected to a specific memory. A lot of them weren’t life-changing events, but were everyday things that I look back at and remember fondly. Places like the toy store where we could always find the new Spiel des Jahres, or the music store where I remember Hannah and Glo first performing on their violins. The spot where Mark would stand during Christmas time wearing a Santa hat and playing his French horn to get money for Christmas gifts. I still remember the time I stood across the street and watched an old woman listen to him for a good two minutes, and as she began to move on, throw something that fluttered, rather than dropped, into the horn case at Mark’s feet. He just stopped playing and gazed down in shock at the ten Euro note she had given him. Ten Euros is a lot of money for a twelve-year old, especially one strapped for cash around Christmas time. J These were the kinds of things I thought about as I wandered around Trier. “The House That Built Me” by Miranda Lambert rang in my ears all that day, because my life then, and who I am today, was shaped by those years that I spent as an American in a German school in Trier, Germany.
This was an incredible experience, but there was a bittersweet tinge of sadness to the whole day. Despite all of the memories evoked by the places that I visited, none of the places felt like they fit anymore. After a period of joy to have the opportunity to return to my childhood haunts, it became rather melancholy. Yes, these places were mine, but at the same time they weren’t, because the people who made them mine no longer accompanied those places. Frau Brucherseifer had already gone home by the time I arrived at MPG, depriving me of the chance to reconnect with her. My friends from MPG with whom I might have wandered around the Fuβgängerzone were all in university (wow, British expression) or working that day, so I missed seeing them. And obviously my family, with whom I would certainly have the most memories about which to reminisce, was a continent away. I found myself trying to find a friend’s house that I hadn’t seen or been in contact with for eight years, because I was searching for someone else who had been a part of my memories in Trier. I was searching for anyone who had experienced my memories of Trier with me, so that I could share my joy about being there with them.
Contrast this to the rest of the week with the Morans. Before I headed to Germany, it was always a little hard to explain whom I was visiting. I found that the best way to describe the Morans was as my godparents, because while we aren’t related, they feel like family in every sense of the word. I love being with them, and I know that that love will be reciprocated. At first glance, the Morans and I didn’t do anything extremely remarkable. We played games (a LOT of games!), we went to the movies, and we ate some really good food. We slept in, we carved pumpkins, and generally just lived life. I helped do the dishes, helped Natalie clean the bathrooms one Saturday morning, and went to the family picture session that the Morans had planned. However, those are the days that I really treasured over this nine-day vacation. The days where we would get done with a game of Städte und Ritter, look at each other, glance at the clock to make sure it wasn’t past midnight (or one in the morning in one case), and start resetting the board for another game. For example, Saturday night started with a German restaurant that was to die for. Jägerschnitzel, a tender slab of fried pork drizzled in a dark gravy sauce with mushrooms cooked to perfection, accompanied by a classic German drink, Apfelschorle. Someone described it to me as the Germans’ love of sparkling water taken to the next level by adding apple juice to give it some taste. Let me tell you, I would drink it all day if we had it in the US. All of that was accompanied by my favorite German food, Bratkartoffeln. Of course the menu was in English, since they knew that we were American, but there was no way that I was ordering all of that food in English. I don’t think I have felt as German as I did eating that food since I was sitting at a desk in Gymnasium writing a Diktat in my Arbeitsheft. J We then headed home to play some games. We got home at eight thirty, which any other day would have meant that we would play two games and then head to bed. Four hours and four games later, we finished putting it away…only to march upstairs and get in the last couple matches of Capture the Flag on HALO 4. Compliments of the Xbox Live codes that Jared had collected, both he and I got way better at the game. That was something else that happened while playing so many games: I finally became comfortable enough as an adult (gasp!) to call them Jared and Sarah. That went against twelve years of having “Sister Moran” as my primary teacher and “Brother Moran” as my scoutmaster! It certainly felt more comfortable by the end of the week. The rest of the week was much the same with us as a family doing things together. Wednesday was the trunk-or-treat for their ward, which is trick or treating, but instead of going to houses people decorate their trunks and have candy there. Earlier in the week we had planned that I would dress up as Fix-it Felix from Wreck-it Ralph, because Jared was dressing up as Wreck-It Ralph and Abigail was Venelope von Sweets. Wednesday we all got ready, and the costumes turned out great! Later I found out that people from the ward had asked how I was connected to the Morans. I would like to think that we seemed like a family, because that was certainly how I felt.
All of these experiences were accompanied by feelings of happiness and love towards this family to whom I feel as close as my own family. Going back to the experience I had in Trier on Tuesday, I realized that it was because of the people with whom I was spending time that Trier had so much meaning to me years ago. Going back now, without people who were a part of those experiences? It’s not quite as wonderful. Today, as I left church to go catch my train, a wave of sadness washed over me, because for these nine days, I have made so many wonderful new memories that really have been the highlight of my time in Europe. While Trier and reliving those memories was an awesome experience, creating new memories with the Morans was so much more precious to me. Thank you Morans, and I love you!
At the same time, I had two experiences this week that made me uncover a deeper layer of this contentment. On Tuesday I had the chance to go to Trier, the small city where I attended Max Planck Gymnasium from fifth to eighth grade. I went to all of the regular sights in Trier, most of which have some significance to me. I visited the Dom, which we visited at the beginning of our stay in Germany (it really was one of the first real German places that we visited). This made me also think of the Fuβgängerzone in Trier, where the missionaries would stand in a circle and sing Christmas songs, and then try to teach people about the gospel. I visited the Porta Nigra, which stands as a constant reminder of the rich Roman heritage to which Trier stands heir. It also reminded me of Grundschule in Speicher, when our class went to a museum about Romans and we discussed the various styles of clothing. I got to try on the senator robes J I returned to the Basilica, to which we took an excursion as a religion class in sixth grade. This made me think of my favorite teacher from Gymnasium, Frau Brucherseifer, who loved helping me as much as possible expand and stretch my knowledge of the German language when I attended MPG. I also got to go places that have personal significance to me. Central to my visit was going back to MPG to walk around and remember what life was like when I was there. German schools end for most elementary and middle school-aged kids at 1:00, so when my train pulled into Trier Hauptbahnhof at 1:05, I was able to see fifth graders running for their trains the way that I am sure I did when rushing to get home after a day at school. I must have been as short as they are, but I feel like I was one of the tallest of the bunch J I also went to places connected to a specific memory. A lot of them weren’t life-changing events, but were everyday things that I look back at and remember fondly. Places like the toy store where we could always find the new Spiel des Jahres, or the music store where I remember Hannah and Glo first performing on their violins. The spot where Mark would stand during Christmas time wearing a Santa hat and playing his French horn to get money for Christmas gifts. I still remember the time I stood across the street and watched an old woman listen to him for a good two minutes, and as she began to move on, throw something that fluttered, rather than dropped, into the horn case at Mark’s feet. He just stopped playing and gazed down in shock at the ten Euro note she had given him. Ten Euros is a lot of money for a twelve-year old, especially one strapped for cash around Christmas time. J These were the kinds of things I thought about as I wandered around Trier. “The House That Built Me” by Miranda Lambert rang in my ears all that day, because my life then, and who I am today, was shaped by those years that I spent as an American in a German school in Trier, Germany.
This was an incredible experience, but there was a bittersweet tinge of sadness to the whole day. Despite all of the memories evoked by the places that I visited, none of the places felt like they fit anymore. After a period of joy to have the opportunity to return to my childhood haunts, it became rather melancholy. Yes, these places were mine, but at the same time they weren’t, because the people who made them mine no longer accompanied those places. Frau Brucherseifer had already gone home by the time I arrived at MPG, depriving me of the chance to reconnect with her. My friends from MPG with whom I might have wandered around the Fuβgängerzone were all in university (wow, British expression) or working that day, so I missed seeing them. And obviously my family, with whom I would certainly have the most memories about which to reminisce, was a continent away. I found myself trying to find a friend’s house that I hadn’t seen or been in contact with for eight years, because I was searching for someone else who had been a part of my memories in Trier. I was searching for anyone who had experienced my memories of Trier with me, so that I could share my joy about being there with them.
Contrast this to the rest of the week with the Morans. Before I headed to Germany, it was always a little hard to explain whom I was visiting. I found that the best way to describe the Morans was as my godparents, because while we aren’t related, they feel like family in every sense of the word. I love being with them, and I know that that love will be reciprocated. At first glance, the Morans and I didn’t do anything extremely remarkable. We played games (a LOT of games!), we went to the movies, and we ate some really good food. We slept in, we carved pumpkins, and generally just lived life. I helped do the dishes, helped Natalie clean the bathrooms one Saturday morning, and went to the family picture session that the Morans had planned. However, those are the days that I really treasured over this nine-day vacation. The days where we would get done with a game of Städte und Ritter, look at each other, glance at the clock to make sure it wasn’t past midnight (or one in the morning in one case), and start resetting the board for another game. For example, Saturday night started with a German restaurant that was to die for. Jägerschnitzel, a tender slab of fried pork drizzled in a dark gravy sauce with mushrooms cooked to perfection, accompanied by a classic German drink, Apfelschorle. Someone described it to me as the Germans’ love of sparkling water taken to the next level by adding apple juice to give it some taste. Let me tell you, I would drink it all day if we had it in the US. All of that was accompanied by my favorite German food, Bratkartoffeln. Of course the menu was in English, since they knew that we were American, but there was no way that I was ordering all of that food in English. I don’t think I have felt as German as I did eating that food since I was sitting at a desk in Gymnasium writing a Diktat in my Arbeitsheft. J We then headed home to play some games. We got home at eight thirty, which any other day would have meant that we would play two games and then head to bed. Four hours and four games later, we finished putting it away…only to march upstairs and get in the last couple matches of Capture the Flag on HALO 4. Compliments of the Xbox Live codes that Jared had collected, both he and I got way better at the game. That was something else that happened while playing so many games: I finally became comfortable enough as an adult (gasp!) to call them Jared and Sarah. That went against twelve years of having “Sister Moran” as my primary teacher and “Brother Moran” as my scoutmaster! It certainly felt more comfortable by the end of the week. The rest of the week was much the same with us as a family doing things together. Wednesday was the trunk-or-treat for their ward, which is trick or treating, but instead of going to houses people decorate their trunks and have candy there. Earlier in the week we had planned that I would dress up as Fix-it Felix from Wreck-it Ralph, because Jared was dressing up as Wreck-It Ralph and Abigail was Venelope von Sweets. Wednesday we all got ready, and the costumes turned out great! Later I found out that people from the ward had asked how I was connected to the Morans. I would like to think that we seemed like a family, because that was certainly how I felt.
All of these experiences were accompanied by feelings of happiness and love towards this family to whom I feel as close as my own family. Going back to the experience I had in Trier on Tuesday, I realized that it was because of the people with whom I was spending time that Trier had so much meaning to me years ago. Going back now, without people who were a part of those experiences? It’s not quite as wonderful. Today, as I left church to go catch my train, a wave of sadness washed over me, because for these nine days, I have made so many wonderful new memories that really have been the highlight of my time in Europe. While Trier and reliving those memories was an awesome experience, creating new memories with the Morans was so much more precious to me. Thank you Morans, and I love you!
