Day One KIS

Break out the chips and monster audience because it is time for the Kaiserslautern Invasion Saga. The next four blog posts are going to follow my cracked-up adventure in Kaiserslautern Germany. These entries will be long, read at your own risk. Now, commence the digital ink!

January 25^th, the travel mayhem begins.

Oh audience it was so nice to have a later train time. 9:00 AM is must more feasible than any hour before it. I had everything ready to go as well; the backpack was thoughtfully packed with essentials for travel needs and extra space for travels needs. I also had a blue fleece blanket in an old New Yorker (clothing store) bag that would be used for sleeping purposes once I reached Caitlin’s place. You all remember Caitlin right?

Flashback:

She’s my childhood friend from back home who met up with me in Paris at the end of my fall break Lyon trip. I made a pack to visit her second semester when I had more time.

Well as you all can see I was a prepared traveler who had an awesome train time. If only the trains weren’t such a pain in the ass some days. The non-direct train which I took from Le Havre to Rouen to Paris was expected, no issues there. In fact I made it to St. Lazare without a single problem; my ticket was in order, the conductor was polite, and there were no delays. I reached  Paris with time to spare, a nice benefit since my next train was leaving from a different station.

Paris is the heart of France and in order for a heart to beat it needs some veins and arteries made of railroads. Unfortunately like in an obese American heart, France’s veins and arteries can become clogged when technical issues arise. My train landed in Paris’s Gare de l’Est on time. It even left on time, not a minute after the printed arrival hour. However, halfway through the journey to Kaiserslautern an artery became clogged.

Ladies and gentleman this train will be terminating in Strasbourg due to technical difficulties. There will be another train at this station which you may use to continue to your final destination. We hope that this has not inconvenienced you or your families. We at ICE wish you a pleasant rest of the day.

ICE must stand for Irrational Commuting in Europe. Inconvenienced? Oh how that word makes my blood boil. Everyone on the train did a simultaneous face palm, funny sight. 

Sure enough the train halted at the Strasbourg train station and we were forced to exit. However, people began to board the train. In France technical difficulty means “returning to Paris”. If that weren’t enough to tick people off, the new train that we all were supposed to board was already full. Being the charming and generous person whom you all know and love, I stood in aisle and allowed an older woman to sit down. An unattractive Mrs. Robinson decided that her purse needed the seat next to her more than any of the people without seats. Kindness must have been her middle name. I stood the rest of the way (only about forty minutes, not bad) while listening to my I-pod and chowing on a pink lady.  Inconvenienced, you bet your damn life.

Transition to forty minutes of Elton John later, I arrived in Kaiserslautern. I luckily knew that one of the passengers spoke English and asked him at which station we were. I would have been able to read the Kaiserslautern sign had I been sitting down, but the windows were low enough that a standing person could not see anything but tracks outside. He told me, “Kaiserslautern,” and I hopped off the train as fast as I could. Good thing too, three seconds later the train rolled away in the direction of Frankfurt. I had made it to Germany. Bout time too!

Caitlin was there to greet me with open arms. I was worried that she wouldn’t be there due to my later arrival. I would have called her but my phone apparently only works in France. Such a joy to find this fact during my trip. No phone on the trip, worse has happened. After we released our embraces from one another she lead me to her flat. Well, almost. An epic quote from Caitlin, “this is your first time in Germany right? Let’s get a beer!” Who wouldn’t agree to that?

I was taken to her favorite bar which was an old school pub that had the vibe of “yes you’re in Germany” painted all over it. I dug it. The beer was a general German beer (no I don’t remember the name) and tasted like a beer. Shocker. I realize that although Germany is glorified for its beer, a beer is a beer. In the States our cheap college beer blows because it is cheap. Our good and great beers are far better because decent time is actually taken to make them. This German beer was fine, just like all good beers.

One beer and one block later we reached Caitlin’s apartment. Cool thing is that it was the penthouse of the building, stressful thing was that the two of us had to clean the place and make some hummus before the potluck later than night. Aye...let’s do this.

The hummus was a new experience for me, I’ve never made it before. We didn’t have a blender to use but Caitlin did have forks, lots of forks. I am now an expert at mashing beans into a paste-like substance. In the end the hummus was a bit on the watery side (totally not my fault wink wink) but was very tasty. In fact I ate most of it at the potluck, along with many other dishes. Potluck equals tons of food, as if I wouldn’t. But before we took off for the delicious platter of plates I met Peter and Tuuli, two other guests staying at Caitlin’s apartment, who hailed from the Netherlands. What an adorable couple and a couple of delightful people. I went on with them well, fortunate seeing as we were staying in the same flat. Forward march to the potluck!

I’m not entirely certain if my eating habits are attractive, but they are certainly entertaining. I suppose it is my size; most people don’t expect a little slip of a girl to gorge herself on a buffet of food. Honestly audience I can never help it since food is so yummy and there’s so much of it at events like potlucks. Barbecues in Chicago summers are worse, those burgers disappear when I’m around, but a collection of foreign dishes is also in danger of being inhaled by yours truly. My favorite cuisine of the night had to have been this ham pasta combination. It was saucy and porky, perfection.

After my face was thoroughly stuffed...WITH FOOD! Nice try audience but my mind is far filthier than yours. Huh, maybe you wouldn’t have noticed the word play without me telling you. Oh well too late to fix it! After I had eaten a third of my weight in food I made the decision to engulf some beer. I did not become wasted (you need not fear) but was at a swell happiness for the rest of the night. Speaking of the rest of the night, it involved the socializing of my favorite form. Once more, please guess audience.

If you shouted “talking, that’s what you love to do MareBear” then you’re wrong; the only person besides me who is allowed to refer to me as MareBear is my older brother. The socializing was talking though, that part is correct. Oh what fun I had spouting random subjects left and right. I’m certain that I showed my naïve colors as a college student, but no one seemed to mind too much. The other people were young travelers who were all involved in a website community known as Couch Surf. I was able to meet and speak to many of them but failed to remember most names. Damn society for making conversations start with “hi I’m so-and-so,” much harder to remember right away rather than after you know a little bit about them! For example if you are able to pin a fact to someone like, “the American who is living in France and has a dolphin named Georges is Mary,” it becomes easier to remember the name since you have a person to reference. Science of psychology people! Wait, is psychology a real science? I’m not sure, going to say no. Just like Pluto isn't a planet. Now that I've said the words it is fact. Ah science.

After the potluck a partial party of the party moved to Caitlin’s favorite bar (I don’t remember the name because we were introduced before we learned anything about one another). There more talking occurred, mostly with some New Yorkers. If I recall, Scott was teasing me about my ideas of France’s socialist government. I don’t know what he thought the word meant but my interpretation is along the lines of, “a political and economic theory of social organization which advocates that the means of production, distribution, and exchange should be owned or regulated by the community as a whole.” Synonyms, communal or brotherhood. Thank you Oxford dictionary, you have assured me of being right. 

Honestly I was probably spitting rubbish which would explain why he was laughing at me. People alcohol and poor debate skills do not reflect well upon intelligence. I have yet to fully learn this.

            

The other soul (from Peoria) who tolerated my blatherings was Mike, a guy who actually lived in Kaiserslautern rather than visiting it for the Invasion. He was down to earth and a good listener, poor dude suffered my chatterbox nature. At least he avoided the Underground Club, that was sensible of him. My group was not as sharp.

The Underground Club was a German club, surprise. It had a four euro cover which came with a shot ticket. My shot was jagermeister (duh) and was done with other people, namely Amy. Ah, Miss Amy. She needs to lighten up a smidge. Being a travelling musician she is moody to say the least but pleasant in her own right. I talked with her and wasn't bored or irritated, but a few more smiles wouldn't harm her life.

The rest, well there wasn't a rest of the Underground Club. We all left after about forty minutes. Why? Two reasons; we were bored, and the club was filled with poser punk youths. If there is anything worse than a regular youth it’s a poser youth. I took a special offense from these kids, punk has been one of my labels (I think it’s the amount of black in my wardrobe and my spiky personality) and I don’t appreciate kids who work at it. Chances are if you are trying to be something that isn’t natural, then you’re a poser. If this is the case for you get the hell off my blog! (oh that’s right, get was used outside of quotation marks)

Aside from that fit of overreaction, my night was awesome. Sure the Underground Club was a bit of bust due to the price versus time spent, but it was interesting to find a poser punk gathering in Germany. We all returned to our respected homes for the weekend after leaving the Underground Club. Caitlin and I slept upstairs while everyone else stayed in their assigned rooms. Best night’s sleep in a long time. Damn you Crous, why can’t you give us German mattresses?

Tomorrow will dawn another day except this one will not only have German beer, it will also possess a hike.