Dresden- Part I

Prior to my arrival in Berlin, ten years had passed since the last time I stepped foot on the continent of Europe. My memories are as follows:

• Amazing pizza in Austria- My first "Margherita Pizza": Tomato, Cheese, Basil
• Sipping a coke from a glass bottle while staring over the river at the back of the house from Sound of Music, also in Austria
  
• Erik walking into a red telephone booth, somewhere in Germany or Austria
  
• Taking a tour of a Salt mine in Salzberg, Austria--very cool wooden slides
• Meeting my family in Germany
• Going to eat with my family in Germany. Erik ate obscene amounts of spaetzle.
• Genuine confusion from said German family at realization that my brothers and I could not climb trees. (Equal confusion from me as to why you would want to)
  
• My cousin Jan stealing beer and trying to convince my brother, Ralf (who was probably 8 or 9 at the time) to drink it. I was not amused.
  
• Being deathly afraid that there were snakes in a field. Once again, not amused.
  
• Having my first soft-boiled egg. Very amused.

In my memory, the streets of Germany smell like salty deli meat.
The last time I was in Germany, I was not in Berlin.
The streets of Berlin do not smell like Deli meat. Usually, they smell like urine.

To be honest, I don't particularly like Berlin. Throughout my world travels (Oh, to sound pretentious), I don't think there has been a city that I have liked less. More on this to come.

Don't get me wrong- I have enjoyed my time here and the experience has been fascinating. The museums have been interesting. But the city itself- not so much my style.

So when the decision was made to go south, to the city of Dresden, and to visit some of my family--I was ecstatic. Dresden, I felt, was a place that I would like.

We rented a car* from Enterprise and Elise skillfully navigated the autobahn south to the German state of Saxony. Our destination? The McDonald's in Elbe Park.

*Here, I use the word car in a very broad sense.
Our chariot to Saxony was actually a Chevrolet Matiz--which, as you can see from the picture to the right, is practically a toy car. I half expected to see a giant wind-up pin in the back.

The car had no pick-up, a nail-biting situation when driving on the autobahn.

This piece-of-shit almost had me wishing I had a Trabi.


I wouldn't use the word dread to describe my feelings during the drive. It was more of a nervous anxiety. There was geniune excitement somewhere deep, deep beneath the feeling of nausea (completely unrelated to Elise's driving).

It had been a decade since I saw Katja and Jan. I didn't remember very much about them, other than they were nice. I had exchanged emails with Katja and her concerns about her English had me concerned as well. What if's filled my uneasy mind. What if I didn't recognize them? What if they didn't recognize me? What if we couldn't communicate? What if they didn't like me? What if we had nothing in common?

I wouldn't say I'm a worried person. Some might, but I wouldn't. I consider myself cautious, thoughful (as in, full of thoughts), and sometimes this puts more pressure on me than comfortable. For example, I never see myself as simply a representative of myself-particularly when abroad or in situations with people unknown to me. I think of myself as an ambassador. I represent myself, my family, my school/employer, my religion, my political affiliations, my city, my state and my country. So if I make an ass out of myself, I don't think it only affects me. I could potentially be making an ass out of all the institutions that I belong to. Yes, it is a lot of pressure to put on yourself. But, it keeps you on your toes and (typically) on the straight and very-very-narrow. It's not uptight, it's determination and a different worldview. Anyways...

After roughly two hours on the road, we pulled into the McDonald's. I didn't see them. Or worse, I didn't know what they looked like now and could be looking right at them and not even realize! I was too nervous to eat. I was much more inclined to use the water closet. (I have now taken the term water closet and made it my own. Expect me to come back and say: "Would you pause the movie so I can use the water closet?" or "I'll be ready in 5 minutes, just a quick trip to the water closet." I love euphemisms!)

On my way out of the water closet, I noticed a girl and guy standing together. She had thin black hair pulled tightly back into a ponytail. She looked angry. I hoped that wasn't them. Then the guy next to her grabbed her hand, and I let out a sigh of relief. I turned the corner and then I smiled.

Once I saw them, I knew at once who they were. I wouldn't say there is a family resemblance. It's more likely that somewhere in the back of my mind I knew what they looked like. But there was a very powerful feeling of comfort that instantly put me at ease. All those silly doubts, washed away. That's not to say it wasn't awkward for a little while. But family is family. Despite the years, and the distance, and the infrequent communication--Jan and Katja felt like family. After a couple weeks away from home, that was certainly a welcome feeling.

Katja had a busy day planned. We'd leave our car, and Jan would be our chauffeur for the day. First, a palace on the "outskirts" of town. That's one we had to look up in the German/English dictionary she brought with her. Then, a tour of the city on a double-decker bus. Finally, some traditional German food from the Middle Ages.

I was as happy as a kid at Christmas.