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*thirteen hours later*

Lesson of the Day:  Just because the train doesn’t have baggage regulations doesn’t mean it’s a good idea to pack your weight in luggage.

Today was unquestionably the longest day of my life.  The adrenaline/delirium combination that was keeping me awake and happy at the airport wore off right before I met all of the other AmCham interns.  Jet lag encroaching, I struggled to roll my two 50-pound suitcases down the sidewalk, seizing every opportunity I had to explain my excessive packing. 

I promise I have a reason for packing so much.

No one asked.

You see, I’m studying in Tübingen for a year after the internship is over.

Uneven surface.  Blue bag topples over.

Oh thank you, but I can take care of both of them myself.  I need to practice for later.

I should have accepted their help when they offered it because I was carrying my weight in luggage, looking at three solo train rides and five hours of travel.  All of the credit for my punctual arrival in Schiltach therefore goes to the mastermind of the German train system.  It is incredibly organized and easy to use.   Any questions that might arise can be answered by one of the many friendly passengers of the rail.  In fact, I’d like to give a shout out to a few who helped me along my way.

Frankfurt to Mannheim

My first train.  When I arrived in Mannheim, I was supposed to only have a 12 minute layover to find my next train, which was causing a lot of anxiety.  Luckily, I was at the Frankfurt station an hour early, and the next train stopping in Frankfurt was also going to Mannheim.  If I could take that train, I’d have plenty of time between my trains in Mannheim.  But I don’t know German train rules, and everyone looked too scary to ask, so what did I do?  I located the most American-looking person I could find (he was wearing a “Michigan” shirt) and asked him.  It probably wasn’t the best move strategically, but luckily he was actually German and knew the train system (yes, I could take the earlier train!).  He even helped me with my giant suitcases!  This man, Michigan Man, was exactly the person I needed to meet just as I was taking off on my own.  After I told him why I was in Germany, he would only speak to me in German.  So that set the tone for the rest of the day (has it only been a day?) and, really, this trip as a whole.  Thanks for putting me in my place, Michigan Man.

Mannheim to Offenburg

No one really great helped me out here.  The train was 15 minutes late, I watched an elderly lady feed her middle-aged son cookies, and some snarky woman hissed at me for having one of my pieces of luggage in the aisle.

Offenburg to Schiltach

This is what I saw when I deboarded the train in OFFENBURG.

Hey, Ste. Genevieve:  New Offenburg….Armbruster… See the connection??

A really nice elderly couple waited patiently for me to take this picture so they could help me with my suitcases.  I had to go down a level and then back up another level to get to my next platform.  Frau und Herr Loer literally WOULD NOT let me do it by myself.  That tiny little lady snatched my bag from me and pushed it all the way to platform seven.  When we discovered the elevator was broken and I would have to carry the suitcases up the giant staircase, she insisted on standing at the bottom and asking everyone who passed if they would help me!  What a woman.

I finally reached the top of the grand staircase with my 100 pounds of life and lifted my weak, tired head only to see a platform completely stuffed full of rowdy, screaming, pubescent middle-school-aged children.  This literally made me so nervous that I thought I saw a tarantula climb across the train tracks. 

While waiting for the train, a man who appeared to be returning from a hiking trip with his family approached me and asked if he could help me with my bags.  I willingly accepted his offer, and he rode with me all the way to Schiltach, checking with me along the way to make sure there would be someone waiting for me at the station, etc.

The train ride from Offenburg to Schiltach was basically out of a storybook.  There are valleys and mountains and rivers and castles.  The cities are nestled into the woods, little white houses with deep brown accents, cobblestone paths connecting each one to the next.  Schiltach is no exception (except that it might be the most beautiful of them all).  Even the Hansgrohe headquarters mesh well with the picturesque, romantic little fairytale theme.

I’m living one train stop away from Schiltach Mitte, where I go to work.  This is my house:

My landlord is a 65 year old lady who is extremely sweet, super clean, and doesn’t speak a lick of English.  SCORE.  She also speaks with an accent (many people in this area do), so I can’t always understand everything she says.  But we’ll get there.  Baby steps.

My room is spacious and old-fashioned.  I love it.  I can see the mountain out my window.  There’s a Bäkerei (dangerous) across the street, and the train station is just down the road.  The only downside is that I don’t have internet access yet.

What. A. Day.  And I start work tomorrow!  Better get some sleep so I’m not useless.

More pictures....

Having a sink in your room is really quite handy.

 Exactly the '70s style/color curtains I would have chosen for myself.

I like the way this lamp shines on the wall.

 Ironic how this closet is 8 million times bigger than the one in my dorm, but I only have a fraction of my clothes here.

 The view from my window.

 Shower room.  Sometimes I forget there is a window.

Bathroom sink.

Toilet.  I really like the green-turtle-stone thing going on in this room.