Jane Xu
October 28, 2023
As soon as I land in Calgary, I am hit by a truck of questions my dad has marinated for two months: “where do you like it better, here or there? Did you enjoy your trip? Would you prefer to have grown up there or here? Would you move there? Do you think it’s worth it to go to Germany?”
I implode. These are deceptively simple questions that I cannot word my answers to.
13 hours earlier…
We are on the autobahn at 5 in the morning to catch our 7am flight. A light mist of rain follows us north from small town Seevetal to the Hamburg airport. The horizon is an apocalyptic grey; fog-dusted windmills and distant lights are the only indication of life. I slowly awake, both to the cold morning and to the realization that we will soon be as far from this place as we were in August.
[Beginning our return]
There are a few remaining things I remember vividly: the food, the school, the old cities, 8am lüften sessions (opening ALL the windows to achieve optimal room climate), waiting for the bus, everything being closed on Sundays. But to miss Hamburg is not just about missing these things as isolated recollections– to miss Hamburg is to untether myself from the complete cultural experience of living here. The past two months (of commuting, walking, eating, teaching, talking, reading) have inked an unforgettable chapter in all of our lives.
[Lüften]
Where do I begin? I could talk about the döner: simple in design, profound in their flavour and narrative. These are pockets that sing of memories and traditions passed down from generation to generation. These tell a story of the Turkish workers who were invited to Germany in the 60s for cheap labour who, after their work was done, stayed and established the döner restaurants that Germany is so endeared by. Behind every kebab was someone’s grocery list, a market location, and a dedicated time of day when the ingredients are acquired. I guess this makes sense why the word “culture” is derived from the Latin verb “colere”, which is the cultivation of soil and plants.
[Döner from A Lá MAMA in Seevetal]
I could rant endlessly about the transit experience — like many Germans who like to be on time, I have had a love hate relationship with Deutschebahn. A good chunk of our time was spent waiting at a terminal or a barren train stop, such as that time we got stranded at Ashausen bahnhof (long story). If the train isn’t already cancelled, it is either delayed or suddenly relocated to a platform halfway across the station. For future reference, make sure to always have your route planned and with a plan B… to Z. Google Maps is also often unreliable — the hvv app has been a great help for locating trains and giving information on delays and accessibility. On THAT note, please remember to cancel the hvv switch pass by the 10th of the last month! You wouldn’t want to be charged an extra 49 euros for a month where you won’t even be there.
[Comic about how we completely removed a Copenhagen trip from our itinerary, and also just the feeling of trying to constantly chase after a big box with four wheels]
I wonder how the kids at Goethe-Schule Harburg are enjoying the last leg of their fall break. I wonder if the teachers enjoyed chaperoning the class trips as much as they will enjoy taking this weekend to pull themselves back together to teach next week. Especially for the grade 12s working towards their Abiturs, I wish them all the best.
[Classroom at GSH]
And I remember, strongly, just moving about this place, sensing the land and all that’s alive around us. Some places are just so memorable because of how intimate and familiar it is (i.e. Harburg marktplatz, a shopping square targeted for immigrant folks and families). In Germany, people walk everywhere. Walking is very much intentional, and it is normal to go on a “stroll” for 40 minutes just to drop off some bottles at the pfand. It is embedded within the culture.
[Pfand voucher/coupon from two plastic bottles]
Being back in Calgary, reality hits as hard as the frigid, October air. From the first moment I saw it coming down on the plane, Calgary is so paper, holiday white — the snow covered fields and ashen sky is nothing like the rich greens I saw flying into Hamburg. I wonder when the ski hills are opening this year. I am greeted at the door by my dog, who jumps like a spring and attacks all my bags with his curious nose. He looks smaller than what I remember.
So yes, dad, I enjoyed my trip and it was worth every second. Although Calgary still wins the comfort battle for me, I surely miss the routine that has survived our stay (for example, I didn’t realize how nice it is to not put on lotion and still be moisturized, given the humidity in Hamburg). I have yet to collect my thoughts about this whole experience, but I am sure every loose end will be tied together once I marinate for a few more days back home, reveling in the comfort of familiarity and the bittersweet farewell.