Fare thee well
Fare thee well
May your path be rocky
May your hills be steep
May you stand proud on the summit
Fare thee well
May your nights be peaceful
May your days be interesting
May you enjoy your dreams and from them waking
Fare thee well
May your knowledge never be complete
May your questions never all be answered
May you never stop seeking
Fare thee well
May your friends be true
May your lovers be also
May you be blessed with enough of both
Fare thee well
May your sun shine brightly
May your storms be fierce
May you always see the rainbow
Fare thee well
May your ship set sail
May your path begin
May you set forth with optimism and determination
Fare thee well
May your attempts not always be successful
May your adversities be surmountable
May you appreciate your successes and learn from your failures
Fare thee well
May your hunger for experiences never be sated
May your thirst for knowledge never slake
May you partake of life and never be full
May you succeed--
Fare thee well.
bring me your tired, your poor, your socially challenged
Current total: 6
Perhaps there is a scent, a pheromone exuded that draws them like mothes to flames. Perhaps there was a sign over our heads, inviting the occasionally dubious residents of the PDRB (People's Democratic Republic of B.) to come talk to us. Last count, six. Since yesterday. Maybe it's just the German, that makes us stick out.
1. "Excuse me, can you take my picture please? In front of the elk?" Okay, legit. A tourist. There are more than one of them, and having strangers photograph you is not unusual.
2. "Can you do me a favor? I just got a wierd phone call and I need to get your opinion on this, clear my head." Yeah, okay, shoot. "So, I have this friend who has a girlfriend, and this friend of mine still has contact to his ex from high school. They're just friends, but the girlfriend is jealous." Uhhuhh.... "So the girlfriend recently found a shoebox of pictures and love letters from the ex, and wants the boyfriend to burn it and not talk to the ex anymore." Errrr (brief conference in German) We think she's overreacting. If they're just friends.... (what are we, advice columnists?).
2.5. Mr. Smile-wave-howareya. Not to unique, except he stared at us for about half a block.
3 & 4. So my friend and I are having a debate. What you say could just change our lives (random guy comes up to us two, seated on one end of a bench). Um, okay (me). So do you floss before or after you brush (him). What did he say? (German, in german) (Attempt to explain flossing in German; limited success). I floss after, if you must know, she says it changes (me). Really? I thought you'd be a before-and-after-girl (him; do I look that uptight? do I detect a double entendre? isn't that a bit personal) (smalltalk: whoareya, whereyoufrom, howdoyoulikeboulder, howlongyabeenhere, whatsfunaroundhere, etc) (enter friend). So I just asked; she flosses after (him, meaning me), she says it changes (meaning German). Oh really? My name's .... (friend, shaking my hand; bald head, rings) (smalltalk: areyoustudents, what'dyoumajorin, yeahhikingisfun). So I'm going to sit down (friend) so scoot down (I don't move; for some reason, friend shakes my hand again). You can sit there (me, pointing to largely empty rest of bench) (friend sits on the--literally--ten square inches of corner. Intro to physical contact. I don't move. Becoming increasingly less friendly). Let's see how long you hold up (me; friend stands up). Are you a punk rocker? (friend, points to German's belt; considering we recently saw a man with purple mowhawk, four inch plarforms, and other articles of adventurous clothing, German looked decidedly whitebread). Let me sit between you (friend). No, you can sit down there (me, pointing at end of bench) (more hand shaking, don't know why). What, you're giving orders? (friend) Come on, I don't think we'll get much from these girls...
5. Scene: Conor's, for the football (read: soccer) match (read: game). Brother and Brother's Friends have left; only I and German remain. Enter: Bearded male, forties.
Stanger: You are having a German Party here?
Me: Er...
Stranger: I have seen you at other games before, yes? I am friends with Till
Me: (sigh of relief: I know Till, from having randomly talked to him in a bar, coincidently) (introductions)
Turns out he is Russian, speaks no German, friends with some Germans I met while watching another match in the same bar. Nice guy, offered us a ride home, didn't need us.
6. So we went dancing, at the Grizzly Rose (great place). I was looking for German, who was fending off the attentions of a slightly short black haired guy, with whom I ended up dancing. Who proceeded to do the onestep (for people who can't manage to twostep) while practically spitting in my ear in an effort to convey the fact that his name was Ivan, he came from Spain, was alone this evening, and found be to be beautiful/a good dancer/whatever else he thought I would like/make me more amenable to his dances. Tried to escape after the first dance, was unsuccessful. Made clear I had a boyfriend (sadly, no, but handy excuse) and refused repeated subsequent offers for uncoordinated swaying. Definately creepy, but as he was hitting up other girls, I don't feel picked out specially except for the fact I was female and not physically attached to a male for the evening.
Addendum:
7. Apparently as German was waiting at the mall to be picked up (by me, so I am no witness), some completely random kid came up and asked her for her cell number, so they could hang out the next day. She wasn't too sorry to inform him she already had a boyfriend and her cell number wouldn't do him much good anyhow, seeing as it's German...
Where do you see yourself?
1. in ten minutes?
probably asleep under the kitchen table. Our house is a bit crowded, and it's hard to find places to put people. And I've only gotten about four hours of sleep.
2. in ten hours?
watching the end of the Germany v Portugal game in a bar somewhere.
3. in ten days?
at my house in Louisville, trying to get organized and moving out.
4. in ten weeks?
good question. Somewhere between Heiligenhafen and Mainz, Germany.
5. in ten years?
Married with kids. Living in Africa, South America, Asia, Europe. Working on a boat. Teaching. Being a writer. Busking. Being transient. Doing something interesting.
...
Fuck.
This is starting to look like the end of something, and I don't mean Hemingway. No, this is the point where I feel the subtle weight of my departure like a handmade backpack full of organic produce. My weekend, interspersed with bouts of virgorous manual labor, included several meetings, lists: What to Bring, Documents You'll Need, Stuff to Take Care Of Before You Leave.
The next three weeks are going to be awesome. I've tons of plans, two different houseguests, no class (a first since last August!), hopefully no work, and summer in Colorado. Yet everywhere I go I feel an itch between my shoulder blades, like someone's watching me (I knew I never should've talked to that creepy guy!), making me feel constantly unsatisfied, as if I should be eking more out of my last Boulder moments.
It's not like it won't be here when I get back. It was after the last time. True, they bulldozed what seems like half my hometown to make way for another grocery store complex and the beginnings of a second, and the 42-foot hotdog that was a kitchy landmark and site of many childhood memories has moved to greener pastures. If course, it ain't Kansas any more. I know when I get back it'll be different, many of the people I knew will have graduated and moved on (hopefully). Such friends as I have will have changed--like last time, some friends will fade into acquaintences with whom I have a shared past and only a mildly similar present. My Europe stories will once again be stored for some undetermined appropriate future time, when I feel I can tell them without coming off as an egoist or an elitist. "Oh, that reminds me of this one time when I was in Italy..." does not endear me to people who do not understand that these experiences comprise the entirety of my last year.
And I still hold on to it. I still think about and talk about 'last year,' last year being the one I spent across the pond and not the 11 months I have spent in Boulder. I still hold on to, think about and talk about, this 'last year'. Partly because it's different, it's not Boulder and therefore unique; partly, it's because I'm still in 'this year' and in order for that to become 'last year' I need to move beyond; partly, these experiences play an important role in defining who and what I am.
I've changed quite a bit as a result of them. I'm proud of this, put in effort to 'improve' my life, wear these changes like badges of honor, distinguishing characteristics. I think they make me boring, too. I get brownie points from Grownups, equivalent to pinching my cheek, for 'living responsibly'. I take things seriously, I go to bed early, and maybe I miss out. And maybe not. Mostly, I'm happy that way, and am learning to entertain myself without constantly having to surround myself with other people (though sometimes I wish I had other people who would surround me).
Lately I feel sorry for myself--or better said, feel unhappy, because I am mourning Boulder. Already. I fear I will spoil my last weeks by saying goodbye too soon. I feel lethargic sometimes. I don't call people, don't bother to find things to do, stay home and watch movies. I don't want to invest myself in a place I will soon leave, as if by staying home I would be happier.
The next three months--perhaps longer; perhaps forever--I will be homeless. These months I will live out of a suitcase, and stay no longer than a couple of weeks in any one place. I will see many old friends, people and places, and hopefully meet new friends. I will be off on an adventure, this time not excluded on basis of language from fully enjoying Germany. I hope to see and do things I've not done before.... and I will enjoy it. And have new stories to tell, for those who wish to hear them...
