Back to Deutsch
I am back to work and just ran into my co-worker and co-blogger Deb. She asked me about my blogging in English and I told her that now, since I am back in New York, I will switch back to German. So, this will be the last English entry for the moment.
I wrote about Kafka's comparison of Prague to a mother with claws. My analogy stated that Paris is similar. On my way back I made this experience again, and got stuck for a night in Paris. The flight before was overbooked and since I had a free ticket (I used my frequent flyer miles) I was bumped out of the plane :(
One extra night in Paris. Sounds not bad, but unfortunately I had a hotel close to the airport and around an hour from the city center. And since public transportation is ending around midnight and it was already after 8pm when I checked in, I decided not to leave the hotel anymore.
This was a very significant ending of my Paris stop. I don't know why, but every time I am in Paris something goes wrong. This time I had to change apartments. I was meant to stay with my friend Joel, but then his wife had a life crisis and since the atmosphere was very tense, I decided to change accommodation for one night. I was actually ready to stay in a hotel, but - unexpected - I could stay with Vanessa, a former co-worker from the Museum who is doing an internship at the Jewish museum in Paris. So, in case you read this: Thanks, Vanessa!
When I left Germany my sister asked me if I feel like going home. I answered yes.
- But isn't Muenster your home?
- It is, too.
- But this isn't possible. (In German there is no plural for the word "home.")
- For me it is. I have two homes. One in Germany, where my roots are, and one in New York, where my life is.
I have to think about it because when I returned to New York and went through all the immigration procedures, the last officer asked me why I went to Europe. After I answered her, she handed me back my immigration papers and said "Welcome home, sir." It was the first time an "official" person told me, "welcome home" when I returned to the States. A nice feeling.
An even nicer feeling was it then to be back in Lisa's arms. We had sushi (the food that I associate so much with New York, but this is another story) and Lisa backed a delicious brownies cake saying: Welcome home. It's good to be home, in both homes.
I wrote about Kafka's comparison of Prague to a mother with claws. My analogy stated that Paris is similar. On my way back I made this experience again, and got stuck for a night in Paris. The flight before was overbooked and since I had a free ticket (I used my frequent flyer miles) I was bumped out of the plane :(
One extra night in Paris. Sounds not bad, but unfortunately I had a hotel close to the airport and around an hour from the city center. And since public transportation is ending around midnight and it was already after 8pm when I checked in, I decided not to leave the hotel anymore.
This was a very significant ending of my Paris stop. I don't know why, but every time I am in Paris something goes wrong. This time I had to change apartments. I was meant to stay with my friend Joel, but then his wife had a life crisis and since the atmosphere was very tense, I decided to change accommodation for one night. I was actually ready to stay in a hotel, but - unexpected - I could stay with Vanessa, a former co-worker from the Museum who is doing an internship at the Jewish museum in Paris. So, in case you read this: Thanks, Vanessa!
When I left Germany my sister asked me if I feel like going home. I answered yes.
- But isn't Muenster your home?
- It is, too.
- But this isn't possible. (In German there is no plural for the word "home.")
- For me it is. I have two homes. One in Germany, where my roots are, and one in New York, where my life is.
I have to think about it because when I returned to New York and went through all the immigration procedures, the last officer asked me why I went to Europe. After I answered her, she handed me back my immigration papers and said "Welcome home, sir." It was the first time an "official" person told me, "welcome home" when I returned to the States. A nice feeling.
An even nicer feeling was it then to be back in Lisa's arms. We had sushi (the food that I associate so much with New York, but this is another story) and Lisa backed a delicious brownies cake saying: Welcome home. It's good to be home, in both homes.
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