When in Doubt, Eat

Wow! I have taken a looooong hiatus from my blog writing. A month in a half in internet time is like five years! You all thought I was dead!

…WELL, I WAS. I decided to spend my afterlife on the internet too. I mean, what else am I supposed to do? Frolic with the angels?

(Side note: This was the first time I’ve ever written frolic and it feels weird. Shouldn’t there be a K? Anyway.)

During the last month in a half, my computer broke (by ghosts, I’m not kidding this time!), and I moved from one tiny room in a popular part of town to one giant apartment in a less desirable part. Also during this time I created and nurtured a blossoming bouncing baby facebook group called:

Hamburg Food Enthusiasts: English

It’s important to note that it says ENGLISH, because even though I’ve lived here for over four months, my German vocabulary has only expanded to about 30 nonsensical words. Hooray! Burgermeister!

Within a week of starting this group, it grew with such determination I thought for sure that I was going to spontaneously combust. YES, I know my blog handle HAM IN HAMBURG implies that I’m a dramatic, normally socialized person who loves to be the center of attention. Well, the truth is I have a love-hate relationship with people that I battle with internally on a daily basis! SO! Love ya!

As it stands, this mutant I’ve created has over 230 people in it, and we go on bi-weekly journeys across Hamburg to try new and interesting cuisine. 10-20 people show up at any given time, and I have to…like reserve stuff, and entertain!

 

It’s been crazy! And I’ve met some wonderful, lovely people in the process.

(Note: Some of these people aren’t solely from the food group, but it felt important anyway to note how much I’ve enjoyed getting to know them anyway)

And the FOOD, the whole point of this process, has been mildly disappointing to amazing.

In some ways, this group has helped me connect with this city on a spiritual level (and by that I just mean being well-fed) and gain some friendships I otherwise wouldn’t have been able to create. Thanks, internet!

Of course, there are some cons having to be the leader of a very active group. I’ve had to kick out a couple of people (one was a dude that was hitting on women, the other was a woman who called me a dictator! Cool!) and also orchestrating events is this crazy long process with a lot of hoops to jump through. I’ve also had to pretend that I knew a lot more about food than I do (I feel there is a long distance between “enjoying eating anything and everything” and an official “foodie” and I’m trying to breach that gap as we speak).

But it has been worth it. This group gives me the illusion that I’m popular which obviously has been my goal since the beginning of my life, it helps me orient myself in the city, and make connections/build friendships in a place that I knew very little people.

There is also nothing like being forced to go outside when you want nothing else but to stay at home in your pajamas eating oreos because you have literally 20 people counting on you to be there. ūüėÄ

In conclusion, I give this 4 out of 5 stars. Will try again. Sweet and salty with a tangy aftertaste.

Sarah the Burgermeister

P.S. In case you happen to be in Hamburg, the places we tried are: San Khao Thai Food, Paulines (brunch) La Quesadilla, and Ashoka Indian Food. ALSO JUST IN CASE THE INTERNET POLICE COME: The pictures are all taken from my food group and I politely asked if I can use their faces in my very, very popular blog that I assume only my mother reads. Guten Tag!

When in Doubt, Eat

A Day in the Life of an English Teacher in Hamburg

The weather in Hamburg is seemingly unpredictable. Each morning I wake up, stare out of the window, check my phone, as if there is any comprehension in understanding what 80 degrees with thunderstorms mean. My friend sends me a link to an English news site; a tornado warning. How do you dress for tornado weather?

I check the time. I give myself ample amounts of time for the Hochbahn, a subway system that is meticulously on time throughout Hamburg. During rush hour, every train comes at exactly four minutes apart from each other, with only a few seconds of leniency. If you’re not there right when the Hochbahn arrives, you miss it. Some how people know when it’s coming, an every-4-minute schedule memorized, but I give myself¬†plenty of wiggle room. My morning routine is not down to the minute (yet.)

I step on the train. If I get on at 7:52, there is a huge crowd of people. Standing room only. You are forced against someone else (And oh, deodorant is often only a suggestion here), or huddling in the corner away from making eye contact. At 7:56 there is no one. A deserted landscape of dark red or dark blue fabric patterns.

hochbahn (hamburg.de)

Alas, I made it to the earlier train. People everywhere. Some are tired, they are closing their eyes while placing their heads on the window. Some are alert. They are staring intensely at each person for 3-5 seconds. Sizing them up, taking them in. Oh, the staring. When first arriving here, the staring was a slap to the face. What is wrong with me? Why won’t they smile when I smile? My American¬†habits of smiling while staring gets immediately put to bed. After two months, I have started staring back. People watching has become an Olympic sport!

I make it to the English school I’m teaching at¬†30 minutes early. This is common. Lesson planning is a never ending process. If you planned your lessons the night before, you must make copies. If you didn’t plan anything, you better hurry up. A grammar lesson is first thing.

In Hamburg, if you’re aiming to be an English teacher, unless you’re fluent in German, you’re teaching adults. Adults want full integration. I am put in a room with 3-7 adults. Most are older than me, and come from all over Europe and beyond. 2/3rds are of German descent, and 1/3rd encompasses people usually from¬†other countries near by. Turkey. Russia. Bolvaria. A beautiful kaleidoscope of accents and pronunciations.

A Russian woman with puffed up lips and a bedazzled dress robustly says, “YOU GO TO THE MOVIES?”, interviewing her partner. A 50-something German man with a round pot belly and half moon glasses at the end of his nose replies, “Yes, I’m going to see an action film starring Arnold Shwarzenneger.”

It’s nearing afternoon. I have a company class outside of Hamburg city proper, maybe 30 minutes if I’m lucky, 50 minutes if I’m not. Again, I need to give myself ample time to not get lost. I also need to eat something, desperately. The sliced lunch meats I grew accustomed to in the states taste different here and I can’t stomach them. I’m often at Dat Backhus, a chain bakery with assorted sandwiches and unknown desserts, which I partake in more often than not.

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“Spreken zie English?”

Over and over I ask. Do you speak English? 82% of the time it’s a yes, particularly with the younger crowd, but less common with the older crowd. This time it’s a no. I enthusiastically point at a fresh looking mozzarella sandwich with sliced tomatoes. I then smile and nod at a white chocolate chip cookie. They love white chocolate here. Coffee (or Kaffee) is the same word, and is much needed. Standing in front of a crowd of students, presenting yourself and your persona over and over again is exhausting.

The company class has 2 out of 5 people absent. One is at a meeting, another is on holiday. British English is more common here, and I find myself saying “holiday” instead of vacation and “colleague” instead of co-worker more and more often. I give them a spiel about Donald Trump.

“The number one question people ask me is:¬†why do Americans like Donald Trump?”

Which is true. Germans are seemingly fascinated with a character such as Trump. Because they are B2 level (not beginners, not fluent, yet) I hand them a fairly engaging article about the reasoning behind why certain groups of people support the Republican candidate. They seem interested, and a discussion ensues.

It’s already late afternoon. My phone is running low on data (Monthly, pre-paid plans can do that to you, especially if you’re continuously lost.), and I have to try and find the bus that will take me back to the subway. Confusion sets in, and I just start walking towards the general direction of the Hochbahn station. It’s a mile in a half away. The app that tells you what bus to take but does not tell you how to get to said bus. Thank God for comfortable clogs I bought before leaving for Germany. Comfort of standing on your feet all day out trumps fashion.

I get home and the sun is thinking about calling it a night. She’s looking at me through hazy clouds, squinting¬†and rubbing her eyes. I feel the same. She pulls the covers over her head and a sudden downpour showers the streets. I forgot my umbrella.

When I finally get to my apartment (or is it flat?), my roommate, a 50-something glamourous woman is home, chatting with someone in German on the phone. It’s only 6:30, but I’m slipping into my pajamas, and disappointed I didn’t pick up something for dinner too. The European championships are on (soccer, or is it football?), and she is squealing at the TV. Germany is known for their exceptional soccer team.

She is a friendly woman, though perturbed that a late-20s girl isn’t out drinking with her friends, discovering the night life, or doing something more proactive than watching another series on Netflix. She seemingly, at 25+years my senior, has infinite more energy than I do. Walking around in her underwear, animatedly chatting on the phone, curlers in her hair. She and I have had many conversations in her underwear now,¬†and my American sensibilities have been constantly questioned.

Though I have lived alone for 7 years or so, it is seemingly impossible to get your own flat once you first move to Germany. The paperwork is neverending, and I found myself using an American Idiom more than once.

“What came first: the chicken or the egg?”

One cannot get a job without two letters of intent from prospective companies, that you have to meet in person. One cannot get a flat without a residence permit that can easily take 2-3 months to get. One cannot get a bank account without a place to live. Everything hinges on something else, and often I find myself asking, how did I get here? Where am I going? Will this ever end?

And then, gradually, it does.

The paperwork gets sorted. The clouds start to part. And the sun starts to set over Hamburg in an egg yolk yellow hue.

Tomorrow is a new day, and I have to plan on how to teach Present Perfect Continuous.

 

 

 

A Day in the Life of an English Teacher in Hamburg

An Introvert in Germany

FIRST AND FOREMOST, I would like to tell you what an introvert is. Over the years, people label themselves this¬†as a convenient way of saying they are deep or insightful (just don’t.) Or¬†people use it as a¬†negative tool for calling someone anti-social and nerdy.

Who WOULDN’T WANT TO BE THE LIFE OF THE PARTY, sorry I didn’t mean to scream.

Anyway, here’s the best definition I found from UrbanDictionary.com:

“Opposite of extrovert. A person who is energized by spending time alone. Often found in their homes, libraries, quiet parks that not many people know about, or other secluded places, introverts like to think and be alone.

Contrary to popular belief, not all introverts are shy. Some may have great social lives and love talking to their friends but just need some time to be alone to “recharge” afterwards. The word “Introvert” has negative connotations that need to be destroyed. Introverts are simply misunderstood because the majority of the population consists of extroverts.

Extrovert: Oh my god, you’re so shy! You need to get out more!
Introvert: But it’s so draining – I don’t have a problem with going out; I just want to stay at home and read sometimes, y’know?Jesse is an introvert. He doesn’t mind staying home on a Friday night.”

This was written in the ancient times of 2007 and still rings true today.
I love people. I love talking to them, getting to know their horrible secrets, unfairly diagnosing them from my psychology degree, eating so much brunch, etc. But frankly? Once I’m done hanging out, this happens.
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(fun fact, I sent this picture to my bosses the other day after being 45 minutes late because I got horribly lost!!)
People are lovely, but exhausting. I like ripping off my pants and taking a nap, every single time.
So during my time in Hamburg, I have been 100% exhausted 100% of the time. Not only am I constantly exposed to new people, but walking outside my door I am always getting lost.
I am also¬†repeatedly having to ask people if they speak English. And though most people do, there is a distinct language barrier from sometimes truly connecting and understanding. You say tomato, I say to-mah-to! By the time the weekend comes, I’m sleeping for 10 hours straight and eating my recently found Oreo cookies in bed.

Another Strange Development:

Being an introvert usually means I do not succumb to the normal “trying to fit in” schemes that happen in society. Not because I don’t want to, because I’m just too tired and lazy. How can I be cool when I’m trying to watch Lady Dynamite on Netflix?

I have never been fashion forward, never liked to party, and certainly don’t like to shop. But here’s a fun fact!!!

Hamburg people love wearing stripes. These are pictures from real Hamburg People, wearing real Stripes. (not really, this is a lie)

I don’t know if it’s because of the proximity to the harbot¬†that they want to wear some sort of sailor-jail like stripe fashions, but it is abundantly clear in every shopping center there are multiple choices of striped clothing.
Yesterday, I opened my closet and found these.
Some how THREE striped shirts manifested themselves out of nowhere. As if living in Hamburg long enough metamorphosed a Hamburg looking Sarah. I decided to pair these blouses with my new European old lady sandals and 2 dark circles under my eyes from lack of sleep.
I’ll be honest and say I don’t know where this journey will take me. I’m still¬†unsure about the paperwork situation, unsure about my abilities to navigate myself successfully¬†throughout this city, and really unsure of how to¬†maintain balance as an introvert¬†in a job that is very fun but¬†totally exhausting.
Better luck next time!
Sarah
An Introvert in Germany

Some People are Graceful and Others are Not

Growing up, I used to read National Geographic like it was a message from God. These were undiscovered worlds at my fingertips in Technicolor glossy pages. Once in a while, there would be a picture of the photographer or journalist, wearing khaki shorts or some such nonsense, and usually over looking the horizon. These people were adventurers. They were stony eyed and wild haired and had a look of determination that few people really can encapsulate.

(all images from natgeo)

Anyway, my point is, I’m not one of those people.

It took me two weeks to get over the fatigue of flying here. That’s two weeks of sleeping, slogging around, befuddlement, and an overwhelming feeling of not quite sure if I was dreaming or if this was reality. I was glad I remembered wearing pants during this time. I really had no idea where I was or what I was doing.

Once that was done? I got sick. Luckily, not FLU sick, but scratchy throat, eyes, sneezing, coughing, blah blah blah. Naturally, I had to go to a government office and wait six hours in a crowd of people as every hole in my face was leaking. Gross! Sorry!

And after that? Yesterday, I tripped and sprained my ankle. To add insult to injury, my face INSTANTANIOUSLY produced two giant red cold sores. Because, why not? I mean, this city only has approximately one trillion staircases and I only have to teach in front of a bunch of adults merely feet away from my face! WHY NOT.

So, no, some people are not meant to do some rough-terrain-snake-eating-majestic-looking adventuring. Some of us aren’t meant to be constantly photogenic, or always have something profound up their sleeves.

Some people have an¬†incredibly¬†hard time functioning in a place that is actually just a bizarro version of the city she just came from. We all can’t be graceful, alright? Please just love me anyway.

IN OTHER NEWS:

Today is my one month anniversary! I made it one month! (barely!) to celebrate, people threw me a giant festival.

AWH SHUCKS GUYS YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE IT’S NOT THAT BIG OF DEAL.

Just kidding, this was the Hamburg Port Birthday festival! 827 years young! They had giant boats, crazy fried foods and a surprisingly large amount of healthy foods, a cigarette stand…

Lazy robots, magical robots!!!…

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Some sort of bizarre dance troupe in spandex (the best part of this was that all of the people were just staring at them blankly and not moving as they were dancing their little hearts out)

And me enjoying a nonalcoholic beverage.

IN OTHER, OTHER NEWS:

I have finally moved out of my Airbnb into another temporary living situation in a new neighborhood. I have only slept here one night, but so far the grocery store a block from my house has fresh squeezed orange juice (YOU WATCH IT GET SQUEEZED IN A MACHINE) so I really can’t complain yet.

Much love, I promise I’ll be more optimistic next time!

Sarah

 

Some People are Graceful and Others are Not

Ents, Obedient Dogs, and Dads with Strollers

Hello my beautiful spring time friends!

I was going to write a long,¬†whiny tale about getting my work permit, but ALAS, it hasn’t happened yet. I’m quickly learning that I need to not make the assumption that I’ll know what I’ll talk about next week because who knows what will happen in five minutes in this unchartered, highly populated¬†territory.

So, this week I’m going to dive into more acute observations about our German brethren.

When I was at the subway stop (yes, I’ve somewhat mastered the subway system, which is such an achievement on its own I can’t even begin to describe the elation I feel in my heart. Here’s a picture below for your overwhelming enjoyment.)

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AMERICAN GENES?

ANYWAYZ, when one is at the subway stop, you get to people watch like never before. Remember, people openly and unabashedly stare directly at you here, so you get to do the same. It’s a little startling at how quickly I became accustomed to being creepy! Over time, I’ve started thinking creepy things like, “Oh, she has an American mouth.”

I would have never had guessed that someone could have an American mouth, but there it is. Even though people are REALLY white here, it’s a German white, a European white if you will, and there’s a difference. Who knew!

MAJESTIC TALL PEOPLE

Another interesting note, and it’s actually wonderfully poetic, is that people are tall here. I am a¬†5’8″ chubby gal¬†respectively, and I was always taller than most of my female friends, and frankly taller than half of my OKcupid dates. Here, I’m on the short end of the spectrum. For the most part, everyone is 5’8″ and above, and probably average around 6 feet tall. Long and lean. The majority of people here in Hamburg, at least under the age of 50, have bodies of athletes and models. INTIMIDATING.

But the BEST¬†part… is that every so often, you see someone a foot taller than the rest. When everyone else is 6 feet, there is a 7 foot tall person (men and women)¬†parting their way through the crowd. They walk differently. They move slower. Their heads are slightly elongated. I asked my interesting and captivating Airbnb host, and she mentioned that Germans have deep roots¬†from the old growth forests here. That some of them have tree-blood. I’m no scientist, but it checks out!

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I want to believe.

GERMAN DOGS

Okay, so, I have a long history with dogs. Who can forget the time one bit me on my left buttock when I was 8? Or when dad would bring home these mangy mutts from the golf course? And, rain or shine, dogs from anyone and everyone in America would jump up on me like a moth to the flame.

BUT IN GERMANY? SIMPLY NOT SO.

First of all, dogs 9 times out of 10 aren’t on leashes. They walk ahead of their owners with equal parts confidence and obedience written all over their faces. Like their owners, they STARE, but they do not even THINK about getting in my space. These are the most polite, well behaved dogs I’ve ever seen. In fact, here’s a picture of a dog on a leash because of the sheer novelty of it.

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This brings me to my second observation about these dogs… a lot of them are DIFFERENT looking. I obviously have heard of German Shepards…but there are these wire-haired dogs of all different kinds here. Scrappy, well-behaved, diligent creatures! It’s baffling!

I want to pet a dog already but the dogs don’t want to be pet!

BABIES

Babies are abundant here. Maybe it’s because it’s spring, maybe it’s because people love walking here. I couldn’t say. The thing I could say is that I have seen tons of dads with strollers. Here’s a creepy picture I took of not one, but TWO dads with strollers walking down the street.

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It’s nice to see! I also heard that people get approximately three years of maternity leave here? THINK ABOUT THAT, AMERICA.

Also, people leave babies everywhere. Trying to get your pants tailored? Leave your baby outside. Want a quick beer before heading off? Leave your baby outside. We are not in Kansas anymore.

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Anyways, here’s an abundance of photos that I could not get around to writing about. Things from swan boats, strange squirrels, my bread baby and more.

Maybe next time I’ll have my work permit! Haaaaa!

Sarah

Ents, Obedient Dogs, and Dads with Strollers

Dazed, Confused, Bewildered, Amazed

Dear friends!

This past week I have been finding scraps of time to take observational notes, but for the most part I’ve been so fatigued and confused I genuinely don’t know if it’s settled in yet that I’m trying to make a life for myself in a new country. That being said, I’d like to talk about my first impressions of Hamburg, Germany. I think they will change…or I will change… because already the shock my system went through¬†is settling down to a steady hum.

I’m determined! I’m forever confused by the government hoops I have to jump through to get my work visa! But, I’ll save that for another blog.

Observation #1: Staring

People love to stare here. As soon as I entered into this city… the taxi driver, the people on the subway, the old men, the babies in their carriages… these people love to stare. Now, the American in me of course instinctually smiles when someone is staring (minus creepy people) but here, they just stare with no noticeable expression difference. It becomes unnerving. Overwhelming. The eyes of people that you cannot communicate well with are staring you down always 3-5 seconds too long and you have no choice but to stare back or turn away.

Here’s a series of stock images from¬†Google¬†so you can get a glimpse of what it feels like to be stared at relentlessly.

(I picked mostly white people because this city is in fact… filled with a lot of white people)

The Optimist In Me: This means of course, you can openly people watch. Which is in my top ten favorite activities.

Observation #2: Food

Everything looks and tastes slightly better. Brighter, even?¬†I don’t know why. It could just be me, but I talked to my Airbnb host /hopefully new best friend ūüėČ ¬†and she mentioned that Germany has strict government regulations on how chickens are raised and eggs and stuff. I can’t argue with her, the egg yolks here are a bright sunset orange compared to the yellow we’re used to in the states.

This picture also comes from the internet to show you the difference. There’s lots of “controversy” about what the color means, but I’ve been eating orange eggs and can taste the difference.

8uItMFZ

On a broader scope of the food situation. I just… I have been eating SO MUCH. There are really some attractive people here, tall, lean, European, aloof and graceful, and it’s been causing me to just eat on behalf of everyone. Eat and drink and eat. OH MAN, THE BREAD. THE BREAD DESERVES ITS OWN POST, But the strange thing is… I don’t feel bloated. I’m losing weight and yet eating more? I’m not a scientist, but my tight jeans are becoming looser as I stuff my face with croissants. Here’s a series of pictures of my food adventures thus far.

 

Buffets, giant bowls of Kaffee und Milch, best quiche I’ve ever had, weird veggies, nine pm gelato, stuffed seafood potatoes and so much more! Needless to say, I won’t go hungry. B-)

Observation #3: Quiet Charms

I think the most important part, through my haze of trying to live here, are the small moments of kindness and magic that I can STILL somehow see, even though I’m in this weird hibernation mode. The harshness of the staring paired with still nippy weather has caused me to feel a little unhinged, but through this unsettled feeling, I have still noticed some extreme kindness.

10 out of 10 times I have noticed people offering people with baby carriages or luggage to help them carry it up or down the stairs.

There are several Lake Alster swans that are lovely and forever startling. These birds are HUGE and magnificent.

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Tiny houses and tiny boat racing!

And so many undiscovered museums I can’t wait to get my eyeballs on.

For now, I feel like I made the right decision. It’s a honest-to-God challenge beyond my wildest dreams… in some ways it feels like you’re a child again. How do you make copies on a copy machine when everything is in another language? But I’m surviving. Not thriving yet, but surviving and that’s good enough.

Still getting my bearings,

Sarah

Next Week: Navigating the System: The Art of Getting a Work Permit

Dazed, Confused, Bewildered, Amazed

The Pressure Is Too Much

Starting a blog is always so easy for me. I have approximately 10 Tumblrs, a scary amount of LiveJournals and Myspace diary entries floating around the internet, three wordpresses, and how can any self-respecting millennial forget Xanga? I never did much with any of them though. I never watered or played with them, or put on Baby Mozart to help them grow smart.

It is as if the tide rolls in with all of these exciting new ideas, and then it rolls out again. I had such high hopes for every single one of those baby¬†blogs. Thank God this didn’t translate to real children. I would have literally 23 children and they would all have to fend for themselves.

But like every new baby, being birthed from my brain ovaries (what?), I hope for the best. This one is fully, 100% dedicated to my trials and tribulations of getting over to Hamburg, Germany. Not just getting there, but once getting there figuring out how to STAY there.

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(Image from travel-to-Hamburg.com, DUDE I’m trying already)

Right now I’m a jobless, single, forever-chubby lady of Seattle, WA. After graduating school (late, I’m 29), I decided to be extremely proactive and apply for a bunch of stuff. Let’s look at the series of rejection letters of just this past week alone, shall we?

Ohhhhh, 4 in one week! I feel like the luckiest girl in the WORLD.

With me so far? Great. Get out a piece of paper, this next part requires some math.

So, let’s say I apply for a bunch of jobs per week for the past three months. And each week I get 2-4 rejection letters. Add one failed OKcupid date per week. Stir it in a simmering pot of depression, anxiety, and despair. Add 20 pounds of comfort pastries. This equals a cesspool of discontentment so overwhelming that crying became an Olympic sport for me.¬†I¬†should have added this skill set to my resume. Cry over a group of mothers chatting about babies? Check. Cry over an apple fritter? Check. ¬†Cry over a blank wall? You bet! I’m your gal!

So, why Hamburg, Germany? The biggest and most honest reason is that a lady from my high school is paving her way through Hamburg as we speak, teaching English to adults.

After absolutely no consideration at all, I asked her, “GIRL. ON A SCALE OF 1-10 HOW MUCH WILL YOU HELP ME GET TO HAMBURG PLEASE HELP I THINK I’M DYING”, I waited with baited breath. If she said at least a 7, I’m jumping into this. She said 14. Hallelujah!

So, I bought an one way ticket, am actively getting rid of 95% of my things I’ve accumulated over my time in Seattle, writing heartfelt goodbye letters to the people who have come to put up with me over the years, and finally deactivated my OKcupid account with no intention of reactivating it 3-5 days later.

I also applied to a massive amount of English teaching schools in Hamburg, determined that I will not be phased by such rejections I’ve been experiencing in the past.

BUT DUDES, I didn’t have to. I have 8 interviews scheduled as soon as I get into Hamburg. WHY HOW WHO WHAT ME HOW WHAY WHA WAAAAA.

Dudes, I have never owned a blazer before. I better consult my personal styling assistant. Just kidding, I’m still jobless and poor. Good one, Sarah, thanks Sarah.

And sure, they may take one look at my pastry-filled husky frame and reject me (Those Europeans are really posh) but the fact that I get to attempt my charms in person, versus these bland rejection letters before meeting is enough to make me optimistic.

Hamburg, here I come already.

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Fondly,

Sarah

NEXT WEEK: Road Trip to My Mothers House To Drop Off My Junk

 

The Pressure Is Too Much