Reue kostet nichts

As of today, I've had my last day at the archives. ("Have you brought a sheet to catch all the tears?" asked Herr H., and I very nearly did cry, everyone was so kind.) I've not announced my change of residence, though this is a legal prerequisite for moving away. The offices responsible for that are currently closed, due to unforeseen personnel changes, whatever those may be. A round of visits and calls sorted this. "I can never remember whether you have to announce yourself entering Germany or leaving it," said the woman at the offices, indicating the frequency of such moves in Bischofsheim. She also put me on to the official at the town hall who said cheerfully: "Why don't you just fax it after returning to the States? It's a long way away, of course, but faxes should reach us just the same." As of today, I've officially handed over my duties as choir treasurer, and have officially exmatriculated at the university. I've returned all my library books, and paid off all my overdue fees.

Breaking routines

"Where were you?" asked Herr H., my avuncular companion in archival work, in a pseudo-monitory stage whisper over our respective tomes. I laughed, unrepentant, and explained that I'd been in Oxford. "How nice!" said Herr H., "normally you never treat yourself." I added in more sober tones that my sojourn had been for an academic conference, primarily… but the joy in my first reply told the essential truth: Oxford is always a paradise to me, even and perhaps especially when it's providing me with academic work to do. I came home with two secondhand mystery novels, a new book of poems, two kinds of tea, and sweet memories from visits: dinner with a Fordham colleague in London; tea with a friend from study-abroad days; and two days spent in the dear company of another friend, picnicking, visiting a museum, cooking with Jobim and Sinatra on the stereo, and even punting. And I met other scholars of medieval medical history at the conference, had conversations about the frustrations and joys of Latin, exchanged article references and contact info with fellow graduate students, and got encouraging comments both on my paper and my dissertation project. And all in a city that looks like this…

Routines

It occurs to me that I've posted relatively little, in my almost-concluded time here, about the days which are relatively normal. Partly, this is because these are the days I don't take time to photograph. Mostly, though, it's because I spend much of my days inside the archive, where I have lovely chats, share mild academic humor, and look through vast quantities of medieval documents, the transcriptions of no-longer-extant medieval documents by 18th- and 19th-century antiquarians, and various obscure modern publications. It's not terribly photogenic, though it's often enjoyable. But here is one of my favorite everyday views: my bike parked in front of the 1912 building housing the archives and city library: