Gut angekommen

Frankfurt Flughafen, early morning

An irrefutable debunking of German's mythical status as a harsh language comes, I think, in the humane courtesy of a few of its everyday idioms. "Have you arrived well?" "Have you rested delightfully?" The German language even recognizes that one must recover oneself after a flight. I feel I owe it to Lufthansa, though, to observe that they provided two opera radio channels and a film featuring Jeremy Irons and Martina Gedeck. It was an easy enough matter to get the train from Frankfurt to Mainz-Kastel; taking the bus once there involved more of an observer's tour of the city than I'd planned. Hopefully this will stand me in good stead as I continue to learn my way around (or "live myself well into the city," in the more comprehensive German phrase.) Phase one of this process will come in navigating various apartment-visits as I try to find a place to stay. And no, I didn't just move to Mainz without making arrangements.

Two days before my flight, I had an apartment ready to move into, and to share with an archaeologist of my own age and her cat. On the eve of my departure, I learned from the apologetic and piqued archaeologist that this arrangement had been vetoed by the landlady, who was reclaiming the entire apartment for her own use. I decided to drop off Fulbright paperwork at the university before beginning a round of phone calls, and thus came under the aegis of an avuncular man in the international students' office. He took my paperwork, gave me a Stadtplan, and then, apparently concerned as to my fate, put me into the hands of a younger colleague, who sympathized, told me such things were typical in Mainz (one characteristic local experience I could have done without!) and called a woman who was letting rooms to tell her that the situation had changed, and the university did indeed know of someone who would be interested. The long and indirect way I took to find this woman's house involved much tramping through wooded areas on narrow footpaths. The last one of these was Krähenweg, which inevitably evoked Schubert for me. Now, however, here I am: in a clean, white room with a Picasso print on the wall. I'm still looking for apartments, but a place to sleep, wash, cook, and send e-mails from is a great blessing. (Well, I can't cook until the electrician hooks up the stove and fridge, but there's an electric kettle for tea. Priorities!) I've already gone grocery shopping, and experienced the rush of obtaining a pound of Mehrkornbrot for 50 cents. Next up: exploring Mainz. The fact that my landlady identified the cathedral and the theater as central landmarks is, I feel, a good sign.