A letter to a friend

The following is a letter to a friend that came out of a dialog we had a while back. I hope it's worth your while too, I figured I could at least share it.

So I’ll try to write my thoughts out as succinctly as I can. We all know how well that usually turns out.

Basically what I was hearing in our conversation were similar things that I’ve thought and struggled with in the past, and some I still do. I think the key is to go back to what God intends and then to contrast that with what we believe to see where the lies we believe lie (so to speak). Believing, of course, being inherently different than simply knowing by the fact that our beliefs shape our actions and feelings in ways that what we simply know never could.

Like I said, God created Adam perfect, but created him with one apparent ‘flaw’ which was loneliness. Adam searched throughout creation and didn’t find a suitable companion, and so God made him one. Thus loneliness isn’t bad at all, it’s the one area of our lives where we lack but do not sin in the lacking. So to desire a husband is far from wrong, it’s how God created you to be. It not only drives you towards a husband, but more importantly drives you to seek the company of the Trinity.

Secondly, the idea that you can somehow find the right husband by sticking your head in the sand really doesn’t make much sense when you think about it. I agree that we need to be searching after God first and foremost, and that He should always take precedence over everything; even a spouse. The way it was put to me once was to chase after God as hard as you could, and as you were doing so to look around and see who was running with you. That was how they said to find your spouse, to see who was chasing after God as hard as you were.

But you’ve gotta take the time to look around. God created you to do so, the desire is there. To deny it in some attempt at holiness is foolish. I often do this while staring obstinately at God, when He’s telling me to look around and it ends up quite self-defeating. My friend Dave said that if you want to find a rose, you’ve got to look in a rose garden; meaning that if you want better odds at finding the right spouse you need to go where they’re more likely to be. Like church, or your local butcher’s shop (you wouldn’t believe how cute the girls there are). But the key is that you go, you look, and you see what God has for you.

That’s part of the preparatory part as well, I think; the process of becoming a better spouse for whomever we’re meant to marry (if you believe in ‘the one’). We’re refined by the stress and hardship generated as we approach people and are accepted or rejected. We learn that people’s ideas of us can’t be what we base our self worth on, because if it is then our value will never be very high. That we can’t seek them out for consistency and real joy; that happiness gained from relationships is real and good but subject to sudden change.

I think that the process of falling in love and having our hearts broken, though unadvisable in one sense, is also very good in another. We learn that way that only God will satisfy and be the lover of our souls. I was kind of shocked by the idea actually when Dr. Eckman (very closely linked to Crusade) asked us at Project in San Diego whether or not we’d fallen in love. Of course none of us being engaged we were a bit awkward and sort of offered up the “we haven’t found the one” answer. He was shocked by our response and asked what was wrong with us? Falling in love was great and a beautiful part of life!

Besides, falling in love lands on an entirely different plane than even the best of friendships. I’m a proponent of saving your heart as best as you can for marriage, obviously, but like I said as well: even when you’re headed towards marriage it’s no certain thing until the deal is done. You can’t remain emotionally, spiritually, and even physically detached until your wedding day! You won’t know who you’re marrying!

By the time you get married you’re already headed down a path that only leads deeper if taken with the Lord at the helm. You can’t avoid getting hurt in the process, and you can’t know if this is the one or not until the rings are on and the licenses signed. Well, that’s not entirely true, you can know before then but like I said, engagement is merely a formality on the way to marriage. Love requires risk.

God took huge risks on us from the beginning, from allowing us to make choices to giving us the option of accepting His Son’s sacrifice for us on the cross. Especially since He knew that many of us would reject Him. We’re afraid of the possibility of getting rejected. God knew He would be rejected, but He chose to love anyways. Love requires that you put yourself out there and allow the other person to make their decision to accept or reject you without manipulation. You can’t control them, you can’t control all of the situations; you have to do your best to guard your heart and still take a plunge.

But the question remains, how do you guard your heart? I think this is another area where misnomers reign. First of all, guarding your heart doesn’t mean burying it and sitting on it, as I think we often do. Lord knows I’ve spent plenty of time with my own heart as deep as I could put it in the rockiest ground I could find. The problem was that I never really did that good of a job guarding it like that. Some pretty girl would come along and I’d kind of scratch the surface, ready to dig my heart out as soon as it was time.

The problem is that we’re no good at guarding anything, let alone our hearts. We don’t really know the proper times to hold it back or to give a little away. The trick, I believe, is to let go of your heart and give it to God entirely. Let Him hold onto it, and let Him give it to your meant-to-be. I know that this sounds cryptic, and in the same way we tend to place it in our early goals as Christians; at least it’s in our list of intentions whether or not we really understand what we’re saying. But as for me, I don’t think I really believed this was the best way for a long time.

I may have agreed with anyone who said it, and may have in fact known it to be true. They might say “you need to put your trust in God” or “you need to give God your heart” but it meant little to nothing to me most of the time. I’d nod and go ‘mmm hmmm’ in agreement, but I didn’t really believe so far as my actions were concerned. I still took matters into my own hands, starting and stopping relationships where I thought was necessary and putting my own boundaries on things. All the while I maintained control; I did and said what I thought I should when I thought I should, and the results were more often than not disastrous.

Ultimately we need to be willing to trust the Lord and to listen to Him in these things. It’s what we really want anyways, and it frees us to have fun and make friends. If you can only find your value in what God thinks of you you’ll be so free. You can be free to be who God made you to be and not worry about whether or not people like you. Why would you when you realize that the God of the Universe loves you enough to have sent his son to die on a cross for you?

That’s the ultimate acceptance. Often we think that if we could only gain acceptance by some person we look up to, or someone we’re attracted to, then we’ll really have value. For example, when I left home and wound up at New Community I wasn’t used to being in a church where the pastor was so hard to get to. He strives to be accessible, but having such a large church with so many people vying for his attention he can’t be everywhere at once. I grew up a pastor’s kid for Pete’s sake! It was easy to get his ear, but Rob? Not so much. The man is a bit busier, and I don’t have the sonship to fall back on when I want time with him.

So what did I do my freshman year of college? Did I say “well, God has created me to be who I am and has accepted me as I am. I am loved, accepted, doted on, relished, and taught by God Himself. Even if Rob doesn’t know my name what does that matter to me? He’s just some dude and can’t even compare to the greatness of God.”?

No. I said “What the hell is this guy’s problem? Doesn’t he know how awesome I am? I’ll show him!” And so began a long, pointless attempt to gain Rob’s affection. Why pointless? Not because I don’t relish Rob’s affection, he’s good at snuggling. No, because Rob’s affection falls short and proves insufficient as often as it proves sufficient. He’s not unique in this, all people fail and fall short of our expectations (unless we lower our expectations to the point that they simply can’t fail because it’s physically impossible).

I had to find myself in God; my value in the church body didn’t rely on recognition from a pastor but on recognition from God Himself. Talk about swinging things out of proportion! But somehow we do this with spouses and potential spouses as well.

But God really is the coolest, most beautiful, most accomplished, most loving, caring, bad ass guy around (if you don’t believe me about being bad ass, read Revelations, He has a sword shooting out of his MOUTH). If we truly saw Him as He was and then saw that He accepted us not just into His clique, but into His family we would truly be changed. We wouldn’t care that Billy Joe didn’t think that we were cool or that Suzie Cue didn’t laugh at our jokes. So what? I’m loved and accepted by God. Let them ridicule me, they don’t know jack.

And so I think that instead of focusing on what you shouldn’t do, like date some guy, you should focus on what you should do, like lose yourself in Christ. Just let yourself go and fall in love with Him. You won’t regret it. Do this by finding out who He really is, and what He’s done for you (stuff you already know but need to place in your heart). And then one day some guy will ask you on a date and for some reason you’ll think “yeah, sounds nice.” And it might lead to marriage, it might not, but your heart will be Jesus’ and you’ll be able to have a fun time and learn a lot without getting hurt as much in the process.

And then, someday, you’ll think to yourself “I’d rather not live life without this person. In fact, to do so would be stupid.” And he’ll think the same thing since he’s chasing God, and Jesus will allow you to share each others’ hearts a little bit now, and a little more later, and then you’ll get married, and you’ll share some more. But your heart will always belong to Jesus, because He deserves it. And He’s a much better steward of it than you or I.

And then, when your perfect little hubby hurts you badly, you’ll remember that God loves you so much, and through that you’ll be able to forgive him, and he’ll be most appreciative. And then when you hurt him and are scared that he’ll never want you back, you’ll experience the same grace that only someone whose heart belongs to God can give. Because of that power, you’ll succeed in marriage and push forward forever into God together. In fact, if you can find your identity in Christ, you’ll find the whole of life to be infinitely easier. That’s a free life; that’s the abundant life we’ve been promised. Claim it.

We drink the cheap stuff

I am Jack’s bloated sense of relaxation. I must say that the trips I’ve been taking have been nice. Swinging through Switzerland to visit Bavaria (Southern Germany for the stereotypical American reading this) was sweet. I have to say that the Alps are about the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, at least as you cross from Switzerland to Germany. Tall, imposing peaks surrounded by perfectly green little farms leads one to believe that a living fairy tale may have been discovered.

Anna

Spending a few days in Passau, I got to hang out with my friend Bianca and John’s fiancée Anna. This was to be a test of Anna’s worthiness to marry John, and so I put her to the test. I attempted to re-create an experience of living with John as best I could. First thing was first, I kicked her out of her apartment, demanding my own bed, laundry service, and chocolate at any hour of the night. She maintained her composure.

Bianca

I then proceeded to break her dishes so as to see her reaction. I did this subtly, one dish at a time until she had none left. Once again, surprisingly, she passed. I figured that I should come up with something more devious, something only John Dalbey would conceive of doing. What better than to eat all of her food, poop on her table and light her hair on fire within a total of 9 minutes and 32 seconds? Even John has a hard time beating his original record of 9:38.

She simply restocked the fridge, cleaned up the poop and grabbed a wig from a rack in her closet (apparently John had done this enough to prepare her thoroughly). My tests complete, I was forced to admit that she was worthy of marrying John.

In all honesty, she is a rad girl and was more than accommodating the whole time I was there. She even let me wear her coat at one point, and my friend Amber stay the night, and was a constant companion. She asks good questions too, which is perfect because John likes to hear himself talk. As do I. As do I…

Amber and I checked out Passau, met up with friends from Eastern (yes, people do leave Cheney occasionally) including my buddy Dan from German classes and Barbara, a German student who lived in Cheney last year. I also discovered that Barbara's new apartment is in the exact same part, nay, exact same street, nay! Exact same building that I stayed in the last time I was in Passau. The odds? We were clearly surprised (though by the time the photo got taken genuine surprise was replaced by cheesy "wow" looks).

wow!

We then went to Austria, walked through Ingling, and found a table covered in apples with a box that said “Take a bag and leave a Euro” (in German). We did, and did, and had a bag of apples to show for it. We then hit the train for Lausanne, Switzerland.

Austrian signs are always cooler

And Austrian apfels are tasty even if tiny.

13 hours, 5 trains (one of which was absurdly late) later we found ourselves in the international capital of the Olympics. Or the Olympic Capital of the World. Or the World Capital of the Olympic Games. Or something along those lines.

The Swiss know how to do croissants - with chocolate!

If my expression doesn't say it all then you need to just eat one and see what wonders await.

Without much time to kill we strolled down to lake Geneva and checked out the Olympic Museum before parting ways. I headed home to Nice, and after a total of 29 hours of travel arrived back in Nice at 11PM, ready to crash and stay crashed for some time.

Swiss boat? Complete with bottle opener.

He jumped over my hand? WTF?!

A week went by, I taught, had fun. I’ve been teaching my kids about Thanksgiving using a little tool I like to call “Thanksgiving Jeopardy.” I have a few favorite questions, not least of which is “This is how many legs a turkey has.”

But I think my true favorite is “True or False: Americans eat too much on Thanksgiving.” To which the first team to raise their hands inevitably and gleefully says “True!” (or sometimes “Yes!” And occasionally “Aaagh!”). To which I inevitably and gleefully say “FALSE! You can never eat too much on Thanksgiving!” Oh the French, they have so much to learn.

Then this weekend Kate, Jenny, Nathalie, my roommate Noah and I went up into the Alps to hang out in some little mountain villages. The road up was narrow and winding, and I’m not one to get car sick that often. Not that it was that bad I suppose; once I fell asleep I was golden. We stayed at St. Martin Vésoubie, Vésoubie being the name of the valley. Need I say it was beautiful? Nay, I need not.

We took photos of St. Martin late the first night, and I came away with some decent shots.

The next morning I found myself alone in the cabin, and thus decided to hike up the mountain to Venanson, another old village, but way up on the cliffs.

It took a while, especially since the trail eluded me. Thus, in one of those moments you don’t tell your mom about until after you’ve completed your trek, I used the long, winding, shoulderless road all the way to the top. I only almost got hit by cars twice… honest.

Having reached the top I chilled, took photos, read my Bible while overlooking a gorgeous valley, and waited for my friends to catch up using their silly car. We had sandwiches, laughed, and then went home.

And by home I mean Nathalie and I walked home to discover that Noah and gang had not gone home in the car, with the keys to the cabin. So we kept walking to St. Martin, found them, walked around and then drove home. That night we went back to St. Martin with Sebastian, as he had finally arrived by bus, and took more night shots.

Unfortunately Nathalie got sick, which ended things a bit early. We got her home, tucked away, and then packed up ourselves. The next day we drove home, Noah at the wheel, and thankfully didn’t die as we were overly packed in and had only one or two close calls… honest.

Um... I'm on break

I know I have to write a blog about traveling through Germany, Austria, and Switzerland, but I have a lot on my mind. To say that the situations facing me are convoluted would be kind of an understatement, my future hangs in the balance and there's a lot going on. I feel like things are far too profound right now, every thought and feeling swaying me one way or the other.

And yet, at the core of who I am I remain calm. My emotions peak and plummet, racing to the heights of happiness only to be forced to halt by changing circumstances. Whatever I'm going through, it's weird and difficult, but revealing.

I'm not as strong, self-assured, or manageable as I might have thought. If God were to leave me, to remove His strong yet gracious hand, I'd be in serious trouble. And thank God that He won't, despite my irrational fears that He may. I'm being challenged in ways I thought I was untouchable, my determination, passion, and security in God all shown for the weak shadows that they are. Shadows of something they were meant to be, of a difference that Jesus made up for me.

And so now I feel vulnerable, weak, and alone. Not because I am alone, but because what I lack is being revealed to me in areas I thought I was sufficient; even if I would never have admitted such thoughts to myself. And now I sit, staring at these shadows cast in front of me, witnessing a corrosion of my pride, my self-reliance, my capability, and know that it's the best thing that could happen to me now.

It's an answer to prayer too, as the pattern of my life would have it. Often God answers such prayers in ways unexpected, and right now humility is being dished out from directions in which I hadn't thought to look. Oh how I revel in it, though at times the enemy uses it against me, casting guilt and doubt over all that he can.

But I won't turn back, I won't give up on my God in whom I believe all things good, true and holy are to be found. To do so would be folly, for who else can know my heart and cater to its needs? Who else can direct my path to greater heights than I have ever known?

Only the creator of the mountain can effectively guide one to the most beautiful views, and the maker of the heart catalyze the joys felt in the accomplishment of getting there. It would be foolish of me to view the hardship along the way as punishment, or as too much to bear; for he certainly knows what I can and can't handle, and He is good. He is good. So let rejoicing be found in trial!

Only the fools of the world can say such things, and it is in God's goodness that He chooses us to suffer for Him, and with Him. I will suffer, for in the greater suffering I face the better and more beautiful the end result in my life. The harder the climb, the greater the glory for God and the joy for us both. I resign myself to His loving and caring hands, to whatever ends He has intended for me, for whatever trials. For though I may cry and scream and beg and plead, God is good, and His ways are true.

To turn back now would be to fail; I do enough of that as it is. And as I finish this little message, I recognize that in a few months time I may read this with a great sense of irony, reflecting on events that I currently know nothing about. But how can I care? I must count the cost, and I must plunge ahead. My life is not my own, and I won't look back if God gives me the strength.

My life is not my own, it belongs to my God. For He is my God, and He demands all things of me. But how great the reward at the end of the trials, and how worth the pain and suffering and how worth the dying. The dying to myself, casting off all that is of the world and not of me, of what God created me to be. I must become all that Christ is, but only God can accomplish this in me. The paradoxes never end.

And neither will my suffering, not until Christ comes again to reign in His Kingdom and gives me rest. Gives me peace eternal, and joy, and freedom and excitement that I have only caught but the smallest shimmering glimpse of! What a glorious day, when my sins are finally absolved and my heart is healed! My body is glorified and my eternal tasks set upon, for then I shall finally be free to work with Jesus in ways I can only dream of now.

OH FOR THAT DAY! I can't wait, my chest quivers and my eyes water, to see Christ in His glory, I can lose myself in the image. To be captured in His loving gaze, his outstretched arms, to join with Him in all He has planned for me. To hear "well done, good and faithful servant." This is what I live for, and may it be ever present in my mind.

To Jesus be the Power, the Glory, and the Kingdom forever and ever. AMEN.

To Passau!

Prepare for a long blog, I’m gonna leave out pictures if I can help it, though maybe I’ll put them all in at the end for you if I have time. Today has been a long day, and I figure I’ll recount it along with some of my reflections as well. Yesterday was my only day of University classes all year; I went with my friend Rory to his French history class. It was fun because we all dressed up and made quite a scene (Halloween isn’t so big here). It was boring though because, well, it was boring.

I’m currently on the train between Munich and Passau (Germany), the last leg of 15 hours of travel for today. What a day it’s been too. Last night was a crazy Halloween party which didn’t end until after I had left. I didn’t get to bed until 12:30am, and wished I’d done so sooner. At 4:40am I got up, and made my way across a large park to the tram stop from which I would take the tram to the train station and catch my train at 5:58am.

Of course, it wouldn’t be one of my regular days of travel if things were as easy as all that, and naturally it turns out that today was a holiday in France. This meant that the first tram wouldn’t arrive until 6:07, 9 minutes later than my train was leaving. This left me with one option: walk.

So, not knowing Grenoble to save my life, I did. I checked the bus/tram routes on the maps at the stop, figured out the general direction, and headed off down the street. I asked a security guard if I was headed the right way and was assured by the drunk man standing next to him that I was in fact not. Thankfully the security guard called him an idiot and told me I was indeed on the correct path. I kept walking, checking on the maps at each stop to be sure that I was in fact advancing towards the station.

Finally I made it there with plenty of time to spare, and got ready to wait. It was at this time that I was approached by a beggar named Mike who asked if I spoke English. I did, and he asked if I had any coins for him. As ‘luck’ would have it, due to the trams not running, I had a Euro and thirty cents in my pocket which I figured was actually meant for him. When asked if I had just a little bit more I replied that I didn’t, and that he was lucky it was a holiday or I would have had no change at all.

We proceeded to talk for the next twenty minutes, and by “we” I really mean “he.” His accent was Irish due to his Irish mother but he assured me he was most certainly English. We talked, he told me stories of automatic tents and his friend in the hospital who he repeatedly told me he planned on visiting. “Because a friend’s a friend, and that’s what friends are for.” I couldn’t agree more, especially with the fact that he thought taking cigarettes to his friend might be a bad idea.

He planned on leaving Grenoble, though, and getting to Italy. I won’t tell you what words he used to describe Grenoble, but he didn’t seem fond of it. He bemoaned getting kicked off the train for not having a ticket, the reason for which he was in Grenoble, and I said that at least he had a jacket. Mine got left behind (for which I still think I’m an idiot). He offered me his, to which I replied that, as he had said, all he had otherwise was his T-shirt and that didn’t seem enough.

Eventually he was so determined to repay my generosity with a bit of his own that he bought me a hot chocolate. So my Euro returned to me in chocolate form, at least it won’t go towards his alcoholism, which he wasn’t shy to describe in full detail. The hand-motions and sound effects alone were worth remembering. We took some pictures together, he told me not to have sex with too many German girls (but in a slightly different way) and sent me on the way with many a pat on the back (and face) and plenty of shouted bits of advice as I walked away.

I got on the TGV, and slept. Arriving in Geneva I looked at my itinerary (scribbled on a piece of paper by the guy working the ticket counter in Grenoble) and tried to figure out where my train to Zurich would be. The nice part about the Eurail pass is that if you don’t need to reserve a seat you can just get on the train without a ticket; the downside is, I discovered, that sometimes French ticket salespeople would rather scribble out an itinerary than print it.

Thankfully I found the platform without much trouble and got on my train. As we sped away from Geneva I listened to the list of stops as they were recited by the conductor over the intercom, and realized to my increasing delight that Zurich was not in fact on the route. Checking my phone I realized that my train, which was supposed to leave at 8:46, had apparently left at 8:36. My mistake was suddenly revealed.

See, the problem is that I live in France. France, if you aren’t aware, is not renowned for its high levels of efficiency. This is because they don’t know what “efficiency” is unless you’re talking about finishing a bottle of wine or getting to the bottom of one's politics. Despite being a glaring generalization, this is generally true. The Swiss, however, are well known for their efficiency. I did not account for this unfortunately.

When I had gotten on my train, used to being able to board up to 20 minutes or more in advance, I had assumed the same would be true here. It was at my platform, it was as early as they ever are, it was going in the right direction. I hadn’t realized that the Swiss are efficient enough to run trains 10 minutes apart if they see fit, and thus I unwittingly and quite erringly stepped onto the wrong train and sped off in quite the wrong direction.

Asking the girl across from me various questions, I realized this with a growing sense of “aw crap” growing in my stomach. And so, I got up and got off that train and headed back to Geneva. This is the other benefit of my pass, I can just ride whatever train I want at no extra cost, t’is lovely.

Arriving in Geneva I found another train leaving for Zurich exactly an hour after the other one was supposed to. And thankfully, in the process, found a train going to Munich instead of Wels, Austria which cut my travel time by 2 hours and the cost by 95 Euros (which translates to around $140). I got on the train to Zurich, and sat down to read. Stealing a glance outside to lake Geneva on my right and endless vineyards on my left I decided that this was prettier country that I had seen so far.

A while into the ride a pretty girl dressed all in black with earbuds dangling around her neck came and asked if she could sit across from me. My own earbuds being in place and blasting music forced me to rely on the context of the situation, and so I motioned to the seat with a “bien sur” forgetting that I was traversing into German-speaking territory. This transition has proved difficult so far, my German is... oh how you say... rusty? But after a minute we caught each others’ eyes and, I’m not sure how exactly, began to talk. Of course we had to figure out in which language, I explained in German that my French was way better, and so we started speaking French (hers of course still outstripping mine shamelessly).

What followed was an experience unique to the Christian life. We started out on the usual subjects, who we were and where we were from, what we did and where we were going. But soon the conversation moved towards God. I think that the DeVinci Code came up, which started us talking about the need for truth, and how everyone is searching for it. Like I said, what occurred then was something that I love, we fenced with our minds.

That might sound weird, but it’s true. I would say it’s similar to when Serif fights Neo in the Matrix Reloaded (although a much less forced, and lower budget situation). Serif says that you don’t truly know someone until you fight them, and in the same way we sized each other up with our wits, seeing what each truly believed without asking outright or stating where we stood. Constantly (though with difficulty, because though my French is taking leaps and bounds I’m still lacking a lot of vocab) we approached the same plane, discussing things and refining each others’ arguments, recognizing belief for belief.

I don’t know if she viewed it the same way, but for me it was a Godsend. Over here I’ve been feeling more and more like a member of a dying breed, as though all sense has left mankind and I’m left standing in the midst of a complete lack of rationality. To sit and simply reason through life and the purposes therein with someone who had obviously thought it through, and had done so honestly, was refreshing. It was a blessing that is hard to describe without sounding weird to those of you who have no idea about what I’m talking, and corny to those of you who do.

All I know is that I saw a kindred spirit in a world filled with people opposed to our way of living, and it gave me hope. Not to say that I’m despairing, but it was reassuring and God timed it perfectly considering where my thoughts were taking me on the subject this morning. I had felt fairly alone for a while until that moment, and I’m grateful God saw fit in His divine way of knowing to provide that conversation for me.

We parted ways in Zurich, and from there I headed to Munich. In vain attempts I tried to get some free WiFi, but everywhere it was protected. I needed it because Anna and Bianca, friends in Passau, both think that I’m getting there at 11:30PM, and now I’m getting there two hours earlier. Giving up I got on the train to Munich and simply read the whole way. The countryside leaving the Swiss Alps and entering the German is absolutely breathtaking. I wish I could drive through and take the time to stop every fifty clicks or so. It’s amazingly green, and never the same twice.

The alps I’d seen around Grenoble, and managed to see through the haze all morning in Geneva and central Switzerland hadn’t won much of my attention. They were cool, but not much different than the Rockies back home (nor did they really compare to the might of the Rockies mind you). But when I started heading north, wow. They looked like a jagged, chipped and mangled razor blade. It seemed as though they formed great, impregnable walls that surrounded the countryside through which we traveled. They were distant, and yet ominous at the same time. I loved them. I want to get closer to them, to see them and study them and be inspired by them.

Needless to say, I couldn’t help but be put in regular states of awe at the countryside as we swept past. I wish I could have gotten out and taken pictures. I arrived in Munich, sleeping actually, and discovered that the station had changed a fair amount. Thankfully someone woke me up when we arrived, but I was quite disoriented when I got off. I didn’t really recognize things at first as it had been two years since I'd last been there, but as soon as I did I realized that things had changed.

The signage was all new, more high-tech and all around nicer. But something had changed for the worse... I was hoping to use the internet café that had been there years before to alert Anna and Bianca to my early arrival, but discovered that it had been replaced by a Burger King. This was oddly ironic as I hate Burger King, and haven’t seen one since I left America due to the fact that the French share my distaste for the 'king.' I knew I liked France for a reason. So yet again Burger King foiled my plans leaving me disgusted and dissatisfied, as usual.

Thankfully I found an internet café across the street, and I can only hope that Anna or Bianca have gotten my message. I bought a Kebap, which was yet again different than any I had eaten before, and got on the train a good 30 minutes early. It’s nice and warm in here, like Nice, not like freezing Grenoble/Geneva/Zurich/Munich and I assume Passau. I’m going to really be missing my jacket soon.

Now, however, the radiator by my foot is practically melting my shoe off. I could use a little cool air now, but I doubt anyone in here would appreciate me opening the window. Oh well. And my battery is going to die soon, so I suppose I’ll have to end this little (a.k.a. overly-long) blog. If you made it this far, congratulations.

On the tram to school

In class

These seats look exactly like they did the last time I went to Passau, very different from any other train I've been in.

I made it! And only 15 hours of travel later!