I strained to see out the window as the plane accelerated down the runway. Water droptlets on the window streaked backwards and the roar of the engine shook the entire plane. The plane started gaining height, and as I felt myself pressed back into my seat, it finally struck me that I was leaving for Germany!
Eight long hours later I could see rolling green hills as the plane landed in Stuttgart. I traveled with a group of ten other students from my school, and after waiting a few minutes our taxi-driver met us by the entrance to the terminal and greeted us in a heavy Schwaebisch dialect. The driver sped down the Autobahn at a terrifying speed, causing our five heavy suitcases stacked precariously in the back to clank and shift around noisily.
At last we arrived at the train station in Horb, and waited for our host families to come pick us up. I watched the tiny European cars snake by us on the narrow cobblestone streets, and listened to people speaking German as they strolled past. My host mother had to work, so I went home with the Langner family and spent the day with them. We ate delicious pretzels and went on a walk through the neighborhood to take pictures. Horb is built right into the mountaintops and we walked to a park that overlooks the entire city.
That night my host mother Ute Zaminer came by the Langers after she got off work to pick me up. She took me back home and introduced me to my host sister Alena, who's 15 and my host brother Mike who's 13. That night I was very tired from jetlag and went to bed at around 8pm. The next morning I woke up early for my first day of class at Hermann Hesse. The school is tucked away on a quaint cobblestone road, and is surrounded by little shops and restaurants. We had to take a placement test to see which German class we are allowed to take. The test was fairly long and we were all still recovering from jetlag, but overall the test wasn't so bad. Getting back home that day, however, is an entirely different story.
I stood by the snow-covered bench, waiting for the bus to arrive and after about 30 minutes it came. The farther we drove the greater my uneasiness became, because the route didn't look familiar at all. After about an hour the bus came to a stop and everyone got off the bus. I walked up to the front of the bus and asked the driver if this bus was headed to Weitingen, and he laughed a deep German laugh and said, "No, only to Nagold". I got off the bus and waited for another one to take me back to Horb. Once there I waited for an hour and a half for the next bus back home. The moral of the story is never to take the bus to Nagold again. Each time I see that bus I always think of my unfortunate excursion there.
This weekend I'm going to Tuebingen with a group of students from Hermann Hesse! I'll write all about it here :)
