Every once in awhile, I allow myself to dip into the past and see what was what when the Earth was last in this exact(ish) spot in relation to the Sun.
That is how it works, right? If that’s wrong, my Earth-to-Sun relationship comment, then we know absolutely nothing has changed since last year, as I am forever getting things like that wrong. I know I’m supposed to be horribly embarrassed but somehow never am!
As I thought about doing a dip into the ol’ PG archives, which you should know are kept here on the internet and not in the Library of Congress YET, it dawned on me what I’d find: Germany.
This time last year, I was in Germany. I went to Berlin last winter, during my break from grad school to visit my friend Claus and the trip was … Wow. But not like, Vegas-wow. More like Band-Aid-rip-off-wow-that-hurt-wow. Ow-wow, in other words.
If you’re reading this right now, there are three possibilities regarding the unfolding of The Germany Trip here on the ol’ PG:
- You’ve been reading me for at least a year and you totally remember The Germany Trip and you’re making this wince face. I am making a tired face, but I was wincing a second ago.
- You’ve been reading me for a long time but have a selective memory, so you’ve selected to forget how I traveled thousands of miles and found myself touring a Stasi prison in January, in Berlin, as fat, wet snowflakes fell on my head … for love.
- You’re new! And you’re interested now for sure.
If that last one is you, boy, are you in luck! I happen to have a veritable bouquet of links for you.
Perhaps begin with this post, wherein I announced my plans for the trip. Oh, what a happy lass I was, playing in the fields of low-cost international airfares. Then read this, where I’m a week out from leaving and full of anticipation and curiosity. Then move to this post, which finds me physically safe in Germany … but emotionally perilous.
Anyway, that was pretty much exactly right now, a year ago, the Germany trip. My word but it was cold over there. Good hot chocolate, though, and I rode the bus all by myself. By the way, if either of us get too melancholy reaching into the mists of yesteryear, there’s always this post from a year ago next week, which is a script in which a woman (me) has a fight with her vacuum.
Also, what’s up with mid-January bringing “ow” to me two years in a row?
I blame the Sun.