on going home (and Heidelberg)

Funny word, home. While jointly considering this topic and the fact that a new Dave Carter and Tracy Grammer album is coming out soon (remarkable when you consider that Dave Carter died when I was nine), I recalled that during our first couple of years living in Kingston, Harriet and I used to sing the chorus of “Gentle Arms of Eden” loudly whenever we reached the FDR Drive on the way back to Brooklyn. It begins: This is my home, this is my only home… Obviously, we were a bit overexcited because I really do not consider the FDR Drive “the only sacred ground I’ve ever known,” but my point is that after a time, the singing died down. It wasn’t that our love for Brooklyn had diminished; it still hasn’t. But Kingston became our home, too.

On Monday, I arrived in Heidelberg. It felt completely surreal to be back in the place where I first fell in love with Germany and with the people who made it happen. I walked into the house, and I felt like I was home. It looked the same, it smelled the same…I know that sounds really weird, but smells are somehow incredibly memorable, even when you don’t realize that you remember them.

Of course, there were a few differences. There was snow on the ground, we didn’t eat outside, and the cast of characters was slightly altered. Also, my presence did not force everyone to converse in another language, and it was great to understand plans as they were being made, instead of waiting for someone to translate the result for me at the end. But however you slice it, I had a feeling of being back in a place where I belonged.

Quick background: Chrissi is my “exchange partner,” you could say. I stayed with her for a month in summer 2009, and she stayed with me for a month last winter. Angelika and Bernhard are her parents. She has two brothers who are in various foreign countries at the moment, but her boyfriend Paul was there. They are all really lovely, fun people, without whom I would probably be in Kingston suffering from an acute case of senioritis right now.

Anyway, I really had an amazing time in Heidelberg. We did old things (bought candy in the Zuckerladen and hiked up to the Königstuhl) and new things (visited the Speyer Technikmuseum which provided a wealth of entertainment in the form of peculiar English translations and cool old cars, went ice skating, saw the Heidelberger Weihnachtscircus, and played about two hundred rounds of Kniffel — Yahtzee to you, America). I got to see lots of people who I haven’t seen in a year and a half (I was reminded of how little German I used to speak when I successfully answered the question of what language I wanted to converse in and was met with expressions of surprise at how well I could understand), and try to explain things about politics and education for which I lack almost all of the necessary vocabulary, and even take the train down to Stuttgart to visit my New York-friend Kate. (Just like everyone promised, it was really wonderful to spend a few hours with someone who I could understand and converse with easily.) (We spoke German.)

By the way, one of the most remarkable things about my visit is pretty well illustrated by the following two photographs:

I took the first one on Tuesday. I took the second one on Saturday. Yes, same week. On Saturday it was about 60ºF. Gorgeous weather to walk up the hill without a sweater, but also completely insane. There was practically a river coming down the trail. I’d pretty much forgotten that it was winter until it started to get dark unexpectedly early. Unsurprisingly, I saw a bit of flooding on the train back north along the Rhein on Sunday.

Which brings me back to my point. Leaving Heidelberg again was really sad (and I’ll definitely be going back), but meeting Gaby and Tobi again at the train station in Düren was really happy. Coming back to the house and having a fire in the wood stove again was really happy. Even having the dogs jump all over me was really happy. I was home. Again.

I guess those people who insist that home is where the heart is have a point. It’s kind of cool that mine is scattered all over the world. (I could make some really great Horcrux jokes right now.)

Oh, and if you’re into contemporary American folk music, Dave Carter was pretty much a songwriting genius and Tracy Grammer is still wonderful.

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