lately | life in Mannheim

ma and mannheim -1-2 ma and mannheim -1-3 ma and mannheim -1-8 ma and mannheim -1-9 ulmenweg-1-3 ulmenweg-1-13 ulmenweg-1-5march/april 2015//mannheim, germany//canon 5d

Hypothetically speaking, I don't travel that often-more than I do at home, for sure, six or eight days each month-yet that it the only thing I seem to blog about anymore. My daily life in Mannheim gets pushed to the side, runs under the radar-but it's so special, I should write about it more. Maybe, losing all of my posts since January was a good thing (let's use the term "good" very, very loosely); because while I try to figure out how to solve that issue, I'm going to spend some time talking about life abroad.

Mannheim is ugly-but it's the most beautiful ugly I think I've ever seen, and I ache for it when I'm away. I've seen what other students abroad have, and it pales in comparison; because, yeah, they might have spires and cathedrals and fairy-tale landscapes, but I have people. I have little beautiful moments that I've stored away in my head, of strangers I pass by-a couple dancing in their living room late one night, chattering children on the train, a tired housekeeper in a stained uniform, smoking a cigarette in a dimly lit doorway. I have the international students-a strange, but incredibly wonderful group of students hailing from all over the world-that will probably never be let back into Mannheim after exchange. And, of course, I have my people, a combination of actual + honorary roommates who bang on my door, crates of falkonfelsers in tow, each night; we take turns cooking and swapping stories in my dingy kitchen until it's late. The weather is always good, it seems; even in April, the sun doesn't set until almost nine p.m., and we take ample opportunity of that to play frisbee and lay in the green grass. Weekends are for dark bars, the smell of cigerette smoke woven into our clothes, cheap beers and next-morning recaps.

The German has started to tug and pull on me a little-I haven't been on a train, or walked down a street and heard english in four months, which is a little long-but I do still like using my new words and phrases, fitting the words together in my head like a puzzle before I open my mouth. And there is this fear, starting to worm its way into my head, as I stated in my last post, because my time is almost over here, and I am nowhere near ready to accept that fact. But for now, I'm keeping myself in a cheerful state of denial, that these days will never end.


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