Next Wednesday, my driver and I will load up into my Humvee and join a convoy that will take us home. Finally.
It has been a long month for me. I came out here as the new guy and being the new guy is never easy. I’ve embraced a good deal of social awkwardness navigating through cliques and sitting down at the cafeteria table with complete strangers. It’s been fun at times, but mostly it has felt like middle school.
Was middle school ever fun?
Work has been exciting though. While I still have a lot to learn, I’m confident that I will enjoy my job. It will definitely be a challenge, but I’m excited to lead and train these Soldiers. I’ve prepared a long time for this opportunity and it is finally here. I will do my best.
When I do finally get home, I have to try to fulfill a promise I made myself. A few weeks ago, I was running in this park near my place and I stumbled across a local tennis club. The moment I saw it, I decided that I would try to join. I figure that you can easily make friends (and enemies) by playing sports. I’d take the enemies if they came with some friends.
And, of course, the travel bug has infected me and I’m ready to jump on a train to anywhere. Perhaps Austria for the Memorial Day weekend? Or Berlin?
Either way, I am almost home.
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Where I Lay My Head
Currently, I am in the “field” and doing my Army thing. I know many of you have no idea what “field” means so allow me to break down the finer details.
The “field” signifies that Soldiers leave home and their Army posts to go somewhere (in the woods, large training areas, different countries, etc) in order to do simulated real-world training. While field training varies from unit to unit, it sometimes can mean sleeping under the stars for weeks while walking 20 miles each day in pursuit of a role-playing enemy. Other times, it means relocating to another facility with barracks and a cafeteria so you can wake up really early and shoot at sophisticated targets and become deadly defenders of America. Regardless of the type, in the field, Soldiers work seven days a week and have super long shifts because work is the only thing to actually do.
In my case, this field training exercise falls somewhat under the second description and is allowing the Apache helicopter pilots I work with to fly around and shoot rockets and big machine guns. Pretty neat stuff.
What is not neat is the fact that I sleep and shower in rooms with 40 other men, seven days a week.
In all honesty, I have no idea how some people can snore so loud. My ear plugs, eye mask, deep breathing techniques, and intense focus on freaking sheep jumping over fences serve little purpose here.
Thank goodness that I am a man blessed with great patience and a good dose of mellowness.
The “field” signifies that Soldiers leave home and their Army posts to go somewhere (in the woods, large training areas, different countries, etc) in order to do simulated real-world training. While field training varies from unit to unit, it sometimes can mean sleeping under the stars for weeks while walking 20 miles each day in pursuit of a role-playing enemy. Other times, it means relocating to another facility with barracks and a cafeteria so you can wake up really early and shoot at sophisticated targets and become deadly defenders of America. Regardless of the type, in the field, Soldiers work seven days a week and have super long shifts because work is the only thing to actually do.
In my case, this field training exercise falls somewhat under the second description and is allowing the Apache helicopter pilots I work with to fly around and shoot rockets and big machine guns. Pretty neat stuff.
What is not neat is the fact that I sleep and shower in rooms with 40 other men, seven days a week.
In all honesty, I have no idea how some people can snore so loud. My ear plugs, eye mask, deep breathing techniques, and intense focus on freaking sheep jumping over fences serve little purpose here.
Thank goodness that I am a man blessed with great patience and a good dose of mellowness.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
I've Got A Home
The last shipment of my belongings came in on Friday, and now my apartment is beyond cluttered. But, I don’t mind.
In fact, I’m ecstatic to have all of my stuff with me in one place. That hasn’t happened in over five years. It has been a fun process to go through boxes filled with old keepsakes and reflect on cobwebbed memories. With each box, I’m reminded anew that God has definitely blessed me. It is refreshing and reassuring.
Of course, there are plenty of boxes filled with normal things too; kitchen supplies, clothes, all of my outdoor gear, etc. With the unpacking of all of this “stuff”, I realized today that I’m beginning to settle down. Finally.
In the past 11 months, I’ve lived out of three suitcases in seven different hotels in five different states. That’s pretty much the definition of a vagabond, I think. Being a vagabond is great, and I’ll probably want to do it again at some point in my life (perhaps I’ll have a beautiful wife to journey with next time). But, it is exhausting.
And, it has exhausted me.
So, I’m glad to unpack all of my boxes and have a cluttered apartment. It is a sign that my suitcases can stay in the closet for a little while (my backpack will suffice for the upcoming weekend adventures on the continent). Soon enough, I’ll be able to finally start cooking some real meals in my own kitchen. I’ll be able to invite new friends over for a good food and cold beer. For a retiring vagabond, that is a pretty exciting notion.
But, I’m going to have to put it all on hold for a few weeks. Ironically enough, I’m packing up again today and heading out to “the field” for some old fashioned Army training. I’ll most likely be out of touch for two weeks. It will be a critical time of integration into my work and will afford an opportunity to get to know my Soldiers. I am their new leader and my leading starts now.
And while I’m gone, my apartment will still be cluttered. But, when the training is done, I get to come home. My home sweet home.
(Ok, I also need to tell this story even though it doesn’t fit the context of my blog post:
Yesterday, I was driving 98mph on the autobahn. It was thrilling. It was my last full day with my rental car and I was curious to see what a Ford Fiesta could do when given a little gas. It definitely can get into the triple digits.
But, at one point, I was driving 98mph and out of no where, this Toyota minivan zoomed right passed me. The kids in the backseat where watching some animated movie. Perhaps Nemo or Toy Story, but the van’s excessive speed made it impossible to tell.
Regardless, I got passed by a minivan…when I was going 98mph. Germany is unique, and I think I like it. )
In fact, I’m ecstatic to have all of my stuff with me in one place. That hasn’t happened in over five years. It has been a fun process to go through boxes filled with old keepsakes and reflect on cobwebbed memories. With each box, I’m reminded anew that God has definitely blessed me. It is refreshing and reassuring.
Of course, there are plenty of boxes filled with normal things too; kitchen supplies, clothes, all of my outdoor gear, etc. With the unpacking of all of this “stuff”, I realized today that I’m beginning to settle down. Finally.
In the past 11 months, I’ve lived out of three suitcases in seven different hotels in five different states. That’s pretty much the definition of a vagabond, I think. Being a vagabond is great, and I’ll probably want to do it again at some point in my life (perhaps I’ll have a beautiful wife to journey with next time). But, it is exhausting.
And, it has exhausted me.
So, I’m glad to unpack all of my boxes and have a cluttered apartment. It is a sign that my suitcases can stay in the closet for a little while (my backpack will suffice for the upcoming weekend adventures on the continent). Soon enough, I’ll be able to finally start cooking some real meals in my own kitchen. I’ll be able to invite new friends over for a good food and cold beer. For a retiring vagabond, that is a pretty exciting notion.
But, I’m going to have to put it all on hold for a few weeks. Ironically enough, I’m packing up again today and heading out to “the field” for some old fashioned Army training. I’ll most likely be out of touch for two weeks. It will be a critical time of integration into my work and will afford an opportunity to get to know my Soldiers. I am their new leader and my leading starts now.
And while I’m gone, my apartment will still be cluttered. But, when the training is done, I get to come home. My home sweet home.
(Ok, I also need to tell this story even though it doesn’t fit the context of my blog post:
Yesterday, I was driving 98mph on the autobahn. It was thrilling. It was my last full day with my rental car and I was curious to see what a Ford Fiesta could do when given a little gas. It definitely can get into the triple digits.
But, at one point, I was driving 98mph and out of no where, this Toyota minivan zoomed right passed me. The kids in the backseat where watching some animated movie. Perhaps Nemo or Toy Story, but the van’s excessive speed made it impossible to tell.
Regardless, I got passed by a minivan…when I was going 98mph. Germany is unique, and I think I like it. )
Monday, April 26, 2010
The Community in Vomit
I recently had an unpleasant experience with vomit. A few days after arriving here in
Then, during a meeting with a German housing inspector, my nausea evolved into complete and utter projectile vomiting. It was bad. I heaved a subway sandwich, among other “items”, all over the floor, my shoes, and my pants. Thankfully, the inspector was clear of the blast area and his shoes were saved. I can’t speak for his sense of smell or his mental state (which must be haunted by images of acidic mush flying through the air).
In the days since, I’ve seen the German inspector a few times in random locations throughout town. He has never mentioned the incident. Nor have I. We just sort of smile and nod at each other. I think it is a special, unspoken bond we now share. Maybe he is my first German friend?
I’m hoping to make more German friends. I definitely don’t want to stay completely in the American bubble. Tomorrow, I’m moving into my apartment in town and I’m praying that it will help with my assimilation into parts of the local culture.
Getting connected is vital. Being around people is vital. For much of my initial time here, I’ve been alone. Doing errands alone, going to meetings alone, living alone. Being alone leads to loneliness, obviously. I can enjoy being alone, but I can’t enjoy being lonely.
So, I’m anxious to make some friends; German and American friends that will hopefully evolve into a community of which I’m a member. Then, if I ever get sick again maybe one of them will come over and be with me as I vomit. They’ll be disgusted at first, then they’ll laugh at me and my misfortune and it will make me laugh too. And then we’ll sit on the couch and watch tv while I drink a ginger ale and they sip a beer.
That’d be good.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Introductions
Today, I went to church for the first time since I moved to Germany about two weeks ago. I walked into this nondescript building in a town of about 450 people and realized I was about to meet every single member of the church.
There were 9 other people there.
I stood around awkwardly (thankful to have my trusty water bottle with me so I could drink and look "busy") and eventually half of the congregation came over and introduced themselves to me. We chitchatted and I told them all how I was new and had just moved to a town about 20 minutes away.
They were nice. Definitely.
But, the thing is that whenever I meet new people, I have the hardest time remembering their names. Ideally, I usually like to repeat people's names in my head 10 times or so in order to remember them. But more often than not, I look like a fool if I steal 6 or 7 seconds to conduct this exercise because I miss the inherent social nuances that imply that it is my turn to speak, raise my eye brows, look engaged, etc.
And, in the end, I just look stupid.
I eventually met all 9 people at the church and they all told me their names. Now, 7 hours later, I remember only one guy. Lee. He was a good guy and he didn't need any tricks to remember my name.
So, I'm writing this blog now and I wanted to introduce myself. You probably already know me and remember my name. I probably remember your name too. But, it never feels good to be standing there, water bottle in-hand, looking like a fool.
I'm Cameron. On this blog, I'm going to write about a variety of things; adventures in Germany, God, nature, girls, and other stuff that strikes my fancy. I hope you'll read it, and I hope perhaps you'll get something out of it. Even if it is just remembering someone's name.
There were 9 other people there.
I stood around awkwardly (thankful to have my trusty water bottle with me so I could drink and look "busy") and eventually half of the congregation came over and introduced themselves to me. We chitchatted and I told them all how I was new and had just moved to a town about 20 minutes away.
They were nice. Definitely.
But, the thing is that whenever I meet new people, I have the hardest time remembering their names. Ideally, I usually like to repeat people's names in my head 10 times or so in order to remember them. But more often than not, I look like a fool if I steal 6 or 7 seconds to conduct this exercise because I miss the inherent social nuances that imply that it is my turn to speak, raise my eye brows, look engaged, etc.
And, in the end, I just look stupid.
I eventually met all 9 people at the church and they all told me their names. Now, 7 hours later, I remember only one guy. Lee. He was a good guy and he didn't need any tricks to remember my name.
So, I'm writing this blog now and I wanted to introduce myself. You probably already know me and remember my name. I probably remember your name too. But, it never feels good to be standing there, water bottle in-hand, looking like a fool.
I'm Cameron. On this blog, I'm going to write about a variety of things; adventures in Germany, God, nature, girls, and other stuff that strikes my fancy. I hope you'll read it, and I hope perhaps you'll get something out of it. Even if it is just remembering someone's name.
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