Today we had mean weather. I walked outside jacket-ready for Autumn weather, but the mist was so thick I couldn't tell if it was sprinkling. I rode my bike to the Catholic, all-girls school I'm working at half of my time here (last week I was at my other one). The ride to school is one of my favorite parts of the day, right now. It's a simple ride for twenty minutes along the main river running through Salzburg, the Salzach (click on the little speaker to the right of the word on the German side to hear it). The entire bike route is so nicely marked, usually with a sidewalk for pedestrians, and a separate, concrete trail with lanes and arrows to direct bike traffic. It weaves seamlessly across the sidewalk (most pedestrians know to look, and so do the cyclists), and under every bridge as you make your way past the famous, densely tourist-packed city-center. Much like car traffic, sometimes you get stuck behind someone slow, and you have to wait until the lane of oncoming bikes is clear to pass. It feels like you're part of a larger organism, doing your part in the circulation. It's the perfect way to start off my day: I need the movement, and my heart pumping to wake me up; not to mention the leaves are all reaching their prime Autumn hues right now.
Classes at St. Ursula, the Catholic school, have been largely very entertaining for everyone involved. It turns out I'm the first male Teaching Assistant they've had in a while, and it's an all-girls school, as I mentioned. I get the funniest greetings in the hallway, and the looks I get in the classroom are actually really distracting. I had one girl yesterday who didn't seem to realize her mouth was hanging open for about half of the class. It's a new experience for me, which I wasn't expecting. One of the schools I was at last year was almost all girls, but it wasn't nearly so pronounced. I guess having guys around, even if they're few, really makes a difference. They're all teenagers, ages 15 to 18 or so. There's been lots of giggling, whispering, and silly questions. The first week is always great. You get to be a rock star. It will pass, though. It's that tragic fate of novelty! Subtly, and sometimes suddenly, the bright or deep colors fade, the fresh scents turn familiar, and the veil falls.
I was done at work by 10am (I win). Hyped by the coffee a colleague had treated me to at work, I rode the 25 minutes home, switched clothes, and went for a jog. After lunch I felt the need to be productive, so I went out to see if I could find recycling containers for glass or metal nearby. When I came back from my search I pulled out an abnormally light key chain, only to realize that I'd forgotten to put the keys back on the chain after taking them off and putting them in my pocket for my run. Here's that moment. You know it. You've experienced this very thing. That whole list, all of the productivity, all of those oh-so necessary things you planned to do are suddenly endangered for the foreseeable future. Blood pressure rises, your body tenses, and you become aware that you are at a crossroads: this moment will either ruin my day, or make it. Today I straddled the paths for as longs as possible before the distance between got too great. After trying a lock-bypass with an old insurance card, trying to find a way to open an un-openable window, and considering asking my neighbors if I could attempt some Mission Impossible jump from their balcony up to mine, I gave up and decided being locked out would make my day.
On my way into town I passed by the Eastern-European man I pass almost every day, who (I think) plays the same song all day, every day. I could sing it for you right now. It gets stuck in my head. In the city center I heard some street musicians and came close. They were some of the best I'd ever heard. It was a trio (siblings?) who were most likely from some place in South America. I watched for about ten to fifteen
While taking the recycling out after getting let back into the apartment by my roommate Tanja, I realized a very special thing was happening today: Sperrmüllsammlung. I'd experienced it when I lived in Eichstätt three years ago, when our exuberant flatmate Stefan returned multiple times per day in his three day "trash" collecting marathon to bring back carloads of unwanted dish-ware, furniture, electronics, etc. I spent probably a total of three hours tonight sifting through discarded cabinets, children's toys, and broken furniture to see what I could find. The results are dramatic, and while my legs are complaining about the day, the rest of me is ecstatic about a fuller, carefully-chosen room and a very, very cool balcony.
This isn't the first time I've started a new life. I've been doing it just about every year for about five years
Yet, this is fifth "new life", and I'm still not that guy. The promise of the fresh start, the clean slate is an illusion. We passively, or half-actively hope for life to give us that hand, but then another year passes by, the leaves fall, the harsh, cold winds blow, and we are stripped of the novelty. Looking at ourselves naked as we are, we most often find we are just about the same we've always been. I know it, because when I went back to my "old lives," I found that the old me didn't feel so old, and the new me didn't feel so new anymore. So, we'll see. There's only so many times I can write it or say it before I do it or don't.
Did you change the way you wanted to? Is it really about getting that fresh start, the clean slate?
BAM. Did I end it with a sucker-punch? Well if so, I hope it didn't hurt too bad. I'm pretty sure the promise is there regardless.
