Dubiln to Hamburg

Hey team,

I'm writing this from a German keyboard and computer, so not only is spellcheck flagging almost every word, but some of the kezs are jumbled around to accomodate extra characters. Thatäs right, the kezs. Hah, there it is again. Kezs = keys, thatäs = that's. Other fun characters include ö, ü and ä. Schrecklich (awesome)!

After very nearly missing our 9:30 flight out of Dublin this morning, we arrived in Hamburg around noon. Before I relish in our mishaps in Deutschland, let me add a little detail to the airport story.

Despite JC's warnings, our hometeam leaves the hostel and splits up into two cabs to reach the airport at 8:20 AM, just a hair over an hour before the flight is scheduled to leave. Group one arrives at 8:45, and immediately finds that the Irish don't believe in self-check-in kiosks, but instead insist on waiting in line to print off your boarding pass. This takes about 15 minutes, but no big deal since it takes about the same amount of time for group two to flag down a cab, and they are just arriving. The lads hop in line to get their Visas checked, and while they wait they come to notice that, according to their boarding passes, the gate closes in approimately...5 minutes ago. Uh-oh.

Still hopeful that whole "gate-closed" thing is an exaggeration, Matt and Terry break through the Visa and security checkpoint ranks and run ahead through the terminal. The rest of the group finally makes it through, but by the time they begin their mad dash through the crowd the flight is scheduled to leave in less than ten minutes. Things are looking pretty bleak for our protagonists. But wait! Jumpin Johosophat, the flight has been delayed and hasn't even started boarding yet!

Only one problem: where's Matt Curtis? He and Terry were aparently split up when they first busted through the checkpoint. While the group splits up again to frantically search for their MIA compadre, Curty sits alone at his presumed gate, supposing that it is empty simplz because the flight has already left. Finally wondering if something is amiss, he glances at the boarding/departure screen and nearly poos his pants when he realizes that he's at the wrong gate. Turning on the afterburners he speeds through the terminal and runs into his exasperated amigos just minutes before they step aboard their flight - frazzled, frustrated yet entact. Crisis averted. Thanks God.

Check out Curty's post for his version of the story.

Since we're trying to keep this blog PG-rated, you'll just have to ask JC for his version. It's a little more verbally...colorful than this account.

Now on to Hamburg.

Moving from the United Kingdom to mainland Europe is stepping into the big leagues. No longer are all the signs written in English, is it easy to get directions, does the culture somewhat mirror our own, or can we navigate public transportation with ease. So while we were jovially shouting German phrases back and forth (thanks moms for that trusty handbook) as we stood in line in Customs at the German airport, when we reached Hamburg proper and tried to locate our couch-surf* house the mood was a little more subdued.Thanks to a pair of English-speaking German ladies we found our way to the train station, but when we got off the rail things started getting interesting.

Jordan had received directions to our host, Jonas's house, but these directions were unfortunately stored on Matt's laptop which had just run out of battery. We had managed to copy down, about two lines, but there wasn't enough context or completion to the manuscript to make much of it. After squabbling a bit over our next course of action (again, you'll have to ask JC for his version of this for the full story), we forayed into the Fatherland in search of a power outlet.

Disclaimer: if you are a mother, continue reading at your own risk. Some of these things may frighten you and/or cause you to hop the next flight over here to drag your son back home.

Commercial establishments were few and far between. We managed to find what appeared to be a general store, but the store owner neither spoke English nor seemed to take very kindly to our motley crew. We started to feel uncomfortable as we moved into another room in the store and could feel that all eyes were fixed on us. A group of early twenty-somethings had given us the same stare-down when we'd first entered the store, so as we fumbled around in the second room trying to find the right outlet converter to fit with the laptop power cable, we started rethinking our strategy.

The store was nearly silent as we made our way out, and we were once again met by the less-than-cheerful stare of the young adults milling outside the store. As we walked away, Jordan muttered what was already going through all of our heads: "That's the most physical threatened I've ever felt." Yep, glad we got that one out of the way early.

Moms you can open your eyes again, the scary part is over.

After arriving back at the train station, we spent another 20 or 30 minutes trying to interpret the directions or find another solution to our predicament, and then Matt remembered that we could use his phone to access the directions to Jonas's house and his phone number. With a quick phonecall, Jonas directed us to literal (and proverbial) other side of the tracks, and reassured us that the neighborhood was fine to walk around in. He was definitely right, and within five minutes we had met up with him in a much safer and inviting neck of the German woods.

Even though the trainstop was only a 7-minute walk from the house, the whole ordeal took us well over an hour, so by the time we arrived at our final destination we were far past ready to take a load off.

It's late, so I'm going to call it quits for now and let someone else fill you in on the rest of our day. Quick version is, great afternoon in downtown Hamburg and on a beach alongside the river that flows through town.

Gute Nacht,

- jv


* See other post for explanation and stories around couch-surfing