December 15th.

Einstein said that there are two things that are internal: Universe and human stupidity. And he wasn't sure about the Universe. He was a wise, wise man.

You would think that the approximate check list for the day before departure would be:

• last minute shopping
• laundry
• packing
• cleaning the room
• making lunch for the next day 
• sleeping early
• waking up early

Yeah, right! :/

Instead of "peacefully" packing my stuff, I went out with an Armenian guy, who lived in Germany, but just moved back from South Africa and was thrilled that there was an Armenian student at the University of Oldenburg. He arrived a day before I was leaving, so the only chance we were supposed to meet was yesterday. 

So, instead of talking to him for an hour and a half then doing all the items on the check list (by 8 pm I only managed to shop) I went out at 10 pm.

The guy was very nice. He was born in Armenia but his family was one of those who moved in '93. At home he rarely spoke Armenian, only with his grandmother (God bless all grandparents who move to a foreign country but never learn the language and are the main reason why their grandchildren learn the language). He didn't know how to read or write in Armenian, but was very much aware of his roots, and involved in it just enough to be excited that there was another Armenian student in his University.

I just couldn't say no to meeting him, because I was very interested to talk to him, blah blah blah, Diaspora studies, blah, blah, blah.

It was great. We went to a Bavarian restaurant-bar, had a Schnitzel and beer (typical), he insisted on treating me. All we talked about was Armenia. Imagine my excitement. He never visited Armenia, so of course there were questions like "Are there any supermarkets/malls in Armenia, is there a subway, what is life like there? Are there any overcrowded bars, et cetera. I love these conversations.

Of course I missed the last bus home which meant that my "peaceful" packing and sleeping early plans were fucked. But we had to figure out how to take me home.

He called some of his friends to find out if I could borrow a bike and bring it back next day morning before catching my train to Hannover and then to Yerevan. One of his friends (a german guy who was twice taller than I am, of course) agreed to give me the bike. It was very nice of him, but after getting his keys and 10 minutes later discovering that my legs would definitely not reach the pedals, (I swear, the bike was bigger than me) I was screwed. The Armenian guy and I decided to walk home from the city centre. I never tried it before, but I thought it would take approximately 2 hours. Shit. 

35 minutes later the guy offered that I sat in the back of the bike and he would drive (he was as tall as the German guy we borrowed the bike). I hesitated, but in the end agreed. 

It was one of the things I didn't do it Oldenburg and it was scary as hell. The following 15 minutes I was praying (a habit I have when I think that my life would soon come to end by a car/bike accident). Being an atheist I think that sometimes I am being a hypocrite when I pray. 

I got home at 1:30. I still had to pack. Plus, I heard some really irritating news (more on that in my next post) and I was really pissed.

I was packing till 3:30 and then went to sleep, promising I would wake up early, finish packing, make lunch, have coffee and peacefully make my way to Hannover. 

Right… :/

As I woke up, I checked my Facebook messages, where I came to find that Anne, my flatmate and really good friend, sent me a message saying "Hey Laura. I am sorry we didn't say Goodbye to each other. I guess you left really early…" I didn't read the rest of the message, because I saw what time it was…

Instead of waking up at 9 (it was the sacred duty of my alarm clock), I woke up (thinking that it was earlier than 9, because I didn't hear the alarm) at 11:45.

FUCK!!! 

My room was a mess, I had no idea when the trains were leaving for Hannover, and the only thing that I could do was to PANIC!! 

Putting on the only clothes I could find, my shoes, closing my luggage not even checking what I put there, I started looking for trains from Oldenburg to Hannover. Thank God Brunna helped me there, because I only saw the direct trains and I was almost about to burst out in tears because I only found the train that was getting there at 4:30 while my plane was at 6:05 and I would still need to go to the Airport.

She found a train that would get me to Hannover at 3:30 which was perfect. The train left at 13:06 which meant that I was supposed to get the 12:20 bus to the train station, which was in... 10 minutes.

With half a sandwich for breakfast, no coffee, no make-up, no combing hair, no NOTHING, I put my computer in my backpack, checked my wallet and passport in my bag and screaming "Thanks Brunna, I love you. See you in 25 days. I am sorry … can't hug … have no free hands … the bus is… 4 minutes… Bye… Love you…" I went to the bus stop.

Now, my heart was still racing as the only thing I knew was that there had to be a train to Bremen, and one from Bremen to Hannover, but I had to figure everything out there, because I had no internet and no time to check. 

Worst start of the trip EVER. In the bus I started counting all the things that I forgot to take with me, including my Kindle, some clothes, toothbrush, some souvenirs, but nothing vital. 

The train to Bremen was on time (of course. It's Germany). My sack-voyage, which I bought yesterday, was banana-yellow and really heavy. As I wanted to enter the train, I heard "Laura!" and I turned around only to find out that the Armenian guy from yesterday was right behind me with a huge smile. He was visiting his grandmother, who was living not far from Oldenburg. We talked some more about Armenia (more on that later). 

-Say hi to your grandmother from me. Tell her that I love her, - I said to him when he went out of the train a couple of stops later. I still had a long journey home, but it looked like, despite my frustration and panic, that I would get home on time. 

"Would praying be really inappropriate?" I said to myself, doubting that I would feel like a hypocrite again.

One last time getting lost, with the cutest consequences.

A couple of weeks ago I wrote a post with my top 5 worst experiences being lost. I was relieved to have completed writing about the topic, and since I was leaving to Barcelona for 5 days and then leaving to Armenia shortly after coming back to Germany, I thought, "Well, at least I covered all the "getting lost" topics."

I was wrong.

My trip to Barcelona was great. But before I write about my unforgettable experience, let me tell a story of how I got lost two days before I left Oldenburg almost for good. 

On the 13th of December, at 16:30 I took a bus from Barcelona to Gerona, where the airport was located. The plane took off at 18:10, 5 minutes later than scheduled. I reached Bremen at 20:15, and by the time I reached the Hauptbanhof of Bremen, it was 20:45, and I had to wait 25 minutes for the train to Oldenburg. It was 11 sharp when I checked the clock in Oldenburg train station. Now, ideally, I would wait for 15 minutes for the bus number 308 to get to Johann-Justus-Weg. But an idea popped up in my head and I thought, "Hey, I should hang out in the city centre tonight, it's Friday!" 

I called one of my friends whom I didn't have the chance to say goodbye to, and asked if he wanted to grab a couple of drinks, thinking that I would go to my room, chance and go out with my bike. Unfortunately he told me he didn't have his bike and that he can meet me earlier. I said ok, thinking that I would quickly say bye and catch the last 308 bus to JJW, then peacefully go to sleep, so that I have time and energy to pack for Armenia the next day. 

The goodbye took longer than I expected and I thought that we would split the cab home. Instead he offered to catch the night bus, which actually nobody has ever heard before, but it existed. 

I looked at the stops of that "magical" bus (magical, because had I known it existed, I would have used it other days as well) and there was a stop "Rauerhorst" which was exactly 3 stops away from JJW, and I have crossed that street numerous times on my bike. It shouldn't have been far, so I thought - let's give it a try and not pay 20-30 Euros for a 7 minute cab-ride home.

That was a wrong decision. But if I didn't take the bus, I wouldn't have the story to tell. 

At 3:30 am or so, and after a one-hour-and-a-half-long cruise all across Oldenburg, I finally heard "Rauerhorst". I pushed the stop button and asked the bus driver "Wo ist Johann-Justus-Weg" to which he pointed left (or right, I don't even remember) and opened the door. I got out, thinking that I will get there in half an hour, forty minutes tops.

To my surprise I saw... nothing. It was that dark. Where to go? Which direction to take?

I started laughing at myself, because I have been lost so many times that I am already used to it. I wasn't scared, nor panicky. I just started walking, knowing that in worst case scenario I will end up outside of Oldenburg and kind German people will bring me home.

A little while after I saw two people on their bikes, riding towards my direction. I kindly asked "Hallo! Sprechen Sie English?". They were two teenage guys, who stopped and said that they don't have navigation, but their friends might.

Two minutes later their "mysterious" friends came, so, I was surrounded by 5 underaged youngsters and of course, the first thing that came into mind was a headline on next-day's newspaper called "Collectively raped and dismembered Turkish immigrant found dead in the forest next to Johann-Justus-Weg"

While the guys were looking at the navigation software trying to figure out how to get to JJW, I tried to convince myself that collective rapes and dismembership of body parts are much likely to happen in movies than in real live, and that at least the hypothetical article on the newspaper would write "Armenian" instead of "Turkish" as my Passport and ID were in my purse.

The guys turned out to be nice. Too nice. Realising that their directions (100 meter straight, then left, then right...) would not get me home safe and sound but rather confuse me even more, they offered to take me home. Surprised, and still a little freaked out, I agreed (thinking that going home alone would be no fun after all).

All five of the guys had bikes, but chose to walk with me. That was super nice of them, taking into consideration that during the 4 months I have lived in Oldenburg, I have met 4,5 Germans who were nice to me (no offence). I thought to myself that I might have misjudged them too soon and that the final 10 days in Oldenburg may still change my idea on the level of hospitality in this city.

We started talking. I was asked a bunch of questions like where I was from or what I studied, and what languages I spoke (to be safe, and judging from experience, I chose not to say that I knew Russian or that my country is anyhow related to Russia). Then, there were questions like "Which language is better: Armenian or German?" to which I tried to be politically correct saying, from the professional point of view of a linguist, all languages are equally beautiful. Then I stared asking them questions like what they wanted to do when they grew up, or if they liked traveling. We walked for about 45 minutes. I was walking like this vip person surrounded by 5 handsome bodyguards, slightly underage, but really tall.

We really hit it off. The guys told me that they wanted to attend a house party, but they were not allowed to get in for some reason. I told them, they had I known I would meet such nice guys, I would have thrown a party and invite all of them.

When I reached JJW, and it was time to say goodbye (I mentally prepared a nice speech beforehand, praising them for the good deed like helping a lost exchange student get home) one of them asked me if I was on Facebook (and I thought it was so cute) and if they could add me. Of course, I said "yes", and then, something even cuter happened: "Can we take a picture with you and add on Facebook?"

I told them that they were the nicest guys I had met in Oldenburg, and that if I had known them earlier, we could have hang out and they could meet my friends, and go to a party or something. Then one of them sent me a friend request on Facebook after we all took pictures (some with my camera, as I knew I would blog about this). When they asked my name, and I said Laura (with German accent, pronouncing "r" like Armenian "gh") they were like "WOOOOOW!! You have a German name!!! My sister's name is Laura!" Haha. Surprising foreigners with my name never gets old. Everyone thinks that Laura is very "their" name (very Italian, very Colombian, very German, very Spanish, very Catalan, very everywhere-ish)

But the cutest thing happened when I reached home. Of course at 6 am I had to go online and check Facebook. I added the guy immediately (and sent a friend request to the rest 4 of them) and wrote a status on Facebook:

and shortly after, Voila!!

In my list of adventures, getting lost this time was definitely the one I would call "The one with the cutest consequences!"They made me reconsider my attitude towards Oldenburg. :)

I look ridiculously short. Mama mia! 

The incident in Vienna Airport

As you probably saw on my Facebook page, I have been visiting Armenia in February-January.

I might have mentioned to you that I have had this "evil" plan on my brother. As I knew we was flying to Yerevan from Mississippi, I booked my flight so that we meet in the airport in Vienna. I have planned this couple of months prior to coming home, and basically told EVERYONE except for him. I was super-duper excited and wanted to capture his face on camera when he sees me there! Surpriiiiiise!!

He was told that I would arrive to Yerevan 2 days after his arrival and expected to come and meet me at the airport. My plan was brilliant. I was super excited!

Now the date of my travel back home arrived! I was ready, all packed and excited! My camera was fully charged and I had already practiced my "BAZINGA!" face in front of the mirror...

However, my Dad wrote to me saying that my brother's plane is delayed, and that's when I started worrying. What if he doesn't make it to Vienna on time?

Then I learned that he missed his next flight... He was "stuck" in Chicago.

On the other hand, I thought, my brother was asking a million questions regarding my arrival, so... what if he guessed that I was coming home with him and now THEY are playing a trick on me? That was so obvious!! Of course. My parents were never good at hiding stuff from us. Plus, my brother is smart and he knows me. Of course he figured out my plan.... Damn it, i shouldn't have smiled so much last time we skyped...

So now, I started practicing my surprised face and was ready for him to greet me with his camera in Vienna. Meanwhile I was talking to my parents any time I managed to find free Wifi. They were trying to persuade me that my brother was still in Chicago... Haha, like that was true...

...

I arrived to Vienna with expectations to be blown away. It would be 6 months since I last saw my brother. I missed him so so so so much!

And... he was NOT THERE! He was stuck in Chicago.

I felt the word "IDIOT" slowly being written on my forehead. Damn it. He really wasn't coming...

The moral of the story is... there's no moral. Sometimes you just don't get as lucky as you would want. He arrived two days after me.

There was a reason I got lost on my way to that badminton club.

I was thinking, maybe there was a reason I never made it to the badminton club in Oldenburg. No matter how much I tried to go there, there were constant obstacles, like hurting my foot or getting lost on the way... So, I decided that it was fate.

No big deal. I could survive without it.

However, on the last badminton practice at the University I met this girl who was quite a good player. We really hit it off and she invited me to play with her in the club I desperately wanted to go to. I said yes.

Honestly, from the moment I left my dorm, I was waiting for something to go wrong. I thought it would be closed, or the but that was supposed to take me there would break or something, or my phone would die and I wouldn't be able to find that girl, or we could have been eaten by a bear.

None of that happened. I was thinking that the universe finally approved of me playing badminton with the professionals. Little did I know that the universe was thinking "Buahahahahaha (evil laughter), wait till you start playing!!"

For you to understand what I had to go through, I am gonna write a little bit about my teenage years when I was playing badminton in Armenia.

I started playing when I was 9, up till I was 16.

One of the things that was constant during those 7 years I was playing was that I never felt like I was part of the team. Last couple of years of my "professional" career I was playing in the National Team. I was the youngest and honestly, I was never very good. I barely made the cut, sometimes only because the older girls got married, had kids and had to quit. I did participate in tournaments (national and international) and if you google me, you will find a lot of information, including those tournaments where I was the national champion years in a row. But on the international level - I was far from winning any tournaments.

None of the losses would matter that much if I knew that I had a supporting team who would have my back in the end of the practice, who would lift my spirit when I was having a bad practice. I was never told "Good job" or "That was a nice shot" when I was in the team. I couldn't have done everything wrong, no?

Even though badminton was a huge part of my life in my teenage years, I was happy when I quit it. I was finally living a life where the people surrounding me weren't mean to me. Nobody mocked me, called me names, humiliated me in front of everyone. I was finally able to be the person I wanted to be without people not letting me.

What I can't help asking myself after all these years is "What did I do wrong?"

There were two people who were specifically mean to me: a man and a woman. Both of them were much older than I was (10 years each), and you have no idea how horrible they were. I never said or did anything inappropriate. I never misbehaved. Never cheated. I was quiet as a lamb. In fact, I had a weak personality. At least that's what I thought back then. And no badminton could change that, at least with a team that hated me.

When I was playing doubles and mixed doubles with them, they were the worst partners one could ever imagine. They were unhappy with the way I was playing, and they never said what I did wrong in a human way: they always had to raise their voice. Both of them. So, every time there was a tournament and the match began, I would start praying from the first service till the last one for it to be over. Sometimes I put myself in an emotional coma, and of course it affected my game: I was intimidated, horrified... Imagine how I was playing. My feet were trembling, my racket was shaking. I was weak.

------

I made it to the professional badminton club. I changed my outfit, warmed up my muscles and started playing with this girl. It was only us in the courts and another group of teenagers, and I thought to myself "Wow, this is really awesome". But then the hell began.

First of all,  I saw this woman walking by who looked exactly like the Armenian woman making my life hell. I swear, I thought it was her. Being an atheist, I crossed myself.

Then two other guys came to the courts. Insanely tall, with all those professional bags and outfits... As they were changing their shoes, they were joking around with each other. And then they started playing. It was the level of my team (Germans are really good at this sport, just so you know). They were really good.

Then we started playing mixed doubles. Me, with a guy twice as tall as me, and the other girl with the guy that really looked like the-mother-fucker-who-ruined-my-life.

My heart started beating faster. I was breathless. I couldn't play. I was so, so, so bad.

In my defence, the lighting was different and the shuttles were heavier. I was hungry. I was thirsty. And a million other reasons, but none of that mattered, because the problem was that I ...

... I don't know what my problem was.

Then I started with "oh-my-God"-s and "I'm-Sorry"-s.

Then I felt really vulnerable. Then I didn't want to play anymore. I was not having fun.

Even though those people had nothing to do with what I was going through, I still didn't feel comfortable playing with them.

I know. I am traumatised. For life.

I wish I never went there. I wish I was eaten by a bear on the way, or at least the buses would magically stop working. I had to get out.

When I came home, I couldn't stop thinking about what had happened. It was much more traumatic than getting lost on the way and going outside of Oldenburg on the bike for three hours.

-------

I wish I could go to those two people in Armenia and ask them "Why did you do what you did?" I know there had to be another explanation other than they were assholes.

Unfortunately I don't know where they are now. I know that the man is in the States, desperately trying to find a job and become a third-class immigrant. And the woman, last time I saw her was two years ago in a bar, eating a full plate of crawfish all by herself on a Friday night. I did feel kind of sorry for her, but I still hated her guts. I didn't even say hello.

Lasts

Well, as anything nice, or pretty much anything in general, my stay in Germany is almost over. It doesn't mean that I would not be writing about Germany. Trust me, lots of stuff I haven't shared yet. But it means, however, that I will start using the word "Last" a lot more often.

So, my officially last party in Oldenburg was yesterday.

Honestly, I was a little nervous. I have never been good at saying goodbyes. I hate it. But hey, who doesn't? I have this quote that usually calms me down when I am going through changes in my life. It says "The only permanent thing in life is change". Nope, didn't make me feel better this time...

I knew what I was signing up for when I was applying to this program. New places, new friends and lots and lots of separations from people you finally got used to.

Anyways...

Some pictures of the awesome group of people who were by all means so nice to me from the moment they met me till the very last day. Honestly, guys, Thank you. I am extremely happy that I met all of you. You made it surviving in Oldenburg a looooot easier. I am gonna miss your overcrowded parties and crazy-drunk atmosphere. Hope to see you all around next year somewhere in Europe.

Top 5 worst times I got lost in Oldenburg

So, here is a weird thing about me and Oldenburg. We don't get along. Honestly, if I had to count all the times I have been lost, this post would have contain at least 100,000 words. To try to make it a little compact and readable, I decided to write down only top 5 worst times I have been lost in Oldenburg. Hopefully this post doesn't seem to depressing to the reader. That is not my intention, although I can say for sure that it has been painful a lot of times. Nevertheless, all of those times alone, and usually in the dark, made me a stronger person (who now not afraid of darkness or being alone).

5.  Bus number 302

You would think that seeing the same bus stopping in front of your dorm would mean that if you take the same bus elsewhere, it would take you home. But NO! 

So, there are two buses that stop at JJW: 308 and 302. After some shopping and walking around I went to the Central Station bus stop and waited for either of those buses. After freezing for 15 minutes, I sat on the bus 302 that I see coming to JJW bus stop twice an hour every day.

The ride was not smooth. I got really carsick and couldn't wait to get home. 

After 40 minutes of riding the bus, I found out that I was the only person in the bus who didn't get out, and I thought to myself, that I was not that far from JJW, because it is usually the last stop of 308 bus. Little did I know that I was almost out of Oldenburg.

Luckily I still remembered some German when the bus driver started talking to me. He asked me when I was going to get out of the bus, and I said JJW, to which he smiled and said "you are on the wrong bus".

I thought I shouldn't panic (although I really wanted to). I was not alone. At least there was a middle-aged-bus driver with me... in the middle of nowhere... alone... in the dark... so, if I scream, nobody would come to help. OMG! I shouldn't have watched "Criminal Minds" before going out. Time to panic!! Aaaaaaaaa!! 

The driver had to wait for about 15 minutes at the last stop, and then go back to the city center (reminding that it was 40 minutes away). He started smoking. And then talked to me with their weirdest german accent. He said that he has been an immigrant for 10 years in Germany. He was from Serbia, where his family still lives. He said that he liked Germany, even though he wants to go back to Serbia, to his kids and his wife. Then he started showing me the pictures of his family. He asked me how old I was, and then said that his son is 3 years older than me. He was very cute in the picture with his new BMW.

Then he started asking me lots of questions, like what I was studying, how long was I staying in Germany, etc. My answers were 35% German, 35% English and 30% Russian. It was an interesting combination, taking into account that I was, in fact, able to answer all the questions.

Then we started moving, and 40 minutes later I was where all this nightmare began. I had to wait another 20 minutes in the bus stop for 308 and 30 minutes later I got home, extremely carsick, tired and stressed, but my flatmates made me laugh about it, and said that they had the same experience with the same bus as well. 

4. Trying to get to the doctor

Please read more about it here, as I wrote about it previously.

3. Alexanderstrasse: there and back

Please read about it here

2. Missing the last train from Leer

Remember I put all the cute pictures of me in Den Haag in Holland where I went to visit my friend? You don't know how the story ended.

As you know, I am not very good at finding places, let them be hospitals, buildings, roads... not even god-damn bus stops. My trip to Holland was great. I did not miss any trains, it was smooth and comfortable, and I thought to myself "hmm, I am getting better at this". I wasn't :/

I had to change 4 trains to get to Oldenburg from the Hague. 3 of them were perfect. I got there on time, I got on the right trains, sat in front of the windows, read and listened to some music. It was nice. BUT when I got to Leer, a small town near Oldenburg, I couldn't find the train to Oldenburg, and when I realised that in the whole train station there were only two trains, one of which got me there, and the other one that was supposed to take me to Oldenburg, the other train left... 

Note, that was the last train to Oldenburg that day. In fact, it was the last train of the day. The other one was supposed to come at 4:05 am, I it was barely 9 pm then.

I was screwed.

I had to time to think or plan something. I just approached the first person I saw (a cute tall dutch guy) and asked him:

- Hi! Do you speak English

- Yes.

- Great! So, awkward question. I missed my last train to Oldenburg and I have no idea what to do. I can't stay at the train station for another 7-8 hours and I was wondering, since I have never been in this kind of disastrous situation, if you could advise me what to do? I am completely lost.

-Oh, ok. Well, you can try to go to a hostel.

While talking to this guy, I remembered that I had to meet one of the Armenians in Oldenburg, and I texted him to let him know that I was not coming, because I was stock in God-damn Leer.

Hearing my conversation with this Dutch guy, another man approached us (and I was quickly trying to find a hostel on my phone) and politely asked what was going on. I told him the whole thing and he said that he would take me to a hostel if I tell him the address in Leer. On the other side, the cute Dutch guy offered me to go back to Groningen with him, stay in his house for the night, and catch the next train in the morning. In the meantime, the Armenian who I texted told me to come to another city, which is closer to Oldenburg and he would come pick me up.

And there I was: lost again. I didn't know what to do.

It's tough to make decisions, especially when the thing you want to do is the unsafest one: going back to Groningen. So, I told the handsome Dutch guy, that it was extremely nice of him to offer that, but I couldn't (damn it, safety and security trainings!) and he left with the last train.

So, when the wife of the German men arrived, he kindly offered to take me to the nearest hostel, while the Armenian guy was telling me to get to the nearest city by a cab, which would be approximately 80-90 Euros (yeah, right...). Luckily, his wife was from Russia, and I told her about the opportunity of my friends coming and picking me up from the nearest city. I even called the Armenian guy, who gave the phone to the wife of his friend who was supposed to drive because the others were super drunk, who was also Russian, so they talked to each other, and 20 minutes later I was in front of the hospital, where we were supposed to meet.

On the way there, the nice Russian woman and I talked about our lives. She asked me what I was studying and she said that her children are my age and that they all studied in Germany, etc... We had a lovely conversation. She was super nice.

After thanking them for 5 minutes (I wanted to ask for her address to send her flowers or baked cookies, but I thought that it might be inappropriate) I sat in the car of my Armenian friends, who were, except for the driver, drunk as hell, and came to Oldenburg in 20 minutes. I was saved.

1. The time I wanted to play badminton 

The reason why this story is number one is because it is ridiculous. As many of you know,  I started playing badminton here in Oldenburg several times a week. I got so excited that I decided to try out the professional badminton club in Oldenburg.

Purely for my honest love towards badminton and no other reason whatsoever ( :D ) I asked the badminton coach at the University, who is a young half-Asian half German (I am only guessing) guy with a Spanish name, where the club was. He nicely put down the name of the club on a paper, and said that was the club is attends on regular basis.

Ok.

Knowing that the club has trainings on Tuesday and Friday from 7:30 till 10:00 pm, I looked up the address. It seemed a little far, but from what I had heard from my friends, indeed, it was supposed to be far. I wrote down the directions on the piece of paper with the help of Google Maps, which promised I would get there in 27 minutes from JJW on a bike. I left an hour early, just to be safe.

Going through almost every single dark street in Oldenburg, I got to the address I was going to in 1 hour and 25 minutes on the bike. I thought to myself that I was driving slow and I stopped once or twice to get directions. I was frustrated because I really was in the middle of nowhere, but at least I got the name of the club right. So I went inside, and saw that it was a bar. It was a sports bar, but a bar after all. There were two men drinking. I approached to them and asked if they had a badminton training there, to which, of course they replied: NO! 

After contemplating for 15 minutes, like "but was in on Blahblahblah street? No, the other street, the Blah street, the finally wrote me down another address and said that the bus would come any time soon. I told them I was on a bike, to which they rounded their eyes with surprise: "Did you come all the way from Oldenburg?"

I was outside of Oldenburg... on my bike... 

And I really really wanted to get there. It's all my pure love towards badminton, I swear.

Knowing the training would last for another 2 hours (and they promised I would get there in 10 minutes) I got on my bike, reached the Blah street they were talking about, and... are you ready?... instead of going right I went left, which took me even further out of Oldenburg.

After another 20 minutes it started raining. The streets were getting darker, till I finally found myself on a highway where there were no more houses, no more stores... nothing. Just few cars and a highway...

I was alright. I didn't panic. I knew that I had to be strong and besides, I was GOING to the badminton practice. I was not going to back up.

In another 5 minutes I realised that this was getting ridiculous. I was talking to myself like a crazy person, because I wanted company. I was asking myself questions, and answering them like it was completely normal. I felt normal, till I stopped to understand what street I was on. There I saw a woman, who was walking her dog. She saw me and asked me if I were lost.

I asked her if she spoke English and had a nice chat with her in my English-German dialect. And by nice I meant that I started crying because I didn't know where the fuck I was.

She was super nice to me. She asked me where I was going and tried to tell me directions. Then she realised that I was incapable of understanding anything she was saying and told me that she would take me there. We went to her house, where I met her daughter, who again, asked me where I was going. I looked at the watch. It was 9pm (note, I left home at 6:30). And then it occurred to me "What the fuck was I doing on this highway?" I had less than 15 days in Oldenburg left and instead of hanging out with my friends, writing a blog or doing homework, for crying out loud, I "went to play badminton". Was it worth it? Was he worth it? He wasn't worth all the trouble, really. 

So, I told the nicest lady to just take me to Alexandersrtrasse (the farthest street from where I could get home with no trouble). I sat in her car. Her daughter also kept us company, cheering me and saying that it could happen to anyone. at 9:30 I got home, tired and exhausted.

My flatmates were in the kitchen having a nice dinner. I went  inside and told them "Guys, promise you won't laugh". They were super excited and asked me a bunch of questions before I told them that I didn't make it to the badminton practice, like "How was it? Did you talk to him? What did he say? Is he gonna ask you out?"They laughed at me afterwards. But they were also very supportive. They said that at least I had an adventure for life. 

I had nightmares after this "journey", because it was too dark for too long a time. But I survived.

The reason why this was THE WORST time I got lost is because I had a navigation on my phone the ENTIRE time I was on the way. I knew exactly where I was, I just didn't know how to get back.

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These were top 5 worst times when I couldn't find my way home. Honesty, I learned so much while being alone, sometimes scared, hungry and wet from the rain. And trust me, this is only the start. I can't wait to write the same post about Stavanger, Lisbon, Lyublyana and wherever the hell I will go next.

Wish me good luck.

Laura, NO!

One of the things I should say more often! Even to myself. NO!

(I hope when I see this post a year or two from now I will understand what I meant by it. Haha.)

Random thoughts on the way to Berlin

Mitfahrer

For some mysterious reason  I thought that going to Berlin with a Mitfahrer (website which helps you find people who go from one destination to another, you pay a lot less than if you had taken the train or bus) was a good idea. My driver looked underaged (I even wanted to ask him how old he was) and it was freezing cold in the car.

As I got in the car, I realised that there is not gonna be any conversation whatsoever. Seriously, how is it possible to be in a car with 3 people you don't know and be silent? Aren't you interested in people you let in your car? Don't you need to hear from them that they are not complete psychopaths? Or maybe there are interesting people. Why don't you see if they have any life-stories that you can learn from?

And then I was thinking that if this was in Armenia (excluding the fact that they might have been... robbed and then left alone in the forest somewhere far from the town) the driver and the passengers would have probably found mutual friends on Facebook, then probably arrange a marriage or something...

The note

On the way to Berlin in that awkward car, I had nothing to do but to keep myself busy with my iPod. Going over the notes that I had typed down a year or two ago, I found one which made my wonder. It sounded like this: "It was the perfect moment and the perfect words. I knew he would find the right things to say. I am truly happy right now. Probably the happiest evening of this year." 

This was all. 

I looked out of the window, took a deep breath and asked myself: "Who the fuck did I write this about?" Nobody came to mind.

Traveling alone

From Johann-Justus-Weg team I have learned that there is absolutely nothing weird or sad about traveling alone. That is why I sat in my room and silently (although very frustrated by the unbearably slow internet) I booked trips to Utrecht-Hague-Amsterdam and Barcelona. Let the traveling begin.