Day 2: Settling into Parisian Life

We arrived at CDG airport in Paris at 8:00AM. While waiting for our luggage, I got to gorge myself on the sight of fashionable Parisians, wearing boots, leggings, layers of necklaces, scarves, and gorgeous overcoats. We caught the shuttle to the train terminal, stood in line for what seemed like forever for RER tickets, and finally got on the train headed for Paris proper.

Tired, we got to the metro stop near our apartment and recommended by our rental place. But we were an hour or so late in arriving and could not find Giovanni (the landlord) anywhere and instead had to search high and low for a phone to call him. Eventually we called home because we were having trouble making local calls, and Celeste called Giovanni to tell him we were waiting outside the apartment building.

He met us outside and showed us up the creaky stairs – two flights – to our apartment. It
was a one-room place, with a kitchenette, a bathroom, and a very clean shower (!). He
gave me the keys, I gave him a security deposit, and we were left alone to relax and regroup.
Since we were exhausted, we decided to explore the local scene on Rue Montorgeuil. On that charming street are bakeries, fromageries, poissoneries, a supermarché, and several cafés. It was very lively, mostly populated by Parisians who do not speak much English.We bought quiche (Mommy had quiche lorraine and I had saumon) and café au lait for a light dinner, did our grocery shopping, and went back to the apartment, 36 r. Montmartre, apt. 9, to unpack and enjoy an early bedtime.

Paris Day 1: In the Air

It was the morning after a wonderful, albeit draining, Defender’s Day weekend. At around 4AM, I dragged myself – still achy from hauling benches and tables from the tavern to the Fort - out of bed, drank my token two cups of coffee, and literally threw the rest of my stuff into my suitcase. Daddy had taken the day off to help us get out the door, and he and the girls dropped Mommy and I off at the airport in D.C. Everyone was a little sad, especially Mommy, but excited at the same time.

Our flights, from Washington to Philly and from Philly to Paris, were mercifully uneventful. While in Philly, we spent a few hours at the USO lounge on the recommendation of my Aunt V., which was very nice. I had an interesting conversation with a tall, imposing African American man who I later discovered was a three-star general. Also, to add a little excitement, our gate was changed from one end of the airport to the other in Philadelphia so Mommy rode in the cart and I ran. Finally in line for our flight, we met some nice elderly people on their way to Normandy.

In-flight entertainment included “The Proposal”, “Star Trek”, and “Monsters, Inc.”. Embarrassingly, I did fall asleep for an hour or so whilst watching “Star Trek”. But it was fitful and I eventually gave up on sleeping.

Day 9: Taronga Zoo and the SOH

Once again, Celeste and I were up bright and early to greet the Australian morning. I said good morning to my new bathroom-line friends, the French priests, between whom I stood for the second morning in a row. They gave me very strange looks and continued their own conversation, apparently holding my French accent against me.

This morning we headed down to Circular Quay to take the ferry to Taronga Zoo. This was to be our first ferry ride in Sydney. Freezing cold wind and rain ripped right through us while we stood on the dock, and it was then I decided I was going to have to buy a pair of gloves soon or die. Still in shock with cold, we met two women who volunteered at the zoo and they recommended some shows and exhibits to us.

It must be amazing to commute by ferry as so many people do in Sydney! That is one thing that I love about that city; I would almost want to live there just to take the ferry all the time. This particular ferry route took us around the Sydney Opera House and straight to Taronga Zoo. Like other forms of public transportation in Sydney, the ferry was quite nice, with three floors, a café, and interior heating.

The weather was still nasty when we arrived at Taronga, and would remain so the rest of the morning. After making sure to get our pilgrim discounts at the ticket counter, we zipped through the practically empty zoo in about two hours. I was so excited to see a platypus! The creatures are extremely shy, and we had to walk back to the cage several times and wait before we actually spied one, hiding under a log in its swampy environment.

Finally, wet to the bone, we decided to take the Skycar – a little suspended car that takes you back and forth over the zoo – up and down the zoo before we left. It was amazing to see everything from above. We ran from the zoo exit to the ferry and climbed aboard. Half an hour later, we met the cousins at Starbucks and all warmed up over cups of hot coffee and warm scones while we made plans for the rest of the day.
Our next stop was the Sydney Opera House. Since the day was fine and sunny now, we mulled around the outside a while and took pictures before buying tickets for a tour of the inside. The inside of the Opera House is just as magnificent as the outside, despite the fact that the building is so recent that construction is still ongoing. Approximately 85% of the SOH is finished inside; the rest has yet to be torn apart and done according to the original visionaries' plans.

My list of ideas for sightseeing that I put together before the trip included a Ghost Walk at Manly Quarantine Station, and everyone thought it would be an excellent evening for it. Thus we caught the ferry to Manly together. Everyone was starving by the time we arrived, so we wandered about the boardwalk until we found a kebab place. The little eatery was run by a Kurdish guy and his parents (who used to own a Mexican restaurant), and we decided to eat there when they could indeed tell us where the Ghost Tour met every night. I ordered pide (my new favorite) and proceeded to leave a rather large tip: I left my entire bag of souvenirs from the SOH under the table and never was able to retrieve them!

The last bus of the evening took us from the Manly Wharf to the Quarantine Station and dropped us there. The bus stop was in the middle of nowhere, and it was pitch black, cold, and rainy. I wondered what on earth the "Quarantine Station" was...a field? A wood? Anyway, we saw a shed peering out of the dark and made our way inside to escape the cold and figure out what to do next. To our chagrin we found out, from a brochure laying on the floor inside the shed, that the ghost tours were by appointment only and one needed to call ahead of time. While we gathered our thoughts and tried to devise a plan to get back to town without a bus, we wandered around the dark shed looking at huge horrific photographs of people with smallpox lining the walls.

The Quarantine Station, we read on the plaques by the one suspended and bare lightbulb in the middle of the shed, was where crowded ships were diverted and landed when there was the suspicion of a smallpox outbreak on board. All passengers were unloaded and herded like cattle into huge and painful acid showers in an attempt to "decontaminate" them. After this ordeal, everyone was forced to stay at the station under quarantine for at least three weeks, all within sight of their final destination, the city of Sydney. Apparently, both the acid showers and the hospital are well known for the high levels of "paranormal" activity that takes place there.

Sufficiently creeped out and cold at this point, we wondered what on earth we were going to do. I wandered outside and just looked out into the blackness, blaming myself for getting my cousins into this mess. Suddenly, a man walked out of the dark and gave me an awful start! He was quite friendly, said hello, and asked if I needed any help; his name was Robert and according to his name tag he was a shuttle driver at the Station. Once I had my wits about me again, I told him what our situation was and he offered to give us all a bus tour of the place in his little shuttle bus, *and* to drive us back to town afterwards. We accepted and climbed aboard the bus.

"Robert the Bus Driver" showed us around the Quarantine Station for about an hour an a half, and even let us into the museum for a run-through and the acid showers to "feel the paranormal activity". It was really creepy and cold in there...I made myself slowly...walk...in...and out of the showers. Brrr. Celeste hid her face in my arm when we got back on the bus she was so frightened.

On the way back to town, Robert told us about the actual Ghost Walk, where you walk around the place accompanied by a medium! We looked at each other in horror: I had no idea that was part of the Walk. Praise God we missed it! It was definitely Providence that helped us out of that one. How horrible that would have been.

Robert dropped us off at the wharf, we all bid a fond goodbye, and we headed back to Randwick and warm sleeping bags. The French and Malaysians were gone and we had the entire physical therapy room to ourselves, so Steven stayed with us on the floor.

Note

I am going away for the weekend, so "Day 8" will be the last post until Monday. Stay tuned! :)

Day 8: The Blue Mountains

I was up and about before the sun on our first real day as tourists rather than pilgrims. Apparently French clergy also wake up at ungodly hours, because I found myself in line to wash up between two French priests. But even they needed their cup of coffee in the morning, something they hadn’t had as yet or so I surmised from their remarks au Francais to one another over my head.

After I was ready, I roused Celeste and went to breakfast in the cafeteria while I waited for her. We ate a quick meal of Wheetabix, prunes, and toast and were off to the bus stop, proudly wearing our brightly colored WYD backpacks and with a bounce in our step. Because we were still unfamiliar with the bus route, we ended up getting off a little ways before our stop and had to walk the rest of the way to the YHA (Youth Hostel Australia) where we were told to meet our tourbus.

Our tourguide, John, a middle-aged man with long gray hair he pulled back into a ponytail, sunglasses, and a gentle Aussie accent, picked us up about half an hour late to take us to the Blue Mountains for the day. On our way out of the city, he picked up a group of pilgrims from Texas, a group from Brazil, and a guy from NC who was just visiting Sydney on his way to the outback. The merry group completed, we continued the two hour drive out to the foothills of the Blue Mountains, a World Heritage Site.

Why are the Blue Mountains blue? No one seems to know. The name is misleading as well, since the Blue Mountains are not mountains at all, but a plateau full of eroded gorges. And the site is not simply a geological beauty; the plateau has a thick layer of coal throughout the gorges, the remnant of the lush tropical rainforests that used to cover New South Wales. A large amount of coal exported from Australia is mined in the Blue Mountains.

Upon our arrival in the foothills, we all got out of the van to stretch our legs a bit. To our delight we spied two adult kangaroos grazing on grass along the edges of the wood where we stopped. We were able to get pretty close (about four feet away) from the creatures. It was my first glimpse of a real-life kangaroo and I must admit I was really excited! One of the ‘roos even had a joey in the pouch, which was absolutely adorable.

When the kangaroos had hopped away, John led us over to a low wooden table where he had set out supplies for coffee and tea: hot water, instant coffee, tea bags, sugar and milk. He told us about the different kinds of wildlife in the area while we finished waking up. Then we were back in the van and off to the top of the plateau, via a deli where most of us bought sandwiches for lunch.

At the top, John split us up into two groups, one that would continue in the van for the next three hours, and one that would follow Dennis (another tourguide who met us at this point) for a three-hour hike down into one of the gorges and back up again. Both Celeste and I were in this latter group, along with some of the Texans, the realtor from NC, and all the Brazilians. Soon enough we were off at a fast clip down the side of the gorge.

We enjoyed a lively three hours eating berries from the bushes along the trail, snapping pictures of strange plants, chatting with the North Carolinian about his trip and with the Texans (who seemed to think I was in high school), and simply taking in the waterfalls, cliffs, and other sights we encountered along the way. It was at about this point that one of the Brazilians – the only one who spoke relatively good English – started flirting with me. We hit it off pretty well, I would say, despite the language barrier. (Below: my Brazilian friend)

Tired but happy, we eventually met up with John again and his van. The drive back to Sydney seemed long, perhaps only because I was falling asleep the whole time. I couldn’t believe how cold it was outside! How strange to leave the United States during summer and visit Sydney in the wintertime. I never thought I’d be wearing a heavy coat and scarf in July. (Below: The famous Three Sisters rock formation in the Blue Mountains)

We climbed out of the van in Sydney, and I was promptly stopped by my delighted Brazilian friend who alighted at the same stop. He invited me out for dinner and drinks, but alas! I didn’t feel right bringing Celeste wherever he wanted to go and was forced to turn down his offer. I consoled him by giving him my contact info, and Leste and I made our way to the local McDonalds for a cheap (thanks to the free passes handed out for WYD), quick dinner. I suppose we could have gone on to the convent for dinner, but neither of us relished the idea of serving 200 French pilgrims again so soon.

We rolled back into the convent at around 9PM and went to bed. I think I fell asleep before my head hit the pillow! (Wait – what pillow?) Our cousins were nowhere to be found, having gone to a show that night at the Lyric.

Day 7: Spoons and Darling Harbor

Everyone slept in a bit this morning in an attempt to recover from the night/day at Randwick on Saturday. The girls were off of school until Thursday, so when we were finished breakfast Celeste and I rolled up our sleeves to teach our host family a new game: spoons! Ah, the delights of spoons. I treasure fond memories of spoons tournaments at family reunions, sometimes resulting in dramatics injuries. Thankfully, our host family was less – may I say? – violent and no one was hurt. They were kind enough to compliment us on our excellent card-shuffling skills as well.

After the spoons game, we bid our “Australian family” farewell and Alma drove us to the train station with all our baggage. We took the train to Central Station, and hopped on a bus from there that would take us out to the Little Sisters of the Poor convent right next door (practically!) to Randwick Racecourse.

The residence/convent in Randwick was huge and they had about 240 pilgrims from France and Brazil staying there when we arrived. We deposited our things in a linen closet until the Sisters could find somewhere for us to sleep, and we followed Sister Julie (from Washington DC) to the kitchen where she promised to find us some lunch. One of the volunteers, a wonderful lady named Anita, gave us some food which we quickly ate before offering our assistance in serving the roughly one hundred hungry French pilgrims who had just come into the cafeteria.

An hour and a great deal of running around later, Celeste and I grabbed our little backpacks and caught the bus back to downtown Sydney to run some errands. Since our transport passes only extended through 7/21, the first thing on my list was to buy week-long combo tickets for unlimited bus, train, and ferry rides. Praise God, the woman at the ticket window was very patient and helped me choose the cheapest ticket option (which only cost $43) rather than the one I planned to buy which cost $180 per person. What a lifesaver!

While we were trying to decide what to do with the rest of our afternoon, Celeste snapping pictures of the Harbor and me wading through the dozens of maps and brochures I had collected, our cousins called. They had dropped their luggage off at the convent earlier in the morning, had by now finished their errands, and wanted to meet. We selected a meeting spot near the wharves and were soon a happy group of five (Steven was too tired and stayed back at the convent). Meanwhile, Rob called (three times for 30 seconds each!) and wanted to meet up with us as well. The Walkers wanted to do some souvenir shopping at the Hyde Park WYD tent, so I told Rob we would meet him there.

I snapped pictures of the fountain and was startled out of my wits by a curious policeman peering over my shoulder; Celeste continued to absentmindedly take pictures of everything around her; and the Walkers went shopping. Eventually, Rob met up with us – much to his dismay, he was the only guy with Steven out of action – and we decided that dinner would be an excellent idea. Off we went to Darling Harbor to find something to eat.

Without too much difficulty, we found a place on the Harbor with reasonably-priced meat pies (famous in Australia) and secured a table. The back-and-forth between five women and the one guy at the table was quite amusing, and Rob held his own stunningly. When we were finished we walked around Darling a bit until Anne remembered that she needed to buy hairpins. Rob groaned – he is constantly teasing about female shopping habits – and accompanied us to Woolworths to find the hairpins. Rob and I meandered about the store awhile, catching up on CUA news, and Rob tracked down some saline solution for our contact lenses since we had (ridiculously) forgotten to pack any. (Below: dinner at Darling Harbor!)

At this point Rob split off from the group and headed back to the hostel where he was staying, and the rest of us headed back to the convent. Our things had been moved the physical therapy room, where we all spent the night cozily on the floor with forty other girls from France and Spain. Ah the joys of being a WYD pilgrim!

Photo Supplement!

Again, with a hat tip to Celeste and her stunning skills in photography.

Supper at Randwick over our sleeping bags.

Celeste, Anne and Janice try to keep warm on an Australian winter night!

Rob: "Stop taking pictures of me."

Smile for the camera!

Pope Benedict's reaction to the announcement of the 2011 WYD in Madrid.

Post-Randwick. We didn't want to walk another step.

Posing with Dominique and Joe, our Catechesis leaders.

Day 6: The Closing Mass

The night at Randwick really blended together with the next morning, as a group of pilgrims behind us woke our group up at roughly 3AM with their bongo-drum playing. Eventually they tired of playing drums, and we fell back to sleep until ~5AM, when a cheer was started from the back of the racecourse (“Wake up the pilgrims!” :::clapclap clapclap clapclap::: ad infinitum) to wake up 200,000 pilgrims for the Closing Mass of WYD ’08. (Below: the pilgrims begin to wake up. Above: Wake up, Celeste!)

We ate breakfast while still curled up in our sleeping bags, and joined in Morning Prayer led by a group of seminarians far away on the stage. We were still trying to get up the courage to crawl out of our sleeping bags into the cold morning air when the Pope’s helicopter flew overhead. I jumped out to wave “good morning” to the Holy Father. The helicopter soon landed and the Pope began his long trek back and forth through the crowd in his Popemobile to greet the pilgrims. The Closing Mass was open to the public, so at this point there were about 350,000 pilgrims present at least. Once again I was within 20 feet of the Holy Father. These are moments you never forget. (Below: Steven snaps a picture of the Holy Father as he passes by)

After the Mass, the Holy Father announced the location of WYD 2011: Madrid, Spain! We had had “Catholic bets” going of rosaries, etc. for the past few days about where it would be held, and I came out on top so I was quite pleased. The Pope was adorable and obviously excited to announce the next WYD. We are incredibly blessed to have such a Holy Father at this time. I love him to death and just want to give him a hug.

We began our long trek back to our accommodations (it wasn’t a 10k, but it was 4k to the nearest rail station) and in the meantime lost our Indiana friends in the crowd. Once we were back at Belmore, the Sukkars hadn’t come back yet from Randwick themselves so Leste and I went out to a little Turkish shop in town for pizza (for Leste) and pide (for me) and chatted with Fr. Augustine, the pastor of St. Joseph’s who is originally from India. Eventually the buses from St. Joseph’s came back (with the Sukkars on board) and Leste and I said our goodbyes to Joe and Dominique before going to dinner with the Sukkars at a local Thai restaurant. Yum! (Below: Central train station post-Randwick)

After nice hot showers at their house, we all curled up on the couches in their living room with steaming cups of coffee and plates of the famous Lebonese sweets to watch the network coverage of the Closing Mass. Robert’s brother joined us for a while as well, and soon Leste and I drifted off to bed and sleep.

Day 5: The Pilgrimage

While it was still dark in Belmore, Celeste and I arose and packed our things for the overnight stay at Randwick. Stealthily, we gulped down our coffee without waking Alma (or so we thought), and snuck out of the house. Well, it turns out that she was awake and in fact beat us to the car and insisted on driving us to St. Joseph’s, where we were meeting Katerina and Theresa to begin the long day. Together, and armed with sleeping bags and floor pads, the four of us caught the train to the Domain for the U.S. Gathering and Mass. (Above: our cousin Janice at the US Gathering!)

Cardinal Francis George (from Chicago) celebrated the Mass, and a large number of U.S. Cardinals concelebrated, including our own Cardinal McCarrick from Washington, DC. It was really refreshing to hear American accents again – who knew that we would miss them so much? The music for the Mass was provided by popular worship leader Steve Angrisano and…wait for it…MATT MAHER! I have to admit one of the coolest moments of the trip was seeing Matt bow and receive Communion on the tongue.

Also, I saw another familiar face at the Domain: that of (now) Father John Rapisarda from Baltimore, MD. I am always crossing paths with that guy! We actually met back at Mount 2008 at Mt. St. Mary’s in Emmitsburg while he was a Deacon, and chatted awhile. He has such a cheery manner and gentle disposition, and is just one of those people who you know is anchored securely to the bedrock foundation of our Catholic faith.

After Mass the cousins and I gathered along with our Indiana friends to begin the arduous 10k pilgrim walk to Randwick Racecourse outside of Sydney. At this point the general giddiness was at its height throughout the city, and Sydnians came out in droves to wave at the pilgrims and cheer us on from the walkways, buildings, and sidestreets. It felt – truly – like the story in the Bible about King David dancing in front of the Ark of the Covenant. The pilgrims were singing and dancing their way to Randwick, across the Harbor Bridge and through the streets of Sydney. (Below: pilgrims walk across the Harbor Bridge)

During the pilgrim walk we had one of the most amazing encounters of the entire trip. We spent part of the walk marching alongside a large group of pilgrims from Iraq. When we first realized where they were from and fearful of starting some kind of international incident in a politically charged situation, we sort of put our heads down and tried to look inconspicuous (with our U.S. flags sticking out everywhere, of course). Suddenly, we heard a cheer from the left (where the Iraqi group was) of: “God Bless America! God Bless America! God Bless America!” There were brilliant smiles on our fellow pilgrims’ faces, and we responded likewise with a jubilant “God bless Iraq! God bless Iraq! God bless Iraq!” It gives me goosebumps just to recall the moment. (Below: pilgrims walk through a residential area of Sydney)

When we finally arrived at Randwick, we realized that we were such a small group that we could probably get away with sitting away from our assigned area (i.e. wherever we could fit) so we sought the perfect spot. Our little group split up to maximize our search area. Celeste and I found ourselves alone, and lo and behold we spied a dear seminarian friend of mine – Rob – asking for information from a volunteer! There were cheery greetings all around before Leste and I headed off to find a good spot. We all ended up setting up camp in I5, where we couldn’t see the stage at all but we had an excellent view of one of the giant screens set up “for our convenience”.

Our group settled down and started a card game with some friends of our cousins while we waited for the Evening Vigil with the Pope to start. Celeste expressed an interest in a cup of hot chocolate, so I went with her to buy one. By happenstance we “ran into” Rob again, and he accompanied us to the hot chocolate tent and then came back to hang out at our campsite. We all had a great time, and he spent the rest of the evening with us.

The Holy Father arrived for the Evening Vigil, and after Adoration (in front of an impressive 8 ft. monstrance!) the Pope did Benediction. It was truly amazing to have the Pope bless the crowd. I was breathless.

(Above: Randwick at sunset) As soon as the Holy Father left, we all said goodnight, Rob left, and everyone fell right to sleep under the stars. My last memory of the night is of a clear, beautiful sky full of stars over my head.

Video Supplement: Rowdy Germans on the train!

Photo Supplement!

I have begged Celeste to let me post some of her pictures as we go along, because many of hers are better than mine, and she granted permission. With all due credit....

Above: Me, along with my hard-core Kelty backpack.

Matt signing autographs at the Love and Life Site.

That's me with MATT MAHER!!!! How cool is that?!

Taking in my second Matt Maher concert at Bondi Beach.

Leste and I pose with our host family.

The Holy Father arrives!

Christina hangs on my arm as we watch the Pope's arrival on the screens.

A Happy Birthday in Sydney, Australia!

Day 4: Stations of the Cross

The day started early once again, and we got dressed quickly in several layers to try to beat the freezing cold. After the usual steaming hot cup of coffee with Alma, the younger girls woke up and the family surprised me with a birthday party, complete with chocolate cake and strawberry jelly (translation: jello). It was so nice of the Sukkars – I couldn’t believe it! They barely knew me and already they were throwing surprise parties.

Alma dropped us off at St. Joseph’s as usual for our final day of Catechesis. There were three things on the schedule for the day: the bishop from Bangladesh was to deliver the homily and celebrate Mass, it was tattoo day (we were all instructed ahead of time to wear our WYD08 tattoos provided in the backpacks somewhere visible), and banner day! For banner day we had to arrive a little early and decorate a banner for our group/parish to carry up in the procession during Mass. Celeste and I took great pride in putting together our “group of two” banner for St. Mary of the Assumption Catholic Church. I wish more parishioners had been able to be there. (Yes, that is our banner above. Check out my amazing artistic abilities! Hm - I've always been a better musician...)

As soon as Mass was over, we headed to our assigned site at Barangaroo to watch the Stations of the Cross. Because they closed Barangaroo early, we had to arrive a couple hours before Stations began. Meanwhile, we spread out one of our emergency blankets and I took notes for this travel log while Celeste dutifully wrote postcards. A couple guys from Perth were cruising around and introduced themselves. They hung out with us for a while and stuck around for Stations. (Below: the train filled with pilgrims and a couple smooshed citizens)

I found it fascinating to chat with more University students from Australia. After we got over THE QUESTION, I was able to ask them a couple questions about themselves and about their career prospects. One of the fellows was a student in medical school, and I made a comment about medical school paying off in the end. He corrected me and said that, in fact, truck drivers and miners with no secondary schooling at all make much more than doctors and other professionals.

I have heard that Stations were quite moving, but unfortunately we were situated so that we could neither see the stage at Barangaroo nor the large screens set up “for our convenience”. Out of the venues in Sydney, Barangaroo was by far my least favorite. It was just a wide flat concrete space on the harbor, with freezing cold wind coming off the water. I suppose that the flatness of the space was good for fitting more people, but it was horrible if you wanted to see anything at all.

(Above: Celeste digs into mystery stew, which we later found out contained lamb) When Stations were finished and the crowd thinned a bit, Leste and I pushed our way up towards the stage and laid our blanket down again for the “Receive the Power” concert. Thankfully, the cousins were able to meet us at this point. The concert was headlined by Hillsong (apparently popular in Australia, although I admit I wasn’t too impressed), speakers Sam Clear and John Pridmore, and (of course!) MATT MAHER! You just can’t have too much of Matt. (Below: Matt Maher at the "Receive the Power" concert)

As soon as Matt finished playing and before the concert was over, we all headed back to the train to go home. Celeste and I found ourselves traveling with a group of eight very rowdy Germans singing auf Deutsch at the top of their lungs all the way back to Belmore. I was happy to have an opportunity to practice some of my mean German-language skills.