Going German - The Adventure Begins

            In order to go Greek for a year, I first must go German - for all of three hours; still, it's longer than I thought I would be spending in the land of pretzels and red-roofed houses.  Banking on a quick flight change, I purchased a ticket for an 8:55 am flight out of Germany with an arrival time in Munich of 8:00 am.  After a delay of six minutes, a passport check, and a slow but unharried security line, I arrived at my gate at 8:50 to find it almost deserted and a screen reading "Flight Closed."  So, eating my free German pretzel and drinking my free German ViO water (courtesy of the Lufthansa service desk), I have stopped to remark on my interesting, if sleep-deprived, experiences.  

            I left my parents in Charlotte at 4:00 pm yesterday and boarded an eight hour flight to Munich, on which I watched a movie that I had already seen, listened to French pop music, and made small talk with the passenger next to me who is likely currently on route to Istanbul as I write this post.  I did not, however, sleep - I, a person notorious for falling asleep on 20 minute car rides, could not manage to sleep even for an half hour. 

            I saw the sunset as we flew over Canada, the orange and red arcing behind us in the west.  I lifted my window shade to find the sunrise on the horizon as we flew over Ireland.  And I watched as we descended low enough to see white, red-roofed houses proliferate as we approached Munich.  I'm already firmly in the first stage described of ex-pats, the "awe" stage, and I haven't even reached my destination yet!  Speaking of which, I need to figure out exactly how to call and let my ride know that I will be arriving in Athens a couple of hours later than expected... I'm going to go get my free coffee and figure out the nearest pay phone.  At least most everything is translated into English thus far; it may cut down on the exotic feel, but it certainly is useful.