600 days and more into this 'adventure' I like to call Germany, and I can't help but not think I'm crazy for agreeing to live in the 'Queen's' land of Hanover, Germany.
A complicated/short/long/unnecesary background into the reasons/madness/problems of coming to Hanover.
The short story: I came for love.
The elaborated short story on love: I came to Hanover to live because my boyfriend/dear-heart/partner-in-crime lives here. We met in London where I was getting my masters and where he was doing an exchange program between the University College of London and University of Hanover. He was only there for three months. I guess that was enough time to hook, line, and sinker my sorry heart and three years later, and to my surprise, I'm still hooked. I was finished with my masters and the time came to make a decision: break up and go back to my native Ohio/USA/any state that didn't have an unemployment rate the size of a small country, OR I could take/push/deceive myself into moving to Hanover. Needless to say, I took the choice of the latter. And here I am, almost two years later half fluent/jobless/sane BUT however, in a new, better, and prettier apartment.
I think I should be something of a negotiator, because the way I'm able to talk myself into really, truly, and honestly believing something seems to amaze me. To me, moving to another country for love is NOT in any case a good excuse. For all purposes, and all logical reasons, and after thinking about it for almost 2 years, coming to a country for love is actually a very good reason. People do it all the time...after saying that...I still can't admit that it IS a good idea. I can only admit that it's a good idea in theory. Naturally, I have to come up with some other reason to move to Germany. 'I'll LEARN a new language.' - Surely this is a quality that will be invaluable to me! 'I'll make some money by freelance teaching using my native language.' - Ah yes, what a great idea! I don't think there's any better way to make your life MORE tormenting, than to have the most irregular hours/horrid pay/unappreciated profession. What a wonderful choice.
But, looking up, as my good friend always does, I can defiantly say this: trying to scrape your way through doing what you need to do in order to get a step further to your goal isn't a bad thing.
But now, looking down, as I always do: It sure is fucking hard.
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