A Day in the Life

I slept in today. This morning Kathleen went to the dentist because her tooth has been bothering her. She tells me later that she went in (without an appointment), they found a cavity, they drilled and filled it back up, and they let her go, and it didn't cost her a dime. It is at this point that we have the requisite Health Insurance Debate, which involves me telling her about the American health care system and her saying things like "What!?" and "No!!"

Christian lends me his bicycle, which happens to be this top-of-the-line French model that surely costs thousands of dollars and possibly was developed by aerospace engineers. Me and Kathleen are riding our bicycles to the banks of the Rhein today, through the busy thoroughfares of Wiesbaden, and we are going to take a ferry down the river. We carry our bikes down the four floors of her flat and put on our sunglasses. "Are you a good bicyclist?" she asks me.

"Of course." I lie.

"Follow me." And she's off, and I immediately get my pant leg stuck in the gears. I kick my leg out to break free and already I am behind, and without having time to figure out the gearshifts I speed off, trying not to lose sight of her as she's weaving in and out of parked cars on a sidestreet. Germans do NOT wander about aimlessly; they know where they are going, and they get there as fast as possible. We bomb down a hill and I finally catch up as we enter a residential area, full of greenery and gardens and narrow cobblestone roads and pubs smaller than my bedroom back at home. It is What You Would Imagine.

We get to the river and buy ice cream that we can eat while we watch the ferries float by. Kids zoom past on Rollerblades and there is a group of men fishing down on the banks. The Rhein is calm and inviting.







Alas, the ferry never stops, and as the sun starts to set, we head back to the flat, where Simona is preparing a birthday cake for herself and anybody who would like a piece, and she makes it clear that everyone can have some "as long as you don't get angry with me if you get sick or something." Deal. Her birthday is tomorrow so we can't dig in until midnight.

But what are we going to do until then? Hey! I know! We should drink!

"Great idea!" I am told, and we wander around for an open pub. It is Monday night and the streets are quiet. We get lucky and find a place with outdoor seating. "Please excuse my terrible English," Simona tells me before launching into a lengthy discussion about climate change, photosynthesis, and manipulating the chemical bonds of Carbon-based compounds. This is Not What I Expected, That's For Sure. The pub closes and we are kicked out, and we are sad, but then we remember about the cake, and we are happy again, and we make our way back to the flat. We own the streets and we own the night, and for one person at least, another year comes and goes. And of all people, she has to spend it with a funny-looking American who also happens to be a very, very bad tipper.



TJH