Not everyone gets the opportunity to spend extended time on the Autobahnen, or even drive them at all. So to many, it may seem odd that a blast down A-27 – or any highway, really – could warrant a post about Autobahn-induced spousal homesickness. But this involved a coincidental encounter that completely justified her pinings for native grounds.
Our marriage was less than a month old, and save for the brief honeymoon at a SC beach, our time together was all in Germany. The immersion tracked with the expatriation paradigm, with wonderful newness soon replaced by noticing how different Germany can be compared with, well, anywhere. C’mon – stores not open past noon on Saturdays (except for one Langer Samstag per month that granted a whopping four hour extension) and heavens-no on Sunday? Throw in parsimonious smiles, warmth, English, etc. from the very formal Northern Germans; a two-week summer courtesy of the North Sea’s proximity; etc., and you get the picture: honeymoon over.