The pedals feel familiar under my feet as the bicycle wheels turn toward town. I've ridden these bike paths so many times before, though not recently. I know I'll find the way, even though I cannot picture the route ahead in my mind. I trust that one street will lead to another and eventually bring me into the heart of this medium-sized German village, large enough to have a post office, yet too small for its own movie theater. A church chimes the hour. Paved road gives way to cobblestone. The government office I seek is located within the local castle grounds, the place I was married and my son was also christened. Eventually I find the right door marked "Tyrant for Foreigner's Gripes" or something to that effect, only to discover that this particular office is closed on Wednesdays. All the other functions in the place are available, only the particular bureaucrat I need has the day off. How convenient.
My still virgin passport and I peddle towards home defeated. On the way we stop at my bank to open a new account. Yes, internet banking is available. No, downloading my bank data into a spreadsheet as I do in the US is not. After much clicking and information-entering, my painfully new customer service representative informs me that the system is down and could i please make an appointment for the next day to sign the paperwork? As I was leaving for Hamburg that afternoon, this would be impossible, so we agree I will return on a week from Friday.
As usual, a morning that should have been full of accomplished tasks has been slurped up by life's annoyances. Pushing tires over well traveled paths, I make my way back to my family. We pack, schlep to the train, endure a slightly delay departure time, and ride to Hamburg.
Comments