Illegal Immigration and Four Flights of Stairs

"Guten Tag! Könnten Sie mir bitte helfen? Ich muss diese Platz finden." (I gestured to the address I had written down before leaving America on Monday). "What!? 45 francs?!

And just like that, my German went out the window for the rest of the day. So I traipsed back into the airport to buy a bus pass; no ridiculously priced taxis for me. Mind you, I had already trekked all around the airport for the last half an hour trying to find a working ATM, someone to stamp my passport (I was convinced I had illegally entered the country), and someone to explain public transportation to me. I ended up with no ATM, no passport stamp, and a bus pass for the rest of the month.

Originally, I had intended to pack only one suitcase thinking that lugging my luggage all over town would be a little rough. Boy, was I right, two was too many. Although I tried my best to follow my housemates' instructions, naturally, I boarded the right bus and rode it the wrong way. After getting on and off three times at the end point, the bus driver offered to help. Once again, I tried to use my German, and perhaps it was a good sign for my accent that he thought my native language was Spanish. Eventually the lovely bus driver showed me where to get off and gave me a map. He then had people at the front of the bus call to me in German when I was supposed to depart. It was terrifying. As long as I don't open my mouth here and try not to look confused, no one can tell I am from America. Here was a whole bus of 20 people speaking to me in German and English simultaneously while pointing out the window.

An hour later than expected, I finally showed up at my apartment building to find that my room is about four flights of spiral stairs up. As often as I have learned this lesson, I just keep messing it up. When one travels, one must be able to carry one's own things.