I knocked on the leather colored oak door, and stood a moment in the cool breeze, taking in the fragrant German air. I had finally made it, and I couldn't wait to learn German. The door swung open. "Hallo," I said "Ich bin Keith." They were expecting me. "Guten Tag," they responded. "Wo ist mein Zimmer?" I asked, eager to put down my two suitcases. "Upstairs," they replied. I quickly exhausted the medicore German I'd learned before the trip, "That's all I know," I started. "That's okay," my German family reassured me. "I'm hopeing I learn quickly," I said. "Oh," they said "well, we only speak English."
It was the worst dream I've ever had. Well you know, in awhile, and you can't count the one where I broke my bass guitar because at the time that was too awful for words. But I was only a dream. In a way you have to like bad dreams, because there is always that moment when you realize that it was all just a dream. Relief is one of the best feelings.