Funny thing about those road signs ...

So prior to moving here, I was a wee nervous. I had never lived in a foreign country; I did not sprechen this new language. Relax! everyone told me. An army base is just a little America, you’ll feel right at home! Let’s think a moment about the home I was just leaving: 114 degrees, covered with dirt (they call it sand, but come on, it’s dirt), palm trees, cacti, swimming pools and a Sonic on every corner. This was a good home. Driving in the van that picked us up from the Frankfurt airport I saw giant green trees, tiny white cottages, an alarming number of goats, and tiny old ladies riding bikes everywhere. Yep, pretty sure Germany is a little different than Arizona. But I did not give up hope – any minute I would see the good ol’ red-white-and-blue waving over an assortment of fast-food restaurants and – oh, I could only dream! – a Target. We made it to the army post in Grafenwoehr. I was ready for a personal greeting from Uncle Sam, and, possibly, a fireworks display that night (I’m a bit of a patriot, you know). The van drove through the check point where we were let in by German security officers. We drove down a street called “Neustadt Strasse.” The sign at the hotel said “Wilkommen.” Hmmmm. I knew we were on the base, but still no signs of America. The following morning I set out to find the great U.S. of A. I walked down to the commissary (a fancy military word for bad grocery store), where I was greeted in German, scolded in German for not using the correct tongs to select my pretzel, and helped out by a German cashier. Not wanting to get lost, I had taken note of the street name our hotel was on: Einbanstrasse. Got it. Exiting the commissary, I turned on to Einbanstrasse to head home. I reached a T-junction, where Einbanstrasse split. That’s interesting. I followed it to the right, where it split again! I was following the street back to my hotel, right? Then why was I on the other side of the post, trucking along the tank trail with my stroller? German lesson No. 1: “Einbanstrasse” means “one-way street.”

This information has since served me well. As for my little America: I did discover a Taco Bell. But the America part is limited to that and the offensively large SUVs parading up and down the years-old cobblestone roads. Watch out, old cycling ladies!