Greetings from Frankfurt airport! I have nothing special to say, but it just feels especially modern and sophisticated to be able to sit in a European airport cafe and post to the same blog that I would from home. German was the language that I took in high school, but it appears to have completely fled my brain; when I try to talk to any of the airport staff, it comes out in French, and I don’t even speak French. Fortunately they all speak English, as nobody is surprised to hear. Unfortunately, Germany seems to be one of those benighted countries in which the default mode for cappuccino is to have cinnamon on top.
No sleep on the flight over. All of my immediate neighbors were part of a single group, who seemed new to the concept of transatlantic travel, and thought it would be fun to chat the night away rather than grabbing a precious hour or two of sleep. What kind of group was it, you may ask? Well, they were going to Athens. For the Olympics. But not to actually watch the sporting events. No, they were going to be handing out tracts to passers-by, trying to persuade them to accept Jesus as their savior. (Chick tracts? I don’t know, and feared to ask.) I alternated between reading the latest Harry Potter book (now out in paperback) and working on a paper on the Big Bang — so I don’t know if they didn’t proselytize to me because they were saving their energies for Greece, or because they had given up on me without even trying.
Okay, so I did have something to say. I’m just too exhausted to say it in any sort of nuanced way.