Today begins my two week stay in the famous (infamous?) city of Nuremberg, in Germany's heavily-wooded, incredibly beautiful Bavaria region. I've been welcomed into the home of my charming host family, and am currently staring out of my bedroom window onto roofs tiled with terracotta, aluminum, and more to give it a multicolored landscape that mirrors the city. The buildings vary in style, reflecting he history that saw so much of the city demolished in the war. Even the historic-appearing buildings are usually not so, instead being carefully crafted blocks of flats based on what had originally stood there before the bombs fell. I am lucky enough to be in one of the few historic apartment buildings, on the fourth floor with a rare balcony that plays host to a small collection of plants cared for by Ann and her two children.
I am thrilled to be here with writers from across the globe (Romania, Scotland, Nicaragua, China, Italy and more) as part of the Hermann Kesten grant, which brings writers and journalists from Nuremberg's twin cities to build relationships and dispel stereotypes and old fashioned images.
Hopefully as the stay continues my writing will find a better direction and become less stilted. For now I will blame the stagnant style of this post on jet-lag, as I have only been in the country a few hours. There has got to be a more imaginative way for me to portray my experiences. Maybe it's just the sides affects of too much cabin pressure and bad airplane food. Surely that is enough to kill any creative urges.
"Bis morgen" (until tomorrow) then!
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