Day 355: Three matters before the end

The last week is undoubtedly the most stressful. I have to wrap up everything I started, pack all the stuff I’ve accumulated over the past year, and say goodbye to all the people I’m leaving behind in Dresden. It’s so much…

First, the bureaucracy. I spend every morning of the week dealing with paperwork, 90% of the time just standing in line: At the faculty, getting my Erasmus coordinator to sign my learning agreement, the piece of paper listing all the grades I’ve earned in Germany and which will be used to validate my courses in Spain. At the O2 store, my mobile phone company, cursing them to high heaven while trying (unsuccessfully) to cancel my phone contract. At the bank, closing the account they forced me to open. At city hall, deregistering my residence. At the international students office, cancelling my enrollment. There, at the student office, I saw the trophy that the international students’ football team won in the university championship. I went closer to see the photo—I know them all, and very few of that team are still in Dresden. I remember how the Brazilians from the team told me over beers one night at the Erasmus bar how angry the Germans were when they saw that the trophy from the university’s most hotly contested championship had gone to a group of foreigners.

Second, I don’t understand how I’ve managed to accumulate so many things in just one year. Why didn’t my dad take the gloves, scarves, mittens, and winter hat when he came in June? Thank goodness my friends already took the printer! I pack all the books in a backpack, fitting them together like Tetris pieces. Paper is very dense, and I’ll carry the full backpack on the plane as hand luggage. I pack the heavy, non-fragile things in a box. I’ll send this box to Spain by post, because the post office only charges me €2 per kilo, while the airline will charge €6 per kilo. And then the suitcase—while I’m packing it, I hear the Spanish basketball team winning the Basketball World Cup final. As they receive their medals, Spain’s national anthem plays on the radio; I turn the speakers up to full volume and put them out the window. The anthem echoes throughout Bernhardstrasse.

And third, the farewells. It’s not easy to say goodbye. There are many friends I’ll probably never see again (though who knows—fate is whimsical, and our paths may cross again someday). But it’s not easy to say goodbye even to the people you know you will see again, because you’re saying goodbye to the person in this context: “I’ll see you again, but it won’t be the same; I won’t be a carefree Erasmus student anymore, and you’ve probably changed too.” Some people you say goodbye to quickly, with a handshake, a kiss, or a hug. With others you need, at the very least, a dinner. I organize my last week so I can see everyone: I have a last dinner with my tandem partner (the girl I did the language exchange with), Eugenio invites me to his place for Asturian bean stew, I enjoy my last dönerstag (since Thursday in German is Donnerstag and Tag means day, every Thursday during my Erasmus we met to eat a döner), one night I stay up late playing mus with my flatmates (Anton gives me a little bottle of vodka from Belarus), and I go to countless farewell dinners for people leaving before me.

Now that I’ve more or less wrapped everything up, the hardest part arrives: picking up the suitcase, closing the door behind you, and turning the page.

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