The Things I've Learned.

As the train coasted to a stop in the town of Freiburg I looked out the window and thought, I should've brought a rain coat.

The entire time I was there it poured. I'm not talking Seattle drizzle that likes to pester us by not letting up from about late October to June, either. I'm talking New York rain. Walls of water angrily pelting you so that you're dripping wet after 8 seconds. But unlike New York it didn't stop after 10 minutes. It stopped while I was boarding the train for Munich two days later. 

Despite being freezing, I will say this: Freiburg might be the cutest little town I've ever seen. The impression I had as I made my way to the Black Forest Hostel was that it was a town I could see myself living in if I ever develop an urge to move to Germany.
Everything in Freiburg is cobblestone and fairy-tale architecture.  It's a small university community tucked next to the very edge of The Black Forest. (Hence the clever name of my hostel, which sat at the base of a steep, sloping winery which was visible every morning through a thin fog.)
This is the famed forest that Hansel and Gretl disappeared into.

Because of the rain I stayed inside for most of my two days, so I didnt get any pictures unfortunately.
The one time I did leave was my "quick run" to the grocery store where, and this will surprise zero percent of the people who know me well, I got lost.
Badly.

Apparently, according to the girl at the front desk of the hostel, the store was only a half mile. Making no other stops but to buy my food, I returned almost 3 hours later, and after a lot of help from outrageously friendly Germans.
But, I would like to say (and think) I would bet many people would have had troubles getting to the store. Albeit, maybe not as many, but...

That would be the one negative comment I could make about Freiburg. It's hard to navigate. Street names change from one winding block to the next, and one twisty street may be only one letter off from being called the same thing as another going the opposite direction.

Because of the weather I spent most of my experience in town locked inside with all the other travelers at Black Forest Hostel and, more specifically, with the Latvian musicians that had gotten stranded there after getting "wine poisoning."
I'm still not sure whether it was the amount they drank or the actual brand that did them in but, either way, I was happy to have them for company.
My last night was spent cooking a big spaghetti dinner with them, sharing some bread they'd brought in France, and the two of them splitting what they dubbed "a safe" bottle of wine.

The next morning I decided to buy a new pair of shoes. Mistakenly, I brought only two pairs of flip-flops (one of which went mysteriously missing in D.C) and a pair of slipper boots I bought in New York last October.
Neither were particularly appropriate for the weather and it had come down to me choosing between wearing shoes that allowed every little pebble to lodge itself in my foot, or the ones that were soaking through and giving me blisters.

A brief amount of perusing led me straight to a gorgeous pair of boots and I was excited when I found the tag marked 38. I did some quick math and figured, Well...what the hell? That's only 50 bucks US. Why not?
I looked for my size, but couldn't see where it was printed, so I tried shoving my feet into the ones on display. They fit perfectly! As if they'd been custom made! However, as I brought my feet back out I had a sticky tag plastered to my foot. It said 199 Euro.
Quickly I deduced that 38 wasn't the price, threw my slipper boots back on, and ran out the door and away from horrendous prices!

On the bright side, I know now what shoe size I wear in Europe!