When Scott Northrup was a Junior at Carleton, back in 1979 or so, his mom feared that if he took up an offer to study abroad for a year in Erlangen—a town a couple dozen miles from Nuremberg--he might never return. When Scott told us this story on the car ride from the Erlangen train station, his mom's warning immediately reminded me of my own's well-placed hope that we’d “like France, but not too much.” Unfortunately for Mrs. Northrup, it appears the outcome was quite different for Scott than it will be for us.
Scott returned to finish his senior year in Northfield, where he majored in German lit. Before long he was back in Erlangen, looking for work. He found not only this, but his wife, Sibylle, a German native and primary school instructor. In Germany, aspiring teachers have to student teach for two years before being released into the wild, though when Sibylle was doing it the requirement was three.
Scott and Sibylle have three kids, all now in their twenties, leaving guest rooms galore in their three-floor home in Dechsendorf, a tiny town just outside Erlangen. Scott is now an international sales manager at Siemens, having started as a translator. For Annalise and I, the most important decision in his life was to provide his current address to Carleton Alulmni Affairs, which threw it up on the Alumni Directory for all backpackers with Eurorails to see.
Upon arrival, Scott and Sibylle had homemade apple cake ready on the table, and that night we had Nuremberg-style bratwurst, plus sauerkraut and apple juice. (The Northrups, by the way, have, like, 8097235 gallons of homemade apple juice in the basement.) Having high-quality local cuisine and staying two nights in a typical German home, with its comprehensive garbage system and doorbells in the back, was more satisfying than educational, as we were always full and sleepy.
It is hard to imagine a more accommodating and perfect situation than what Annalise and I had in Erlangen/Dechsendorf. Scott and Sibylle insisted on us eating an amazing chicken stew the next night, invited us to raid their two fridges (one was just for beer), and gave us our own room, plus some sightseeing tips.
The best of these was Bamberg, a thirty minute train ride in the opposite direction of Nurenberg, and a place that forced Lonely Planet’s authors to piss themselves and ask: “Is there a better town in all of Germany?”
In Bamberg, you can drink beer that tastes like ham juice knowing that that’s a good thing. Brugge-like in its medieval quaintness, it lacks tourists and its version of perfect local beer is less expensive. Its houses clearly date from hundreds of years ago, and there are about seven landmark churches. Although it was drizzling and then pouring for most of our walk, the views didn’t fog up, and the frozen rain only made the Bamberg bars more comfortable and Sibylle’s stew more warm. It was wonderful to stay in Erlangen and, for karmic reasons, we hope unknown Carls come visit us someday once we’re all set up.
Because Carleton, as a great school, is in the business of supplying the world with great people. They call them alumni and ask for their money, and staying with one in Europe blows away any hotel. Having hopped the Atlantic ourselves, it’s important for us to meet people who continued on this path, because, for us, the question’s aren’t currently could’ves, but if’s and would we rather’s. That is to say: meeting Carletoners who explain how they passed the juncture that we’re currently at is a study in possibilities and outcomes. The fact that Scott and Sibylle seem so happy reminds us of exactly why we wanted to see what life was like here in Europe: in order to see what it could be like here. And, lucky for us, the Euro-Carleton diaspora stretches across Germany and spills into Switzerland and Italy and elsewhere, meaning more speaking English, more glimpses of possible futures, and less hotel costs.
We were going to see Munich for five hours today but decided to swing by later and slept in and hung out with Scott and Sibylle’s colossal dog named Duma. She comes from a violent breed that used to be trained to attack bears and protect sheep, but she is, to use Scott’s words, “cognitively a little warped,” and so is always biting at imaginary flies, for instance.
Today, we got some work done. I'm writing from the apartment of Kim Feldt, class of 1987; right now she’s upstairs with a client. Annalise is still full and sleepy, and life is still good and transplantable.
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