Over the River and Through the Woods

Behind my host family’s house in Bonn sits an enormous forest, the Kottenforst. It’s an old 11th-century hunting ground for the nobles of Bonn to enjoy, and in modern times serves as a nature preserve and hiking destination. Scattered throughout are old archeological sites, farms, and a pasture or two.

From my desk at home, I can look out the window, past the flowing apple tree and towards the hills that loom over my neighbour’s house. That wall of green is the Kottenforst. I take a small walking trail past the high-density housing at the base of the hill, across towards a brook that winds its way through the area. The trail splits off endlessly into dozens of winding paths. Some take you deep into the forest, some take you right back out, or others lead you to someone’s backyard. I have become accustomed, on days where the weather is particularly nice, or particularly rainy, or the dynamics homework has proved too much, to wander through these woods. It brings me a profound sense of comfort to have such lush nature in my backyard while in the midst of busy city life. Growing up in a small town in Maine, I have always been close to nature. Moose, bear, and even lobster sightings on the roads aren’t unheard of. During the summers, I am conditioned to check for ticks and fear brown tail moths, something that not every family does.

I take a new trail each time I wander into the forest, and there are thousands to choose from. From large pedestrian bike paths to uneven game trails, there are plenty of options. I have found myself in the same spots over and over again. A Gazebo serves to orient me down the right path. Sometimes, I arrive at rustic farmsteads, where, if it were not for a car parked out front, I could believe I have been transported back in time to the medieval ages. Once, I found myself wandering into a horse pasture. The trees grow long and straight. Sometimes I find myself lost in a section of pine that reminds me of the white pines that grow back home. I know the pines there were cut by the English to use as ship masts, but I wonder if the same thing happened here. They grow remarkably straight.

I am well aware of the Brothers Grimm fairy tales. The original versions of the classic Little Red Riding Hood, or Hansel and Gretel, often have much older, much darker origins. Most involve the woods, and almost all involve hunger. Themes of Famine wind their way through old fairy tales, like weeds pushing through the pavement.

But still, out here it is calm and peaceful. I have found that the less I smile, the friendlier strangers are when I pass them. If I smile at them, they look away, but when I am lost in thought or scowling at the idea of returning to Dynamics homework, they prove friendly and greet meet every time. Perhaps smiles are too disingenuous here. I have noticed the best way to get a stranger to stop looking at you is to smile at them.

Out in the woods, the walking is easy. The first trek is a winding path up the hill. It somewhat follows the brook, though it soon diverges into flat land. The area is so flat that it is almost boring. The ground can be muddy, and small lakes and ponds are scattered throughout. Signage indicates endangered birds, salamanders, and newts call this place home. Sometimes I want to follow the brook, but I can never find it again. Sometimes the monotony of a perfectly flat landscape drives me a little mad. It’s too civilized. I find I want to walk off the paved paths, away from all signs of civilization. But even in the densest, least developed region of the woods, I am met with human activity from hundreds of years ago. Dotted throughout are archaeological sites, including the Venner Ringwall, which was depicted as an enormous Romanesque wall on the sign, but in reality was a mound of dirt. The intricacies of our modern life are completely unknown to the people of 1000 years ago. And likewise, their daily life is foreign to us. And yet both of us have walked through these woods.

I wonder how many people have walked through here, looked at the trees. Some of them grow old, over 500 years old. Wolf trees that grew alone in a field stretching out on all sides, now dominating an area amongst new trees who grow tall and thin shoulder to shoulder. How much the world has changed in one tree’s lifetime. Recently, possible evidence of alien life was found on an exoplanet millions of miles away. In 1970, we didn’t even know if there were other planets outside our solar system. In 1920, we didn’t know about the neutron. In 1969, we went to the moon. In 1970, we put wheels on luggage. In 1906, the New York Times famously said that humanity was 1-10 million years away from developing flight; Nine days later, the Wright brothers had their first successful flight. From horse-drawn carriages to airplanes, to the moon landing in less than a hundred years. And that tree is five hundred years old.

I think about all these things as I walk through the woods. I think about home. I think of old friends and the new ones I am making here. And soon I find myself walking on old familiar trails back home. Soon, I return to city life, to civilization just down the hill. I return to my desk, and there, sat ever unfinished, lies my Dynamics homework. However, today was different. Today I returned from a walk in the rain to no Dynamics homework, the final taken mere hours before. The grade, like Schrödinger’s cat, is ever unknown. Both passed and failed at the same time, only made certain once the Professor hands it back.

But in those moments, in those woods, there is nothing. Nothing save for the thoughts in my head, the mud on my boots, and the sweat on my back. I feel that as I near the end of my time here in Germany, despite all the places I’ve been and all the things I’ve done and seen, what I will remember most fondly at the quiet hikes. The rain on leaves, the call of birds, and the woods. And now you, too, have reached the end of your leisurely stroll through my blog. As you prepare for whatever is next, I hope you take a pause and, for a moment, remove all the worries and fear from your mind and simply be. Like this slug that I found. It don’t care. Be the slug every now and then.

Ian signing off.