On Saturday, we attended a graduation ceremony for yours truly. Which was kind of weird, because I finished my exams a year ago January, turned in my thesis last July, received my diploma in the mail this January, and now it is June. But not all departments even hold a graduation ceremony, so I was happy to go.
There was a short welcome speech from a faculty member.
Then the English Department choir sang. John took some video footage of it, if anyone is interested.
Then the main speaker.
(The room was gorgeous, all wood carving and paintings, but it really seemed to suck up the light in our photos. Sorry.)
Then some more singing. Then the graduates (and people taking their exams but soon to graduate) were called up one by one.
A lot more people came than had been expected, so we really filled up the front of the room.
Afterward, we were served champagne and buttered pretzels (this *is* Southern Germany, after all).
(For those of you keeping track at home, in this photo I am wearing pumps and Hannah is not, yet she is taller than me.)
Then Hannah and John took me out to lunch. Hannah really wanted Chinese, but since she doesn't actually differentiate between Asian cuisines, we went to the Thai restaurant within view of the university building where the ceremony had been held. John decided to base his order on how obscene the dish sounded and ended up with Ped Rad Prik ("crispy fried duck with chili sauce"). Hilarity ensued: "You really seem to like that Prik." "You just can't get enough Prik, can you?" And so on in that manner.
I think John's 2 glasses of champagne went to his head, because Hannah and I were trying to explain about an experiment we had seen on Mythbusters about beer goggles, and he wouldn't stop watching a fly that got caught in a spider web in the corner behind him. It was his fault the fly got caught in the first place, because somehow (I didn't see it happen) he managed to knock one of the fly's legs off, making that 5-legged little sucker a sitting duck, so to speak. It was like being involved in the production of the most boring nature show ever.
Afterward, they wanted ice cream, so we headed down the street for it. The interprising ice cream salesmen had hung one of those stupid vuvuzelas (the horrible plastic horn that Africa has introduced to soccer fandom) out front and invited people to blow it. A couple had just given it a go when we walked up, and then while I was waiting for John and Hannah to order, I watched a little kid, maybe 4, walk up with his mouth wide open to blow into it. Luckily, the adult with him pulled it away and covered the mouthpiece with his hand. Just like with a public toilet, you are taking your chances with one of those things.
On the way to the parking garage, John insisted on one last photo to commemorate my time at the university.
Now the umbilical cord is officially cut. Hello, cruel world!