New Addition to Study Abroad Office: Sarah Malloy

Hi! I’m Sarah Malloy, the new non-UA programs advisor. As an undergraduate, I studied abroad in both Costa Rica and in Spain. I suppose, if you were to do the math, I spent a little more than one-fourth of my four college years studying in foreign countries (Yes! I was still able to graduate in four years…even with studying abroad and double majoring. You can, too!). Studying abroad was a critical part of my undergraduate experience – it shifted my perspective, challenged me to grow personally and professional, and allowed me to cultivate an appreciation for my Germanic roots. While in Spain, I reconnected with my German family which is a story I want to share with you!  

Sarah Malloy (right) in Baden-Wurttemberg, Germany

Finding Roots in Baden-Wurttemberg

My letter went something to the effect of, “Hi, my name is Sarah. I’m the granddaughter of Emma Haas. I’m studying in Madrid, Spain until May, and I am hoping to meet you.”

My grandmother kept the address of our German relatives with the rest of the addresses she had amassed over the decades. It took a few minutes to dig through them all, but she found it. I saw a jumbled mess of letters and numbers -- nothing resembling an address. Besides, who even knew if the address was still correct anyway. I figured it would be a long shot, at best, if my letter arrived in the hands of my kin.
I included my email address in the letter hoping that I would receive a quicker response. Sure enough, on March 9th, 2006, I heard back from the motherland:

Hi Sarah,

We had your letter yesterday. It’s great to hear that you want to met us. Your’re more than welcome. The march 31th weekend is fine. The other other one in April is a little bit difficult because we might be on Easter break in Italy. But we could also be back by Friday. So please let us know. We’re glad to pick you up at the airport, train or bus station.

Since my relatives had never seen me before and I had never seen them, I thought we could exchange photos through email. I sent the best head-shot I could find, euro haircut and all.  With my heart pounding and palms sweating, I arrived at the Stuttgart airport and realized I didn’t know who I was looking for. Buying a plane ticket to Germany had been easy, but spotting my family at the airport was not.

I looked every German in the eye, silently imploring someone to take me to my long lost family. Reasoning it best to stay close to baggage claim, I found a cozy bench to keep an eye out for people who seemed to look as lost as I felt. After waiting for about thirty minutes, I saw a mother and her two daughters run into the terminal, frantically looking for someone. For me.

We hugged and smiled. Tears welled up in my eyes, although I tried my hardest to hide it. My family took me to the town my great-grandfather moved from to begin a new life in the United States at the turn of the century. My relatives took me to the house my great-grandfather was born and raised in, and the church at the center of the town where he was baptized. They introduced me to the thirty-plus family members that still resided in the town, and fed me well at every meal.

This is me. This is where I came from. My nose came from this part of the family tree, as my cousins pointed out, narrow at the top, slightly flared at the bottom, and squishy to the touch. It seemed as though everything made sense in the world.

While my first stay with my German relatives was relatively short, it left the biggest impression upon me. [Note: Bear with me as I reference a few limbs on the family tree without going into pain-staking detail in the following paragraphs] The first evening, I shared a meal with at least 20 family members, sons and daughters of my grandmother’s cousin (daughter of my great-grandfather’s daughter) and her family. We crowded around the table, passing dish after hearty dish of meat, potatoes, and salad. Naturally, I washed down the food with another German staple, beer. I believe we rounded out the evening sipping on homemade cherry schnapps, which is a staple in any true German household.

German Family Dinner Snapshot

 Each afternoon, we visited one relative’s home for coffee hour, then went to another's for dinner. I was so amazed that everyone lived so closely to one another. It was such a novelty to me, since my parents moved hundreds of miles away from their small families to Arkansas in the middle of the 1980s.

My grandmother’s cousin and her husband hosted the last meal. She stood in the kitchen cranking the handle on the spaetzle-maker to churn out fresh, doughy German noodles. It was a delicious meal to round out my first visit to Germany. In the many times I’ve had the chance to visit my relatives, I’ve never left empty-hearted or hungry.

Years later I traveled back with my sister in tow. Then, with my parents. This past fall, my mother brought her aunt, my grandmother’s sister and cousin to the matriarch of the family, to Germany to see her father’s birthplace. While my relatives had visited the United States a number of times to visit distant family (again, no need to bore you with my family tree), they’ve since visited my limb on the family tree several times.

It’s strange to think -- all of these visits started out with a hopeful letter, a strange photo and a jumbled up address of numbers and letters.