The long-awaited review of Salzburg

For over a month now I have been intending to write about my mom's visit and especially our time in Salzburg, but I have been plagued by overwhelming stress and laziness, and so have not taken the time until now to do so.

As my time here in Europe is winding to a close, I decided that it was mandatory for me to experience a sleeper train. So at the end of April I took a Friday night train to Salzburg, slept in a chair that reclined more than the normal seat, but nowhere close to a horizontal position, arrived having lost my copy of The Mystery of Edwin Drood on the first and groggiest of my train changes, and met up with Drew and Lisa for breakfast. When I was last in Salzburg it was winter with a nice layer of cold on the ground and air which hurried you to your next destination in the hope of warming up again. Coffee was mandatory. This visit, in the early part of spring, was equally, but of course differently, stunning. From the minute you step out of the train station, the city is dominated by the fortress Hohensalzburg on top of a hill in the center of the city and green. Of the five days that I was there, four were warm and sunny to the point that I managed to get a sunburn and could constantly smell the sun on my skin.
I have utterly fallen in love Austria, and especially Salzburg. It is hard to resist the beauty and history that is Salzburg, but I think the thing that draws me so much to the place is the fact that it is a haven to me here in Europe. It has been a good year, but a very difficult one, and it has proven rather challenging to get breaks from my work here as an au pair. The fact that I live with the family I work for, in the very next room, has made it very hard for me to ever feel that I can completely relax and be on my own. I have not found here in Oldenburg someone with whom I can converse on the same level that I have been spoiled enough to hope for while living in Eugene, and there is not really anyone around who completely understands my perspective, not only as an America, but also as a Christian, and a not very conventional one at that. So when I get the opportunity to visit friends from Eugene, who live on this continent, I settle quite quickly into a feeling of deep comfort. It is not merely the fact that Drew and Lisa are from Eugene which makes them so dear to me, but I remember when I am around them what a rare thing it is to find people who are kind and thoughtful. Not thoughtful in the sense of kind because I'm not trying to be that redundant, but thoughtful in the sense of being people who actively think about things without even noticing it. That and Lisa's an incredible hostess and lots of fun to be around. And they have the most incredible marble-shower-with-three-different-sources-of-water-the-size-of-a-closet that I have ever seen.

Mom arrived on Sunday. I made the horrible mistake of being late to the train to pick her up which meant that I didn't know what platform she had arrived on (because the board had already moved on to the next batch of arrivals) and so I ran from one to the next searching for my mother while Drew waited patiently in his illegal parking spot until I found her surprisingly unfrazzled and brought her to the car. Poor thing though, it was her first trip to Europe, she was without my father (who has not only a former realtor's instinct for how to get where he wants to go in any town, which I think I might have inherited from him, but also that male courage which does not deign to find directions necessary) and although she had been guided through the basics of the European rail system by our friend Gabi, she was still on shaky ground with no one to meet her as she got off the train, no phone from which to call, or even a sure telephone number and only that vocabulary which is helpful in describing the color of cars in the native tongue. Her first look when I called her name was naturally one of relief, "Good. I learned to just stay put and when it gets dark get big, and someone will eventually find you, I'm not entirely sure that the method will work in a train station, but I had several hours before dark to figure that out." The next two days with Mom were a blast. By that time I knew my way around Salzburg well enough to bring her around to some of the highlights (most of which are sighted if you pay the 15 euros to take the Sound of Music Tour), and we spent our days wandering the town and country, talking and sipping coffee to forestall any caffeine withdrawal symptoms I might experience.

On Wednesday early in the afternoon, mom and I boarded an IC and later an ICE (those are the really nice trains where there are people in uniform who come by to sell you an overpriced cup of soaked coffee grounds), and headed back up to Oldenburg when she spent the next couple of days seeing my situation, my town and my life here, then I put her on a train back to Giessen with a tearful goodbye, and have spent the last month and a half trying to suppress my antsyness to see my friends and family again.

Busy, but alive.

I find that I must once again assert that I am alive. I have been rather busy the last couple of weeks celebrating Easter and welcoming Josh to Germany. Easter is not a small holiday here. That is evident in that they decorate the house in honor of the day. Not just with flowers and a pair of bunnies... they go to rather more trouble. First someone is sent out to collect green branches from which to hang the painted eggs that are often the result of years of collecting. Then there are the other easter ornaments that get hung all over the house. It was rather baffling for me to take in, and when Carolin and I were originally sent out to collect the branches, our mutual inexperience led us to branches that were more like small walking sticks than graceful decorations and a second collecting expidition was required.
Just before Easter, Josh arrived rather tired in Germany. After several somewhat chaotic days- in which we managed to all get sick, travel to the furthest edge of Niedersachsen to visit Goslar and see the Kaiserhaus (pictured below) where it was snowing, celebrate Easter, hear German spoken with a very thick Irish accent (a concert at the local Irish Pub)- we sent Josh on his way to Berlin and we have spent the rest of the week trying to get through all of our illnesses. It is currently nearly 1:15 am here, and my thoughts have been fuzzy for several hours now, so I am going to cut this very short, but I hope to be able to write more soon and more consistantly again. Liebe Grüße!

...of rain

It has been months since I last visited what is quickly becoming my beloved Bremen, but today was the day for it. These January days are, to my mind, best used to travel. So long as the conveyance is closed and can boast a functioning heating system. After the normal greet and coffee drinking that characterizes the close of all the church services I have encountered here in Germany, I tossed my pack onto one of my shoulders and marched practically across the street from my church into the train station. Then it was off to Bremen. There is always this quick moment of panic as the conductor approaches to confirm my fare. I have no idea why, because free weekend rides to Bremen are one of the bonus features of my year long bus ticket, and I pat myself down multiple times on the way to both the bus stop and the train station every time; still those posted warnings about the illegality of riding without a ticket seem to have seeped into my innermost thoughts emerging to toy with my anxiety at will. Despite that moment of trepidity, I spent 40 pleasant minutes on the train and disembarked to find (na Klar!) that it was raining at my destination. To correctly understand the air of resignation I then forced upon myself, you must first understand my relationship to rain. It is of the polar persuasion. Born in the high desert, I grew up being more familiar with cacti and dry, cracked knuckles than synonyms for precipitation. On those delightful evenings when it actually rained it worked to make up in enthusiasm whatever was lost by its prolonged absence. When it stormed we got the whole show: lights and drums. At eighteen, when I moved to Oregon, my understanding of rain was quite altered. The rain started around September and didn't let up until June. It is the sort of rain that must have inspired Chinese Water Torture. I endure this sort of rain primarily by reminding myself that it is the source of the incredible green I am dazzled by throughout the year, but most especially spanning the entire summer. Without that constant reminder, and the frequent application of warm beverages to my internal organs, there is only a fraction of a possibility that I would have lived in Oregon as long as I have. Ironically, the area of Germany in which I find myself has precisely the same weather pattern found in the Willamette Valley with the increased discomfort of a slight general drop, and an increase in windiness in temperature. All of that is to say that it was raining in Bremen. Still, I acquired and partook of the aforementioned hot liquid, sat with my books and unfinished letters, and spend a delightful afternoon in the town next door. At the termination of my visit to Bremen I had another peaceful (although delayed ten minutes by an accident on the rail) train ride home where I now sit in a cozy corner writing a long-overdue blog, which I now close with the wish that you may soon find a moment of weather most particularly suited to your tastes or the ability to endure that which is instead set before you.

Photos von Urlaub

I promised that I would actually put up a couple of pictures of things here, so I will try to do that the next couple of blogs. My apology in advance, that my pictures with Katie and Matt haven't made it onto my computer just yet.

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I last talked about my day with the street musicians. Here are those charmers. As you can imagine, there was always a huddle of 16-25 year old girls freezing themselves and listening. I found out later that Dave (far right) connected with his girlfriend while he was "busking," as street entertaining is called. They are (from left, just like reading): Dominik, Samuel and David.


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Katie woo took this picture of me walking through the monument to the fallen Jews in Berlin. It's an awesome monument. Really solemn and yet really alive, with people usually running through it.















<------- On our one day tour through Berlin, I made Katie and Matt wander around with me until we found Fassbender & Rausch, Chocolatiers Am Gendarmenmarkt, again so that I could buy amazing chocolate even by German standards. This is a picture of a model of two famous buildings in Berlin (I only remember that they're nicknamed the lipstick and powder box) but the whole model is made out of chocolate. They also have a model of the Titanic, which is probably 5 feet long. It's deeply tempting, but that little placard at the base says not to touch, and for some reason I tend to obey the placards.

Let the fun begin!

I am safe and sound here at the Harfst's house and thoroughly enjoying myself. Yesterday I spend the day following David and Samuel around as they did their street performing with their friend Dominik. It was awesome. I really enjoyed their music and even got to participate (that is, I periodically tossed the change from David's coffee into the guitar case in front of the crowd or bought a cd from the boys, which David bought back from me at home). It was really cold, however, and the runny nose that I was fighting against on the way down here triumphed so I am now constantly accompanied by a package of Kleenex. Today I went to church with the clan, helped decorate the tree (the tradition in Germany is to not set the whole thing up until just before Christmas), then went out with Samuel, his friend Peter, and Peter's American girlfriend, Michelle. Michell attends Biola and knows one of my old but dear friends, Hilary. This world just keeps shrinking. I thoroughly enjoyed getting to talk with Michelle and Samuel and Peter over beer and pizza at the Alt Gießen, which is, apparently, a German dining experience. The holiday officially starts in one hour over here, so I will bid Merry Christmas to all, and to all a goodnight.

"Like a dirty shirt..."

"... I'm off." (as my Father would say) I leave tomorrow morning to visit the Harfst family for Christmas. I have not gotten enough sleep this week however, so this is not a formal update. Hopefully I will have more thoughts and things to relate on the other end. Until then, fröliche Weihnachten!

At home it is Thanksgiving. Here it is Thursday.

I can only imagine the abdominal pain caused by the ample mirth which the Fates must endure when they compare my romantic imaginings and plans for a day with their omnipotent schedule. In it's entirety the day was performed with a larger than usual helping of charm, and yet it was a mere tarnished silver reflection of the day that I had intended. Not that I complain. No, it would be unusually ironic of me bordering on sacrilegious to be anything but grateful on this particular holiday, so I will content myself with a narration of the day's occurrences interspersed with accounts of my thwarted intentions.

It has been the tradition of my family, since our uprooting and transference to Oregon, to make our way to the Pacific ocean for a weekend together every third weekend after the first Tuesday in November. In light of the difficulty of attempting to prepare an entire turkey dinner in a strange kitchen with or without the proper means, utensils, crockery and assistance, my family has also forgone the fowl tradition and replaced it with a main course of ham. So to keep with these traditions of untradtionalism, it was originally my intention to spend the day on the coast of Germany, which fortunately is not very far; frolic on the beach, watch the sun set, enjoy a personal picnic, and return home fully self-satisfied.
Last week, (or was it earlier this week?) I was asked if I would be willing to look after the little man for an hour or so while his mother kept an appointment with a client. Her assumption was that I was going to attend my language school in the morning and go to the coast in the afternoon; a question which I had not entirely settled in my own mind trying to balance my desire to attend class with the urge to flee the city as soon as possible. So, ever the one to bend unnecessarily far to maintain good graces, I agreed to leave my class half way through to watch der Junger.
The morning went entertainingly; I had to run the last block or so to catch my bus, much to the amusement of the driver and a cluster of three or four ten year old boys; I was early enough to class to steal my preferred seat which is usually occupied by Essofa, who could pummel me for the offense were he not rightly afraid it would come off as ungentlemanly; according to plan I left my class unfinished and rushing to Sabine's office, I quickly weighed myself down with a Baby Bjorn containing the aforementioned child, and stepped out of the office to explore the nearby bookstores; finishing her appointment rather later than expected, the three of us drove home making a pause at the grocery store and bakery to complete my requisite picnic expectations. By the time I had loaded my backpack, eaten my lunch, donned the necessary layers of warmth, and made my way to the bus stop it was almost two in the afternoon. My late start was further delayed as I, for the second time in one day, ran to catch my bus, this time missing it by fifty feet or so. Since the next bus was not due for another half hour, I decided to walk past the next three stops until I arrived at the fourth stop on my route (15 minutes or so) which is the junction of two bus lines. Fortunately, I had only ten or so minutes to wait for the next bus, and arrived in one sleepy piece at the train station where, having missed the previous train by no more than fifteen minutes, I waited over a cup of coffee for my conveyance to Wilhelmshaven. The ride itself was marvelous, an opinion I have come to expect from myself with respect to riding the train, but I found as I watched the sky on my journey that I had yet again miscalculated, this time assuming that the relative latitude of my former and current homes were more in accord with each other. Unfortunately, they are not so similar as I had assumed and the sun was set when I arrived at my destination. So I found myself a corner of the harbor in Wilhelmshaven, sat on a pile of what once must have been concrete blocks but now more closely resemble a pile of discarded building materials, and ate my dinner of salami and bleu cheese brie on baguette. Although sitting there watching the moon rise did not comply with my earlier imagination of watching the sun set over breaking waves from a sandy perch, beyond the shared presence of water, it was a charming meal. When I finished it I resolved to walk until I discovered the actual North Sea instead of the half-full harbor I had been observing. I have no clear understanding of either the time or the distance that I walked, but my sore limbs tell me it was certainly far enough. When I eventually found myself on a promenade, I mustered the courage to ask a kindly looking pedestrian gentleman where I could go to hear the waves. He chuckled and answered that there aren't waves in the area because there is not enough wind, and where am I from? This opened up a pleasant although short conversation about how I found myself at the end of the earth, to use his expression. Following his implications as to the direction of the shore, I clambered across some moss and muscle beslippered rocks and performed some tame frolics upon the sand finally closing my performance with a solo rendition of "Be Thou My Vision" under what appeared to be very nearly a full moon. I continued my exploration of the town by following the promenade for some distance then doubling back through the city on a different route to the train station. Along this previously untraversed ground, I happened upon an old and majestic church which was further enhanced in its appeal by the audible token of an organist rehearsing on a large instrument, and a cafe which was snuggled in the corner of a Vespa dealership the primary decoration of the establishment being several of the revered machines themselves on display in the window. I arrived in ample time to the station and entertained myself by wandering through the adjoining mall cleverly named the Northern Passage and reading the famous papers arranged by Mr. Boz; which latter event likely accounts for my observation of the ironic and humorous this evening. Such was my real and my imagined day which I leave, as it finally closes, quite tired and satisfied. I only hope that your holiday also went well.

Returned (the full story)

Yes, my dears, I am safely and sanely back from my travels to the charming land of Bayern (southern Deutschland). I arrived last night around 9:00, took a shower, looked over the emails that I won't have a chance to answer for another several days, answered one or two of them, puttered around some more and finally went to bed. So today, when I have barely more time, I will try to tell you all of my doings in Lauf and Nürnberg. Friday afternoon Holger, Sabine, Carolin, Felix and I crowded into their Volkswagen and began the eight hour drive to Holger's mother's apartment in Lauf. We arrived fairly late and I stumbled into bed. The next morning we awoke, had breakfast, met up with Sabine's sister who is visiting from South Carolina with her twins and her husband, and went to Nürnberg which is only about fifteen or twenty minutes away. Holger and Sabine bought me some gingerbread cookies, handed me my train ticket, and sent me on my wanderings about the city after having pointed the way both toward the train station and the castle. Yes, the castle. I saw my first real-live castle. That first day I toured the castle, climbed the castle tower (96 frighteningly narrow steps), walked through one of the three major churches, and had a traditional wurst, kraut, dense bread, and beer dinner in the locals' pub. Sunday I met Sabine's entire family and got a personal tour of the city's ancient water wheel from her dad, who headed up the restoration project, and an extensive personal walking tour of the whole town of Lauf from Holger's mom. I'm telling you, this is the way to do tours. I was utterly charmed by Lauf. Monday, I went back to Nürnberg and walked around, looked at another church, had professionally made European drinking chocolate, and did some shopping and reading. After all of that, I don't precisely recall the order of things that happened, but suffice it to say, I had a great time. Every evening when I got back from my wanderings I would sit down for a glass of wine with Sabine, Holger, and his mother and we would talk. This is a really good thing for me particularly since I have had a very difficult time feeling at ease around Holger and Sabine in a more equal environment, i.e. when I am not just the care-taker, but am a traveler, or a person interested in history or any number of the other aspects which comprise me-ness. All in all, it was a wonderful five days. I could get used to this whole travel around with nothing to do but take in the sights and go on tours!

What are weekends for...

...but to recover your health? Usually it is my mental health that I recover on the weekends, but this past weekend (even through today), has included recovering my physical health. Funny thing is that the entire family got it except for Caroline. How ironic that all of the adults around are feverish, exhausted and sneezing while the four year old who wants to be entertained is perfectly healthy and as active as ever. I often envy her youthful energy, but this weekend the discrepancy between our life-levels was almost astonishing. No wonder people have always been obsessed with the fountain of youth. They don't want it so that they can live forever, they want it so that they can stop being so sore and tired all the time.
In other news, I am taking a trip to Lauf (Southernish Germany near Nurenburg) this next weekend for five days, so I'll try to remember to take pictures and tell all y'all all about it (I just couldn't resist) when I get back. Now I sleep. Goodnight.

Berlin

Over a week ago I said that I would post pictures of Berlin. I also said I would talk about it, but we did so much that it is difficult for me to know what to say. I left Friday night and came back Sunday night, but in those 2 and 1/16th days, I went to a wedding, stayed in Haus Nazareth, played pool, ate white sausage, got the whirlwind tour of Berlin, went to an church service in a movie theater, went to Cafe Einstein, and had many very thoughtful conversations. I would put the pictures in a better order, but I don't have the energy to do that at the moment (this posting pics thing is still new to me).
This first one is of the Reichstag which is the seat of the German Parliament. In front of this building is a memorial to the members of Parliament who stood up to Hitler and were killed for their courage. This is one of Seanne's favorite memorials, but if I try to describe it I won't do it justice so you'll have to go see it yourself.

This second picture is the library of Humboldt University. This picture is only a fraction of this stunning ivy-covered courtyard. I can only imagine how distracting it would be to try to study there because I would be constantly looking at the beauty surrounding me.

Ahh yes, this is me and my three very gracious hosts, Frank (an excellent cook), Seanne (the person who first interested me in Germany when I was ten or so), and Daniel (who is hilarious both in German and English).

So there's Berlin in a nutshell. All in all it was an incredible weekend and just what I needed. Thanks Seanne, Daniel and Frank.