Life: Idiotropic

A few years ago, the girls got hand-made snowman towels for Christmas. Those towels are still their favorites.

Since this winter was so cold and in order to rescue my sanity and reduce the post-bath whining in the house, I started putting the girls towels in the dryer (which is in the bathroom anyway - old house, strange plumbing) so that they can have hot towels when they get out. They are soooo happy now after their bath. It's magical.

Anyway... tonight when Elise got out of the bath, I pulled the hot towel from the dryer and wrapped her up extra tight hugging her to steal a little bit of the warmth for me and she looked up at me with her perfectly angelic face and said,


Ahhhh... my girl. She's just perfect.

Spring is here, really truly. It's finally here.

There is proof of this in the large thick comforters hanging out top story windows to air out and dry, in the cotton candy blooms covering the trees in every direction, in the happy tweeting of birds at an increasingly early hour, and in the time spent with friends walking, talking, and enjoying our surroundings.

It was all topped off today but a visit to my favorite cafe in Immendorf with friends where the girls all got to order a large scoop of home made ice cream all by themselves for only 50 cents each and I got to relax with a berry topped cream cake while the kids played. This evening while the girls wrestled Kirk outside in the grass, I unloaded the summer bin and replaced the contents with every wool sweater, turtleneck, and long sleeved dress I could find in their room. Yep. Winter is finally over.

The events of the last couple weeks have been mostly joyous, with but one sad tragedy. Just one day after a triumphant Luci learned to tie her shoes ALL BY HERSELF, she found a baby bird newly hatched laying in the grass. It's egg was partially still stuck to it's new damp feathers. I suspect that a marder or other critter had taken the egg from the nest and was scared off before eating it. The bird had definitely hatched there. No nest was visible. The bird was barely moving. I was sure it would die soon. My neighbor suggested digging a hole, which Arianna did, but I could not stand to watch a bird being buried still alive. Besides, it was cold out and starting to rain and get dark. So, I brought it in, put it in a safe place in the bathroom where the drier kept the room warm, and gave it water and a little food. Fed and watered it at least every two-three hours even that night... prepared the girls that it wouldn't survive, but still tried. It perked up that evening. The next morning, it was still doing OK, but slow. It wouldn't eat as much. That afternoon it passed away, so I found a nice French cheese box, and we had a burial for it. Luci balled. Absolutely balled. She has my love for nature. Now she's trying to convince us that she needs a pet bird.

On a happy note, I've been outside in the sun which is wonderfully good for my mental health! One day I went walking from Geilenkirchen to Burg Trips and back with a friend, enjoying a cappuccino reward at the end. Saw baby lambs, baby geese, a beautiful blue heron, and a lovely large goose who hissed at me when I got too close. Went into a pet store and found out that dogs and cats cannot be sold legally in pet stores. You can only buy them from breeders or rescue shelters. And, the owner of my favorite cafe had found my local blog and asked if it was me who wrote the nice things about the bakery, so she wouldn't let me pay for my coffee and apricot quark kuchen. It was very nice.

Another sunny day afforded me the opportunity to go to Maastricht with a friend and walk the route that she goes. Funny how we are such creatures of habit. I still park in the same garage each time I go to Maastricht and I still walk the same route. Holly does the same thing - different parking spot - different route. So we did Maastricht the Holly way - by following a row of amazing shopping opportunities and ending at the most delightful surprise ever - a bookstore and coffee shop housed in an 11 century church. This isn't a church bookstore. This is a church building erected in 1274 that is now filled with book covered tables and a modern 3-story platform of books. It is a modern, secular bookstore - AND, it has an English section! (English sections here in Europe almost always carry books written or translated into British English, not American. Not a problem, really, but it is a difference.)

Everyone is happy. Life is good.

One day wasn't enough. Frankly, two days wasn't enough. I'm happy with my life and grateful for the opportunities to travel and see new things, but these are the times that hurt. I console myself with the fact that I've never been close enough to my family to have them over for dinner (so I should be used to this) and there is consolation in the family that I'm building for myself in my children. But there are so many things that I want to be able to do. I want to cook meals for my grandmother - not that she can't cook, but just to help and to share with her some of the recipes I'm most proud of. I'd like to just "stop by" with a dry cappuccino just for the fun of it, to visit, help out, and get to know this incredible woman that I only know through visits and coffee chats over the years and now, the occasional phone call. I want to have the family over for Christmas, Thanksgiving... you name it, I'll cook it. I'd love to celebrate the holidays with them all. It's not ingratitude. I am very thankful for each moment that I am able to spend back home with these people I consider myself lucky enough to be related to... but sometimes I get greedy and just want more. I crave the spontaneity that families living close can have. The, "hey, I just cooked an amazing dinner - come over and share it with us" kind of freedom. And, you know... there is so much of us wrapped up in where we come from. A certain relaxed state of being that comes when you can just totally be true to you are in a room full of people that have that connection. I feel more like me, refreshed and grounded after some time home.

Today was about family. One more visit with Grandma and Grandpa. We took my grandma to Portofino, an Italian restaurant in Pacifica that provides the quiet needed the converse and a soothing view of the ocean. Then we picked up our coffees and went back to Grandma's house to visit with Grandpa over sweets. It was a quieter visit... grandma and me talking more than the others. In fact, I think there as one time when Tiara and both her grandpas all nodded off sitting in their chairs. Grandpa was quieter today. But it was good to be there and to have that time. Still, I kept telling myself that he'd get better. That I'd see him on my next visit. Letting go has never been my gift. Now, of course, I wish I would have known. There are questions I would have asked and things I would have said. It's a dangerous game of woulda shoulda and what ifs.

Yesterday before our drive to the coast, we stopped at the allART Cafe for some authentic Italian espresso so that I could make tiramisu that evening. I'd learned how to make it from an Italian friend months ago, but I was nervous to make it now for family. The key is the coffee, really, so I knew that these precious shots of espresso would make or break my dessert. Last night I put it together and today Angie hauled it over to my sister's house for a family gathering with that side of the family. Wow. A hit! I was pretty happy with it and am ready to deluge my friends here with endless trays of the delicious treat. The relaxed time with family was nice. This was technically, the "step" family which seemed to matter more when I was a kid and my "step" siblings were older and living in a different universe than I. We had nothing in common then. Now, they're absolutely amazing people who I would love to be friends with if we didn't have an ocean and 5577 miles between us.

This week has been too relaxing already. From day one I felt fully rested. Without the activity of my home to keep me up late and the kids who still like to wake me up at night, I wake up each morning to the rhythmic tapping of the woodpeckers in the white oak trees feeling great and ready to tackle a day of play. Today's agenda: the beach.

Just an hour away Santa Cruz was our first destination, not for its beaches or famous boardwalk, but for the food. And it was totally worth the drive. Vasilis Greek Restaurant served up the best Greek food that I've had in a while and the pita is the best I think I've had anywhere. Delicious!

Sprinkled along the unspoilt California Coast are a beautiful collection of old lighthouses, still in use to warn ships away from the rocky coastline. Regal trademarks of the sea, I can't help but stop and photograph them when I see them. I've been inside this one, I think, a long time ago. Now, it's enough to just stand outside and admire it. The Pigeon Point Lighthouse rests between Santa Cruz and my favorite beach - Pebble Beach of Pescadero. I make that distinction because most people will hear Pebble Beach and think of that posh overly popular, but not as pretty, seaweed covered beach where the golf coarse is just between Monterrey and Carmel to the south. MY Pebble Beach is just barely south of Pescadero, a speck on the map so small that most will pass it without even knowing it's there. But that too, is part of its beauty.

This Pebble Beach is, for me, the ideal beach. It is the beach combers beach. A beach for explorers and dreamers. You can't surf there. You can build sand castles. It isn't a place to be seen by the masses. It's just there for those who would take it in and it's still my #1 place to go every time I'm home. The mosaics that my grandfather made years ago that still adorn the walls in his home are covered, partially, in pebbles from my beach. So, it's kinda in my blood, I think.

The parking lot, sitting level with the highway, rests above this small section of coastline splitting it into two halves that could not be more different. Half, and always the first half I visit, is a cozy cove down a small flight of stairs covered in thick layers of tiny pebbles in all colors and a few teenie shells - snail shells and little hats. I used to sit and sift through them with my fingers looking for tiny agates that would allow the sun to shine though and small pieces of a green stone that looks a lot like jade. I still do, actually. And all my girls have done the same.

In the photos over the years, we have decades of photographs of the same beach, the same shoreline, and the same rock formations that remind my dad and I of a fish. We still take those same photos every time we go there. It's a tradition.

The other half of my beach is one innumerable tide pools nesting among gigantic hunks of rock that we must climb over and around in order to make our way down. The tide pools, over time, seem to have lost much of the life was once abundant and common. I used to see starfish and sea anemones. Today I didn't even see a hermit crab at my beach. That worries me.

The tide was out today enough for us to walk down further than I'd ever been, past where we always see the sea lions basking in the sun and playing in the water just out of reach. We walked until Tiara screamed. Then, without a way to continue without passing by an old dried out seagull carcass, we had to turn and go back.

Nothing like a large cup of coffee and something sweet to warm you up and keep you going. After one beach, we were ready for a rest before tackling another and Peet's Coffee was exactly the thing. This chain has sprung up all over California and it was great. The coffee and food choices were delicious!

Moss Beach, Half Moon Bay
Here's another childhood memory revisited, but it too has changed. Dad used to live right across from this protected beach where the most beautiful sea shells littered the beach and the tide pools were so full of creatures that many of them we had to look up in books to identify. Today it was beautiful still with it's crashing waves, splatters of seaweed covered rocks, and warm hills along the shore, but it's changed too. There were very few shells at all and certainly nothing special. We saw sea anemones and a large jellyfish, but that was about it. Tiara jumped off of a rock and lost one pink flip-flop in the fast moving sand, so she hobbled back to the car early. Dad and I walked until we saw more sea lions and, this time, the rocks led from the sand, all the way to where they lay. If they weren't skittish, I could have walked right up to them. So, I tried. I got within about 10 feet before they jumped into the protection of the cold salty Pacific.
California beaches are so special. Actually, I think all the West coast can boast amazing beaches. They are rocky and varied. So picturesque and never dull. I love that the California coastline is relatively undeveloped. Between Monterrey and San Francisco (and farther in either direction), there lie long untouched portions of beach with an occasional public beach or a farm house sprinkled here and there along the way. There are a couple towns, but between those is just raw beauty. It's perfect.

Once again the Italians put together a beautiful evening rich with their culture. Their warmth and hospitality always shine at their events. Tonight they cooked three delicious pasta dishes for us in the colors of their flag- green pesto, a rich red Sicilian eggplant pasta, and a white rice dish with two cheeses. The last two were the best and I am including the recipes below.

The theme of the night was music celebrating Pavarotti and 50 years of Volare, a popular Italian song that's been sung by many bands including the Gypsy Kings and Dean Martin.

Wow. There is some incredible talent in that group. They all sung together, but two of the ladies took the microphones and sung Volare and several other songs. Their voices were beautiful and powerful - it was like sitting through a concert. They danced in traditional red, white, and green costumes, then, of course, we all joined them for a long evening celebrating together.

We played a trivia game about Italian opera and won bars of hazelnut chocolate and some of the ladies practiced one of the traditional dances with the ladies in costume.

Many of the door prizes were handmade which is always a very special touch and they had many treats for us to buy as well.

I was happy to sit at a very mixed up table with a couple of my best Turkish friends, some other Turkish ladies that I don't know as well, a German lady, and a few Americans. It was a nice mix and we all had fun despite some of the language barriers. It went long which is perfectly in tune with the Italian culture that knows how to relax and play and generally enjoys a long stretched out evening. I danced until 11 with them. My Turkish friend, Meral, and I were the last non-Italians there dancing and celebrating. It's wonderful to be a part of that.

I feel like I've really grown up here. Relaxed a little, mellowed a lot, and have grown in confidence. This is a good place for me. I love these people.

I think I'm finally able to understand the snow bird syndrome. Before now I had realized, of course, that there are a lot of health problems in older people that are exacerbated by the cold, wet weather, hence the major flocking of seniors to hot sunny spots like Florida and Arizona each winter.

But, I think it's more than just an easing of arthritis pain. I think it's mental too. When I was a kid, the weather had absolutely no impact other than spoiling a play date here or there. Now, (yes, as I age) days without sun are getting to me. Not that a little sunless weather is going to throw me into some unrecoverable depression. I'm fine. And while among the string of cloudy days, I hardly notice a difference, but oh, when that sun comes out, I feel like a completely new person. Forget spas. I just need a little dose of sun and a smidgen of warmth even if it's the bit of warmth from a sun soaked car.

Yesterday delivered exactly the mental medicine I needed in one complete day of absolute blue-sky sun. No bouts of rain. No hail. No changes at all for an entire day. The curtains were flung carelessly open as if in some over dramatized commercial, and I found myself smiling, almost ridiculously, in sheer joy, for no real reason other than my mood change aux soliel.

So, I had a lovely Spanish morning with my friends platicando, and then had an hour to kill before I picked up Elise, so I parked in GK and just walked. Stepping into shops here and there, walking into the church in the square for the first time, and taking pictures of random things. At Elise' school I arrived just a few minutes early, so I took a walk in the cemetery there. Filled with the noises of the birds singing and the children laughing, it's more botanical garden than cemetery, each grave a mini garden in and of itself. Planted flowers, glass vases with fresh tulips, and baskets everywhere of planted blooms and decorative eggs. Full of life, there is no place for sadness.

Photos: Hydrangeas for sale at a blumenhaus, the handle on the church door in GK, the church with the fountain statue in the foreground, the inside of the church, Elise in pink on a large teter-totter thing in her school playground, a floral basket by a grave in the Gillrath cemetery.

This is a sign up in the ladies bathroom near the post office on the base. It's there for the Americans who are not used to the German way of sorting the trash. In German public restrooms, this is understood. I am SO very glad that I am not a cleaning lady. There is something to be said for throwing garbage and never looking at it again.

Extremes in weather, grade, and angle marked today where we began at fog steeped Twin Peaks, discovered the Other Crooked Road, drove up and down nightmare inducing inclines, and ended under clear blue skies at the old windmill by the beach.

Looked forward to the day in the City to drive around and play tourist. Had no idea how much I'd love it. And after seeing some pretty amazing towns, I can tell you that San Francisco ranks up there. No, it doesn't have quite the history that London or Paris might have, but for a relatively young US city, it's got knock-your-socks off beauty, style, color, culture, and historical treasures too.

Our plan was to find some stairways that we'd seen in the book Stairways of San Francisco, walk Lombard, and see the "Other Crooked Street." Anything else was just extra, so we started our day, hoping for sun, but finding the oh so typical weather we all come to know and tolerate in San Fran. The first things I noticed were the houses. Unique and colorful, neat and tidy - the area below Twin Peaks was full of very nice houses, all separate on small lots and all with very distinct architectural styles and colors. The City is known for it's color. Like a misplaced Mediterranean town, it's houses can come in any hue from pink to violet, chartreuse to cobalt - and some how it all looks beautiful. The view from Twin Peaks is normally fantastic. Today, it was non-existent. There, in the photo, you can see the wall, the telescope and the thick foggy drape obscuring what would normally be a phenomenal view of the city. Driving a little farther, we got a bit of the view peaking from under the fog... the top of the towers weren't even visible though and they aren't that tall.

From there, we wound through the city over towards the Presidio taking the long, relaxing tourist route to Geary Street where we knew we'd find food. The Presidio provided a nice foggy view of the Golden Gate with the tops completely hidden. Up at the top of the hill, we drove by the Legion of Honor where even from the road driving by, I could see the signature style of Chihuly peaking through the columns. So we stopped and I was able to see a Chihuly structure assembled right there. Boxes of swirly glass pieces sat on the platforms where the artists stood assembling the sculpture. Blankets on the ground around the roped off exhibit were covered in carefully placed pieces of glass in yellows, reds, and blues. Four people were working together to assemble it. I asked one lady if she had instructions. "No." The artists assembling Chihuly's work have the flexibility to put it together in any way that they choose, so the sculpture as it travels, will never be exactly the same. It is; however, divided into sections, so there is a plan that is followed to some extent giving them some basic guidelines from which they can get creative. I was happy enough to see it. After seeing the large Chihuly exhibit in Oklahoma City, I can't help but be a bit mesmerized by the sheer size of these things alone and then the colors and patterns just kind of carry me away.

Before Tiara and I even left for California, we sat down to talk food. I informed her that realistically, we wouldn't be eating out every day (boy, was I ever wrong), so we should come up with our #1, got to eat it, most favorite food ever to pursue. Dim Sum took the unanimous vote without the slightest hesitation. So today, we went to Yet Wah, a Chinese Dim Sum restaurant that I'd been to before with my Aunt Margie. This is where we had, among other things, the most delicious pot stickers I've ever eaten - and I've eaten A LOT of pot stickers in my life. The Su Mi and pork buns were delicious too and though it looked kind of strange, the "sweet rice with special meat wrap in lotus leaf" was not sweet, but savory and flavorful -- a must order again! Most Chinese restaurants only serve dim sum on the weekends and will come around with carts through the entire meal, so you simply tell them what you want and don't want from the carts and you pay by the number of plates. This place serves dim sum every day, but instead of carts, we had a very nice menu to fill out telling them what we wanted. The waitress did place one thing on the table, briefly, that we did not order. Thankfully, I recognized it - chicken feet - and sent it on to it's proper place on another table. I'm sure they're good, but I just can't mentally enjoy a chicken foot. Below are photos of three of the nine different things we enjoyed. I ate everything but the mango pudding... love mango, love pudding, but the Chinese mango puddings have a texture that I just can't handle. Tiara doesn't eat seafood, so she stuffed herself on pork buns and pot stickers.

From lunch we wen to Alamo square, a large city block green space surrounded on all sides by the "painted ladies" of San Francisco. No, we weren't in a questionable area, we parked and walked around the park and down some side streets where every home was an old Victorian, immaculately kept, and beautifully painted. Through the windows you could see beautiful archways and fine old fixtures hanging from the ceilings. Stained glass windows and fancy flourishes are standard. The colors varied from the subtle and tasteful to the brights and pastels in purples, pinks, and peacocks, but even those homes that would look garish somewhere else, looked perfectly splendid here amongst the others.

The sky, cloudy when we began, had brightened up a bit by the time our walk ended. By the time we reached our car, the park had filled a bit more with people taking pictures as we did of those famous 6 houses and of people walking their dogs.




From there we began our quest to find the "other crooked street" in San Francisco rumored to be curvier than Lombard. Shorter, but possibly curvier, this other street nestled into a hard to find corner of Potrero Hill, provided us a nice walk and beautiful views once we found it. Finding it was a challenge though making it quite clear why Lombard is the one with the notoriety. Potrero Hill had some nice trails winding through the hill near the not-quite-famous street. It had the small neighborhood charm as well with a small playground and a community garden. Tiara laughed and cheered as we climbed hills so steep we almost had the feeling we'd fall backwards. These are the types of hills that give people nightmares. All the adults cringed. Tiara, the one who has never been behind the wheel of a car, found delight in the inclines.

Content with Potrero, we headed over to the opposite end of San Francisco to walk Lombard - something I'd never done. Driven it, yes, but never walked it. I hadn't expected crowds. Silly me. Lombard street is one of those boxes that tourists check off on their lists of sights, and why not? It's not just a insanely sloped hair-pin street, but it's lined with nice houses, perfectly manicured shrubbery, and from the top you have the most amazing views of Alcatraz and the bay on one side and Coit tower sitting on the opposite hill directly in front of you. It's beautiful. The walk takes 5 minutes or less. Fifteen if you're like us and take a photograph every two steps. Seriously. I understand why my children complain. A typical day of me playing tourist might be something like, "right foot, left foot, stop, take a picture... right, left, pause, click, right, left, right, pause, turn, click click" and so on.





Driving down Lombard we followed the road right up to Coit Tower, a monument erected in honor of Lillie Hitchcock Coit who left 1/3 of her estate to the city of San Francisco for beautification. We didn't do the tour - it really isn't necessary. Walking around the inside on the lower floor is free and gives you access to some beautiful murals painted there. Then outside, there are beautiful views of the downtown areas and the bay with Alcatraz clearly visible. Plus, the tower itself is pretty and a series of stairways winds down the hill allowing for some nice stair hikes if you're feeling adventurous. I heard a couple speaking Dutch which was fun for me. I wanted to say hello to them, but only know "hi" in the Limburg dialect and not in the Dutch spoken in most of the country. We enjoyed the stair walks and the views. And we all took photos of the US flag flying from a building - something we just don't see here enough. And now I know I took that for granted while living there, 'cause seeing it now really stands out and I can't help feel a bit of pride. The sight of those colors really did put a smile on our faces - both of us.






Tired from a long day of driving around the city, walking up and down stairways, and sightseeing, we found ourselves at the bottom of telegraph hill in the Italian district near the beautiful white church on the park block and a lovely little cafe - Cafe Divine. And it was divine. The atmosphere was lovely with large art pieces high on the walls, a gorgeous copper espresso machine sitting proudly on the marble topped bar next to an exotic arrangement of flowers and the barista cooly preparing quite possibly one of if not THE best cafe lattes that I've ever had. Amazing. Coupled with the to-die-for desserts - a lemon tart and something so chocolately good that there was not a crumb left on Dad and Angie's plate, I'm about ready to move to this little district. Surely at least a few days of eating my way through this quaint district would not be a bad thing?


On the drive home we made one quick stop at the old windmill at Queen Wilamina's garden in Golden Gate park just across the highway from the beach and well within range of that cool salty air. The tulips were still closed, waiting for a day of full sun to warm them, but the poppys were out and showing off for the visitors who lounged there taking pictures and admiring the beauty. From there began the slow drive home lingering along the coastal roads as long as we could watching the sun set on the crashing waves and the hang gliders soaring above the cliffs at Fort Funstun.

And that was the end to our very full day of touring San Francisco. I could spend weeks there and not get enough. It's large, but so well divided into little districts and neighborhoods each boasting it's own culture and personality, that the bigness of SF melts away and you can feel cozy and safe sitting in one small corner sipping something soothing and watching the views. Ahhh... the views. This city with it's hills has views from every angle. I think my favorites are from the Presidio - those views of the bridge that mean so much. The combination of sea and steel. It's beautiful there.