Life: Idiotropic

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.

Today I went to a Belgian Bakery in Aachen with a friend and 18 other people to watch and learn how to make a "Lemon Raspberry Souffle." We were there for two hours listening, watching, and practicing. Each step of the cake was demonstrated and we saw it assembled. Because of the time constraints, we didn't actually bake this cake from start to finish, but we all got to play with chocolate on cold granite slates. I made two chocolate curls and a two-colored chocolate butterfly to put on this cake which I also decorated with fruit. I left with the recipe, my cake, and a hope to learn more.

The owner is a German architect who bought a bakery over 20 years ago to remodel and reinvent. Pairing up with a French speaking Belgian baker, they've created quite a successful business that now franchises in the area. Each of their cafes is themed after an artist. We met at the bakery itself where it is all made. Wow. I couldn't keep my eyes off the beautiful stainless steel counter tops, the rack of bake forms and the enormous whisk. The kitchen was absolutely beautiful and all the chefs were helpful and friendly even though I wasn't efficient in any of their languages, they did try English and I did try German and French. Still, with cooking, most of the learning is in watching and doing. So I watched, and then I played with chocolate.

The result was beautiful and delicious. The kids all enjoyed a piece when I got home and we have enough for breakfast tomorrow.

P.S. Before I went to the class, I stopped at an amazing makeup shop in Aachen owned by Malu Wilz, a friend of the friend I was with. She created this line and just won a German lifetime achievement award for it. Not only is this color and skin care line about beauty and health, but she has done amazing things for camouflage for different scares and birth defects. Beautiful products and from a great person. We went upstairs and enjoyed a coffee with one of her very friendly employees.

Shhhhhopping. What a beautiful, calming, soothing word. Ok, for some like my husband, for whom the idea of shopping can make physically ill, shopping may not be quite so calming, but for Tiara and I living in a land where every price tag whispers "add 35% or more" and being quite shopping mall deprived, this place, this mecca of shopping opportunities where one can find two story Old Navy's and a plethora of bookstores that have books - IN ENGLISH -- Oh, what a joy it all is! Shopping in dollars almost makes me want to skip down a yellow brick sidewalk and click my heels and the brightly colored shopping bags rustle back and forth.

Yes, no sightseeing today unless you count the historic sign in Redwood City that's been there for practically eons stating "Climate Best by Government Test." And my always anticipated visit to my favorite local store, the Redwood Trading Post - a proud part of my family since 1964. It's a must. I love my family store. And I found a great new coat and some cute folding chairs for the little girls.

Tiara had a gift card to Borders Books, so we had to go there and oh, how I've missed that. Coffee, stationary, and books all in one place. All I need is a tent from the Trading Post and I could be quite content for a long stay. Poor Dad and Angie... waiting while Tiara and I slowly perused, reading each title, making mental and written lists of books we want to read, running our fingers across the covers and trying to breathe it all in. And, now that I'm actually reading again above a 3rd grade reading level (a new accomplishment for me since Arianna was born), it's exciting to look at these printed treasures knowing it's now possible to lose myself in them.

The fabric store was just as bad. Yes, they have beautiful fabrics here, but not the same variety of flannels and ribbons and, of course, not the same prices. Tiara even found fabric she liked and bought it hoping to make a blanket... (she's already started, gotten frustrated, ripped out the seams, and asked for help... that's today's project).

I won't bore you any longer with the list of shops, but unlike my preconceptions that it would an informational overload after my time in Germany, it was instead exhilarating, therapeutic, and strangely liberating all at once. Kind of like the feeling of flying down a mountain on skis. Refreshing and fun. A rush.

Tiara enjoyed it too though it was funny to see her uncertainty. My almost 13 didn't know how to get a dressing room at Nordstrom - oh, poor sheltered child! Cute stuff though. This is the outfit she didn't get though she loved it - my level-headed child decided that $68 was too much for a pair of jeans no matter how comfortable they were.

Note: Today we lunched at the Mediterranean Deli and dined on take-out from New York Pizza. Mmmmm. Am working hard on developing a higher cultural awareness through food. :)

Preface to the series of posts on my recent trip to California:

Entry not backdated to fit in chronologically as usual -- written post trip over a few days. I can't seem to get my mind focused on anything, so it's hard to put anything down - even something simple like a trip back home. But then, this trip wasn't entirely simple either. There was a purpose to it and the timing while a blessing, kinda through me for a loop.

I went to San Francisco to celebrate my dad's 60th birthday, my grandfather's 86th, and to spend some quality time with both my dad and my grandparents. After all, I hadn't been home in 2.5 years. Hadn't set foot in my country in that long. It was time.

I went, I saw, I marveled at the wonder and beauty of the place I call home, reawakened to all those things that I'd previously taken fore granted. I spent quality time with my dad and had two good visits with my grandparents.

Literally, we made a list and checked off every single important thing, plus added a few things in just for fun. And, so I will blog that list, essentially, as I did things and add photos and show all the great foods we ate and places we saw. All of it mattered. My dad took the entire time off so every moment counted. But, in typing that, there are several hours that while spent well, I ache knowing I could have spent them better - may be.

Words usually come pretty easily, but there doesn't seem to be a good way to convey a tragedy. And tragedies and blessings can march hand in hand at times. The blessing is the time I spent with my grandfather. The tragedy is his passing just one week ago today. More needs to be said, but I'm still processing this one. Still... looking back on the week and those two days spent sitting together at his dining room table, there's no way to write about it without putting it in perspective. Each little thing now carries with it more weight.

So on to the trip...

Day One:

Blame jet lag for the sideways photo and my lack of motivation to fix it. Hmm... wonder how long I can blame jet lag? For now, it's a good excuse.

Wow. I love my country. I love California. It's sunny and blue, clean, beautiful... friendly. I'd forgotten how wide the streets are, how clean and bright everything looks, and how absolutely amazing it feels to talk with people - just random strangers - in that open, friendly way that we do in the states - or at least on the west coast. Oh, how great it felt to be able to smile and idly chat with cashiers and waiters or people on the sidewalk.

I saw it differently today. After two and a half years of admiring the slightest details in Europe, it's opened my eyes to those same beautiful details that I missed before at home. So today, on the way to lunch, we pulled over to take pictures of a bank with a beautiful mosaic mural that covered the entire face of the building. I felt a little silly - not used to being a tourist at home, but then again, if I were in Italy and saw a facade like this, of course, I'd go crazy with photos of it. It's beautiful! So I did. I took pictures of this building up close and afar, the gas station sign next door with the gas prices listed, and the tall white building across the street with "Benjamin Franklin" written across the top in over sized letters. Tiara and I were excited about the large group of bicyclists riding by (not one of them in hot pink - a very acceptable men's color in Europe), and the palm and eucalyptus trees scattered around everywhere.

We lunched at Nawab - a fantastic Indian restaurant in San Mateo enjoying their generous lunch buffet and stuffing ourselves like we have only done in America. Great food. Such flavors. And, shock of the century - at least for me - the food prices! I can afford to eat!!! Of course, the night before I flew to California, Kirk and I, thinking that 1) we were hungry and 2) that it was our 10-year anniversary, so we ought not to just go our separate ways without some stab at celebration, went to a small hotel cafe - the only place we could find open on Good Friday in Zaventum, BE - and attempted to eat. The prices alone were enough to choke on, so knowing that Kirk and the little girls could go home and eat properly, Tiara and I ordered small meals, Kirk ordered a small meal, and the little girls had cocoa and fries. The food was average with the exception of the Neuhaus chocolate eggs that accompanied my coffee and the girl's cocoas, and the portions were small, but the bill was 81 Euros which translates to about $127 USD. Ouch. Ahhh... so the joy of eating excellent food and paying 1/3 of that - wonderful. Absolutely wonderful. Makes me wish I was a bear or camel and I could just eat and eat and stockpile it all in lovely rolls of fat, then live off of that for the next year or however long until I could come back to the Bay area and eat properly. (By the way - that young woman in the photo above is Tiara - incredible, huh? I just know I'm not nearly old enough nor mature enough to have an almost teenager already? She's supposed to still be my little blond girl with ringlets... oh, where does the time go????)

This morning was our first morning in California and there wasn't even the slightest hint of jet lag - thank goodness. Angie made the most delicious cup of coffee from a local roaster. I enjoyed the luxury of eating a whole avocado on my English muffin (I hadn't had avocados since we moved to Germany - yes, we get them in the stores, but they are expensive and not nearly as good as a California avocado). Then I called and spoke with my grandparents right away to see when we could visit.

Normally, I would call on the first day, they would check their busy schedules, and we'd pick the day or two that would work. Today was different. Grandpa had been sick. He was home. Grandma was home with him. To my surprise, Grandpa said, "how about today?" Yes, today. Of course. We met them at 2pm after stopping at Starbucks first to get coffees for everyone including Grandma's cappuccino extra dry. Grandma set out delicious cookies, chocolate macaroons, and cheesecake. Grandpa was sitting in the garden enjoying the sun.

Then we sat and talked. Grandpa asked, "spreche sie Deutch?"
"Ya, ich spreche nur ein bissien Deutch"

Just a couple more sentences in German, then we switched briefly to Spanish. Grandpa loves language and is proud of the range that he can speak. Then to English, of course, where everyone can participate.

We spent 4 hours there talking. Grandpa told us a little about his time in Budapest and I told him a little about my life in Germany. We even covered the taboo subjects of politics and religion discussing this year's election prospects and the differences in Christian churches. It was quiet. No fanfare. Just relaxed talk with my grandfather. Moments that will remain precious to me, but can't be described here, really. You know - we all have those people - those precious people with whom just a few minutes can mean so much. It doesn't need to be exciting, but you just know that you are in the presence of someone absolutely amazing. Well... I can only dress up a conversation over coffee and cookies so much, but, my grandfather was one of those people. One of those absolutely amazings who never wasted a single day. A man that I'd be proud to know even if he wasn't my grandfather - but he was MY grandfather, so it makes me just that much prouder.

By 6 it was late... time to go. Dragging our feet a bit. Good bye was hard even then. And then instead of the straight shot back, my dad took us on a little tour of Pacifica, the town where he grew up climbing the hills and exploring ever corner. Up and around Pedro point, then over to the Sharp Park pier at sunset for a nice walk and some photo ops. Saw the fisherman and some friendly sea gulls. Watched the waves lap against the barnacle encrusted pilings and lost myself in the patterns and layers of the white foam capped waves breaking upon the rocks on the shore. Watched people taking walks. Tourists with cameras, locals together. Friends and dates. Peace and the sun's glow upon the Pacific.