Life: Idiotropic

Rest. Quiet.

As if by magic, almost all the German flags and lined the streets flying out of every window of both house and car have disappeared. They are gone without a trace. As if there were none there yesterday when the air was filled with Euro Cup preparations. Just yesterday it was all over the radio, internet, and television. German companies would close early. Production lines would actually stop for the game costing the companies money - but this was the Euro Cup and it was worth it. All the Germans would be watching. And if they'd won, we would have heard the honking all night. The flags would still fly.

But Spain won. And today was silent. No talk. No flags. Just silence. As if it had never happened. As if there wasn't a Euro cup just a few hours before.

ganz ruhig

Exhilaration! I just got back from an evening at the home of a Spanish friend watching the Euro Cup final with the Spanish - an intense game between Spain and Germany! Only one goal was scored, but that's all Spain needed. They were continually making tries for the goal and kept the ball on that half most of the game. Amazing.

Noemi made tapas. I made brownies. We had soda and beer. Shouted and cheered... "venga, venga!" "Ole" Waved our arms and wished the kickers luck. Jumped. All our hearts beat faster. Beatriz kept screaming. We were all nervous.

And the seconds ticked down. Tension grew. And Spain won. Screaming, jumping, hugging...

And then the discussion. Half the group wanted to take the Spanish flag and go to the square and shout and beep the horns and wave the flag - what they would do in Spain and what the Germans would have done if they'd won. But we live here. This is Germany. And the other half were nervous and felt it would provoke the Germans and cause trouble. So we celebrated briefly in. Drank Spanish Cava.

Kirk and I drove home. His horn blaring for Spain all the way. The streets were silent, nearly abandoned. His horn blared alone. We saw no flags. No one celebrated. I think the Germans were in shock.

So the season is over and I won't hear the horns until the next big soccer season. It would have been fun to see the celebration here in Germany - we do live here and it's fun to be a part of that culture. But I am so happy that Spain won. It was the first major win in 44 years and they certainly worked hard for it. Go Spain!

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20080629/ap_on_sp_so_ga_su/soc_euro2008_final

Today was two-fold.

First, I took the girls on a walk up to the top of a coal refuse pile. Sounds exciting, huh? Actually, it was pretty cool. This entire region gained importance due to the coal mining that existed here. Now the evidence lies in man made hills created from the coal refuse. This park, the Carl Alexander Park, just opened a couple weeks ago. A long green area lies along one side of the hill with playground equipment that kept the kids busy for a long time and walking/biking paths winding around and up the "mountain." There's an unusually large modern bright red building standing out like a sore thumb right in the middle of it all - strange for the natural beauty around it to see this obvious obtrusion to the scene. But, through it, there's a staircase that leads to a series of metal ramps that take you up until you hit the mountain and can climb the stairs. I didn't realize that Arianna had a fear of heights, but she was terrified by the ramp with nothing below it. Elise was mocking, "I'm not scared, Aria." Poor Aria clutched my hand all the way until we reached the stairs, but she made it!

The view - beautiful! Even Arianna decided that it was worth it. The metal stairs led to the flat top of the hill and a narrow cement pathway that led safely to a large observation platform on the other end. On either side of the path and platform were black flaky rocks - some in clear layers, some shiny and round, and others with fossil impressions of leaves. I enjoyed the view. The girls picked through the rocks. All three asked if we could go again - especially Elise. She loved it!

Sometimes it takes good bye to realize how special people are. Sad. I've known how special these people are and I've cherished the Fridays that we've spent together these 2 1/2 years, but now that they're leaving, I am recalling just how much we've learned from each other and just how much fun we've had. I taught them how to carve pumpkins for Halloween and cooked them their first Thanksgiving dinner. They taught me how to make tortilla espanola and fed me paella. We shared our languages, our cultures, jokes... It's been a wonderful time. We've developed a special friendship. And I am so thankful that they were part of my life here. I will miss my Spanish mornings with Maria and Joana.

Tonight we met at Hotel Jabusch in Geilenkirchen to sit, talk, and say our goodbyes. Noemi and I got them Italian charm bracelets with the German, Spanish, and US flags on them. We all cried - more than any of us thought we would. The kids, as if they knew this time was especially dear, ran off and played in the nearby garden happily and didn't disturb us at all. This is the last photo taken before we disbursed. Maria is in the blue jeans. Joana is next to her with the purse. Noemi is in black holding Sonia's baby. I just met Sonia tonight. She's at the end with the little boy. Carmen is next to me in brown. I'm the one that is obviously not Spanish - the one with the pasty white legs.

We were about to leave, but the girls were hungry and they were setting up the big screen televisions outside where we'd been sitting, so after all the Spanish left, the girls and I sat down and ate dinner there outside on the patio watching the Spain/Russia game of the World Cup Finals. The long tables filled up quickly. A temporary bar was set up off to the side. Two large trees provided shade as if we actually had a patio cover over us. Large white lights made it feel festive and summery.

Luci saw an old man sitting on a bench a few feet away playing the harmonica. Luci is both inquisitive and fearless, but even more, can find beauty in people that most would dismiss. I watched her carefully, but allowed her to go and listen. She smiled at him and he played a more spirited tune. It seemed he enjoyed the audience and Luci was happy to give it. When he finished and began to roll a cigarette, I made her return. He was babbling a bit and adults in the area were treating him as if he were a bit crazy, so I'll ere on the safe side. Luci is a gem though. I love that she can see that beauty and has the self assurance to express her appreciation of people that others dismiss.

The game began. There were Germans at the table with us, Russians at the table next to us, and a huge group of German youth wrapped up in Spanish flags at the table down a few. People fill in and sit where there are seats. Personal space is not the same. It's nice, really. One Russian man was trying to teach Russian words to the older German lady sitting next to him and she was trying to say them. It was an eclectic mix and fun to see. It absolutely down poured during the game in Vienna and the camera kept panning to the sky to catch the frequent lightening bolts lighting it up. Players slipped and slid everywhere falling into each other. And... SPAIN WON! 3-0. I'm happy! Now Spain will play Germany in for the World Cup title on Sunday!

If you don't want to read the rantings of the quasi insane or the extreme overuse of the pronoun "I," then stop here. Don't read any further. It is just venting. Mindless frustration in orthographical form. I try to keep my delirium from this blog, but I need to vent.

Today was Elise's definitively last day of German school - ever. And Laurim's birthday party. Two German experiences neatly packaged into one day.

I made cupcakes last night, wrapped some nice gifts for the classroom, and had goodie bags with notes ready to pass out to all the children.

Elise was excited to hand out the gifts, but cried when I left. Good. I needed her to cry to remind me that I was making the right decision about ending our German school experience.

When I dropped her off, Dave's mom (who's always been very nice, but speaks minimal English - really) asked me if it was Elise' last day and looked genuinely sad when I told her that Elise wouldn't be returning. She'd hoped that Elise and Dave would start school together in two years. She told me that I really must stop at her home and have coffee with her. That's the first invitation I've ever received from a mom to be social. I reciprocated the offer and I will follow up. She, I think, honestly cares.

Then there's the others.

This year has been hard. Really hard. Hard on Elise. Hard on me. I went into that school from day one speaking German. Now, it's bad German - horribly infantile German, but it's German. I haven't expected them to speak English and I've muddled through. After all, I am in their country and I need to try. Parents spoke German to me. Teachers spoke German to me. I kind of assumed (wrongly so) that they didn't speak English. And that's ok. I was ok with that. When I couldn't express myself because the language impaired me, I didn't switch to English, I just let it go. It was obvious that there was a break in conversation. They heard the sigh of frustration and the "never mind." I walked away so many times frustrated and defeated just because I lacked the words to say what I needed to say. But, I kept trying. I kept speaking. Day after day we went. They'd send notes home and I'd read them. They'd post notes on the doors and I'd stand there for long minutes trying to decipher them. No one stopped to help. But that was ok.

I know that Germans can be slow to warm up. That's ok too. I get it.

So, this whole year Elise and I have been going through this experience doing our best. And then the week before Elise birthday party just last month a woman I've seen the entire year looked at me and asked me a question, in very clear English, about the party. So, after nine months, I learn that she has lived in England and speaks excellent English. At Elise' party, I meet a father who also speaks absolutely beautiful English and he speaks in English the entire time, quite cheerfully too.

Two weeks ago at the Schutzenfest, this tall father speaks to me at first auf Deutch, then says one sentence in English before switching back to German. I was shocked. Had no idea. Before it was just an occasional "hallo."

And today. Oh today. Today was like a slap in the face. Really. I'd come to the realization last week that probably one of the key factors in Elise' experience was my experience. That school wasn't just school, but a community and a circle of friends. At the International Preschool where English is the predominant language, even with the Italians, it is easier to make those friendships not only with the children, but with the mothers. We all live in separate villages, but we can get together outside of school and our children can nurture those friendships. Elise has needed that here too. She's wanted that. But as much as I've tried, I've been an outsider and haven't been able to connect with the mother's there. We've been cordial, but not enough to allow for play times or social events outside of school - and we're all neighbors. So I've felt bad. Felt like I failed Elise a little because I wasn't able to hold up my end of it. Wasn't able to connect enough to make those connections for her.

So, with all that - to pick up Elise today and hear all these mothers in their sweetest voices tell me IN ENGLISH how sorry they are to see Elise go just killed me. NOW??? Now is too late. We needed the warmth a couple months ago. And I needed to hear English - just a little - a couple months ago. If they couldn't speak it, fine. But when they can? Even a little helps.

And today at the birthday party, the tall father who'd muttered only a sentence before walks over and begins a full conversation in English almost without accent. And a woman walks up and joins in and we are all standing there speaking together. And they are friendly and warm. And we can communicate. And I'm thinking, why now? And why couldn't I have known sooner. Because I certainly didn't know them well enough relying on my pitiful German skills. And they certainly didn't know me. I was this ignorant sounding frau without a personality. How can you have a personality when you are stumbling over words?

And I asked this lady how her English was so perfect. "I work on the base, so I must speak English well." And so I asked her, "Why am I just learning that so many of you speak English?" And she replied, "Well, if we speak English to you, then how are you going to learn German?"

And I felt winded. Like she'd just punched me - hard. So they've listened to me struggle the entire year understanding and not saying anything - not even once - to help.

I am not an American who doesn't try. I'm not one who moves here expecting American and expecting people to speak English to me. I do try. But, I speak Spanish. A third language is hard. And, I have four children. The time for classes and study is nonexistent. But they don't know that because they don't know me. They've just decided with no information that I somehow need to learn and by not helping me at all, that they are somehow helping me. Americans move so much - should we learn every language when we land? No. Please, thank you, numbers... the things we need. That is reasonable.

So, this birthday party after 10 months of school was the first non-school thing that Elise has been invited to and we were happy to go. It was at the Hay Hotel and Elise had a fantastic time playing games on the playground, feeding a baby cow, seeing bunnies, and playing in the hay. She loved every minute of it and I'm sad for her that this is over. She will miss her friends and she will miss the German school, but I know that we've made the right decision. Next year she'll go to the International Preschool where she'll learn her letters and numbers, where she'll be prepared for an American kindergarten class, and where I can communicate with the parents and she can play with her friends.

I was editing a Lisbon entry on my other blog... but got distracted.

I think it's safe to say that Germany won. The air horn started up about 15 minutes ago followed by a few screaming teenagers yelling as they walked down the street. Now we have a parade of vehicles traveling in both directions blaring their horns (hand firmly pressed onto horn without release), driving with large German flags waving jubilantly from the open car windows and arms waving just as exuberantly from windows and convertible roofs, emergency lights blinking on and off, and one with the side doors of the car open clearly revealing the boys sitting inside with their open beer bottles in hand. How drunk do you have to be to 1) forget to close the door of your van, 2) not realize that it's open as you're driving down the B56 at non-legal speeds, and 3) don't really care that you're sitting next to a huge gaping hole in the car. I saw the open bottle of beer in his hand. Was too astonished at the rest of it to notice if he was wearing his seat belt. Dangerous, no? That's gotta top the list of something strange today.

It's almost 11 - too dark for photos... otherwise, I'd be posting one of four bicyclists riding together... the leader wearing the German flag like a cape, and the three others with large German flags held high in their hands waving in the wind.

Ok, seriously... the horns, I can handle, but airhorn boy has GOT to stop. It's making me cranky. I am so thankful that I live surrounded by old people. I can hear a constant drone of drunken yelling in the distance. Grateful it's in the distance and Tinny isn't whooping it up next door.

Just when I think it's quiet... it all starts up again. We were warned by the Turkish Embassies that if Turkey won that the party would last a while. I think this one may last a bit too. There is, well, without going into it, a bit of tension between the Turkish and the Germans. After all, there are scads of Turkish living here and when a non-indigenous population reaches certain levels, there are tensions. So, this was the big game. Let's get out the venom on the field. Good place.

My girls thrown off by summer break, a sleepless sun, and a friend over (Hattie's parents went to see the game with friends), just fell asleep literally about 4 minutes before the noise started. Good thing or they'd still be sneaking out of bed for water. Ever notice that the sneakier a kid is trying to be, the noisier they walk? Anyway... back to Lisbon...

Oh... and P.S. I did see something kind of strange yesterday too! Well, may be not so strange as irritating. I was out all day, came home a little after 4 and noticed two amorous middle aged folks showing affection leaning against what I later found out was the girl's vehicle. I stood and chatted with my friend for a long time. The couple stayed there, uh, um, enjoying each other's company. My friend didn't want to go to the bank there because she'd have to walk by them. Well... I didn't stand at my window all evening, but at 8:20 (a full 4 hours after I first saw them), I walked into my office and there they were STILL at her car in the same exact location, STILL not wanting to say goodbye - or to get a room for that matter. So the strange: 1) They weren't teenagers. One was quite gray haired. They both looked late 30's to mid+ 40's. (I'm not saying that teenagers are the only ones who can be amorous, but am just saying that I would expect the lack of control and indescretion from a younger crowd) 2)They weren't in a quiet area. They were leaning on the street side of the car right on a main road and next to a very busy ATM/banking facility and 3) They were there for at least FOUR HOURS!!! Really, my feet would hurt by then. And they both had cars! They could have sat down. Odd.

Today I went with a friend to Dusseldorf to see a specialist for a 6 hour appointment. We had no idea what to expect. The small office was spread up and down a narrow hallway, so we entered, checked in, filled out the paperwork, then was sent down to the first waiting room. Instead of seeing a nurse, I heard my friend's name called over the intercom, so we stood up and walked out of the room looking around. A nurse about 30 feet away waved at us, so we went to her and were told to wait in a different waiting room. We talked. Then it was her turn. For 30 minutes I waited, read, and people watched. I found it interesting that the seating rules are different here. Newcomers to the room would not skip a seat like we do in the states. They would sit right next to a person even if there were plenty of seats available. So, though half the room was empty, I was soon sandwiched - an old woman on one side who looked as if she wanted to talk and a young man on the other who had no desire to chat with anyone.

Rita returned with instructions to leave and return in 2 hours. So, we left, took a long walk, and had a mediocre lunch at an Imbiss (schnell cafe).

Two hours later we returned to the second waiting room to wait for 40 minutes before she went in for another test. Then I found her in a third waiting room a bit later waiting for a third test. When that was finished, we sat in the fourth and final waiting area until we could see the doctor. That was the first time she'd met the doctor. All the tests were administered by nurses and techs. Then, when he'd reviewed her entire file, he brought her in to talk with her.

We'd arrived at 9. We left at 3:30.

So, Rita is in her 60's and has a problem with her knee: atrosis. She wants an alternative to surgery. At this clinic, they can inject her knee with radioactive isotopes that will somehow attack the atrosis and lessen the swelling that causes pain. It's interesting.

When can we schedule? Not August. The only manufacturer in the world, according to this doctor, of these isotopes is in Paris, France and they are getting a new reactor in August and will not be producing anything. In his broken English, "So in the world no one has this procedure in August."

This clinic only does this procedure on Thursdays and Fridays because the "stuff" is delivered on Thursday and with time loses potency.

The cost. Yep. We had to ask. "So, if my insurance doesn't pay for this..."
"Oh, but the insurance will pay."
"But if it doesn't."
"No, all insurance will pay." (That's the socialized medicine talking)
"But I have American insurance... it may not pay..."
"Well, with the initial exam and everything, about 500 Euro."

Wow. So, knowing how insanely expensive American medicine can be, think about what a weight that was lifted of Rita's shoulders.

A long, in depth 6 hour appointment with three tests, an injection, and several scans, AND the actual fancy Radio Scintography with this stuff that is ONLY made in Paris and has a two day shelf life - all of this for only 500 Euro. That is amazing. And such a blessing.

Today was the last day of school for Elise at the International Preschool. Some of you may not have realized that Elise was going to two schools. I haven't blogged much about it, but have talked about it here a lot with Kirk and my friends.

This year has been hard for me. With all the other girls I felt absolutely certain about their schools - where they should be. Decisions were made and I never second guessed myself - at least not much. But with Elise it's been different. I've spent this entire year deliberating my decision about sending her to the German kindergarten. Some days I love it and some days are just frustrating. If Elise loved it and ran in smiling every day, then there would be no discussion, but even after 6 months - even 8 months - she cried most mornings. She'd cling to me and cry - sometimes kick - and those poor teachers would have to pry her off and console her as I walked briskly away.

So, in March I found out that there was a two day per week slot opening at the International Preschool - the little school on base where both Arianna and Luci went when we moved here. There, the teachers are all German, but they all speak and teach in English. It's a happy place. So that last week of March Elise started and that first day she ran in smiling without the slightest hesitation. Her teachers told me that she went through her day with the other kids as if she'd been going there all year. That evening she sung songs perfectly that she'd just learned that day.

These last two months were those trial months. The time when I'd observe Elise and talk to Elise about her two schools. The time when I'd talk to Kirk and we'd try to come up with a decision that we felt good about. We had full time slots available to us at both schools for next year. We just had to know which one to let go.

And today, with Elise beaming from ear to ear, proud of her graduation and the certificate they gave her, running and playing with friends she'd known only months, but played better with than the kids she'd played with all year at the other school... today I knew.

And today I had the epiphany - that bolt of lightening - the realization that it wasn't just about her. The teachers at the German school are warm and wonderful. The kids have been sweet and helpful too. Elise has fun there and talks about it all the time. She has happy memories. But as I stood and talked to other parents... and as we made our summer plans and promises to get the kids together, I realized that Elise had none of that in Gillrath. Kids who live within walking distance might as well been countries away. I hadn't been able to connect with the parents. We didn't have play dates with those kids. Her birthday was a way that we reached out and they reached back, but that was monumental and may have been too late.

And so today - with her joyful face leaping around the playground with her friends - cemented the decision on which school stays and which goes. Elise has said all along she likes her "new" school better. She's right. This place is better for her. May be better for both of us.

'Cause I see something strange almost every day...

Yesterday I was driving down the back road towards Brunssum to drop Tiara off at the bus. (She left for a one-week beach trip in Italy) I was in a rush and driving quickly weaving in and out of these annoying artificial s curves in the road that narrows an already narrow road into a definite one-laner when I saw a middle aged women walking on the sidewalk just ahead. She was probably in her 50's, had on leprechaun green sweat pants on and a top that was quite tan. Or at least that's what I thought at first. I got closer. Her top was wrinkled. Closer. She wasn't wearing a top. Nothing from the waist up. And stupid me had to make the mistake of turning around. Ugh. Yep... definitely topless strolling along a well travelled road towards the Netherlands. I'm glad they have nudity laws in the states.

Today I was cleaning my kitchen and heard what sounded like yodeling coming from those tinny old-fashioned speakers... so I looked out my window. There was an tiny old tractor painted in bright red and green pulling a bubbly 60's style small camper in the same colors. There were 4 German flags attached to the tractor waving in the air as the tractor moved slowly down the street with a parade of traffic stuck behind it. I didn't see the radio, but there were definitely speakers in there somewhere because that old oompa music was loud. That was a camera moment. Couldn't get to it in time. But funny sight.

Yes. It's after midnight and I was all warm and cozy, settled into a pile of pillows with my open copy of Reading Lolita in Tehran. Was. But the constant flow of traffic and stuttered honking of horns one, then two, then a trio... is keeping me awake. I live in a small village in farm country in a nation where a grocery store that stays open until 8 is open late. There is almost never any traffic. Past 8, the streets are almost silent except in the sugar beat season when the large trucks rumble by late into the night. And soccer season. Fussball. Germany beat Portugal. Now they'll play the winner of the Croatia v. Turkey game. Everyone watches soccer. Even the non-sporty folks like me know what's going on. And I don't even have to watch a match. The honking tells all.

Ooo... a lull. If I hurry, I might be able to fall asleep before the next round of symphonic horn blaring. Wish me luck!

The Evil Eye on the wine bottle below is a gift from a dear Turkish friend who just moved. The Evil Eye is a very important and popular symbol there and can be seen in jewelry and artwork all over Turkey. This will ward off evil spirits... if it would only ward off dust bunnies...

First the coffees....

1.
This morning was the second to last Spanish morning which is sad. Really sad. I'm not overcome with emotion, though I think there will be a huge hole left. The language barrier is just enough where we haven't leaned on each other as much as some friends might. But for the last 2+ years I've kept my Friday mornings sacred and protected - those were only for the Spanish. We talked - A LOT. We shared ideas, stories, compared our countries... ate and cooked.

This morning I sat with Pepe who will move back to Murcia and is worried because she'll be living in the upstairs flat above her mother. In Spain it's quite common for families to share houses - for adults with children of their own to share and live in the same house with their parents. There are benefits - lots of them, but for a women with children of her own - and big ones at that who has been living here completely independently for 3 years, it will be a big adjustment and she knows that.

Carmen was there. She's a newcomer to our group, so I don't know her as well, but she is spirited and fun. She laughs - a lot - and completely, so though sometimes the conversations speed supersonic and I lose the joke, I still get tickled by her infectious laugh. She's moving too - to Madrid, may be? I'm not sure.

Joana was there. She's been there from the beginning. She speaks very little English. Never speaks English at our coffees. But she understands enough, so that if I get lazy and just can't summon the words en espanol, I can lapse into English without too much guilt. Joana is from Mallorca. She is freckled and fun, extremely passionate about politics and always vocal about what she believes in. An excellent cook - amazing, fantastic cook that makes everything look as good as it tastes. And she's just fun to be around. A bit emotional (she's Spanish - so it comes with the territory), she's spent most of the time I've known her battling one stress induced issue after another, but I think she's better now. We've seen her improve. We've laughed and cried. She's ready to be "home" though she's going to Madrid. There is sunshine there.

We drank coffee - at least Pepe and I. Joana always takes just a little warm milk, like today, or herbal tea. And ate tomate - pureed tomato with a bit of garlic on bread with olive oil and salt. And talked about the moves - and the transportation strike that has all four ladies worried that their household items might not get to Spain - at least not in a reasonable time frame. In Spain right now they are throwing eggplant and zucchini in the streets and dumping out large barrels of milk. And it saddens my friends here... there are poor people in Spain who could use that food that is wasted thrown, broken, and trampled on the street. Do we have problems like this in the US, I'm asked. No, yes, but no... not like this. It would not be permitted to happen like this - not to this extreme. But, as I've learned from coffees before... something happens in Spain and "no pasa nada." Nothing happens. The government is impotent.

We met at Maria's house today - one of the original. I remember the first day she and Joana came to my house. I was so nervous then not knowing them at all... fussing about the table, trying to make everything right. After a few weeks, they relaxed enough to get up and microwave the milk. Spanish only take warm milk in their coffee. And then I learned to do that first to have it ready for them.

I think that of this handful of ladies, Maria and I are the closest. She speaks the best English allowing me to communicate my feelings more. We shared similar frustrations with the German schools trying to make the best decisions for our children. We share similar ideas about politics and what's right. We can just relax and be. She seems serious, but has a fun sporty side to her. Willing to try most anything - even cheddar cheese with an apple slice which is quite odd to them. She always smiles - always. She's leaving a year early because her youngest has had such a difficult time here in German school. We're spoiled with the American school here. The other nationalities don't have the same benefits. Now, she's treading water... ready to go. Work to do at her house - a new house they built just months before moving here. She's ready to relax and be home. And I'll visit... I need to visit. She is one of those people that I must stay in touch with.

2.
Just three blocks away from Maria's house is Lorella's house - an Italian friend. And it is humorously obvious that it is the house of an Italian when you drive up to it - especially today in the pouring rain with the dark grey skies and the street lined with similar orange brick houses and you see this Italian villa - this bright burgundy red stucco house just sitting there among the brick like they'd helicoptered it direct from Verona.

She goes to Kenya to have beautiful leather, beaded, and woven treasures made. Today was her open house, so I went to look at handbags and shoes, fabrics and jewelry. All bright and beaded and beautiful. I went to look mostly and to sneak in a short visit before I picked up Elise. Lori and I have been more acquaintances than friends up to this point, mostly because of time or lack of, but I think after today that will change. As friends leave new ones step in not to replace, but to fill the void. She and I had a marvellous time talking together today - about language and living in Germany, children, traveling in Italy, food... she approved of my methods of making tiramisu. "You learned the right way," she says. And then she told me her "secret" to make it that much better. At 1220, when I had only 10 minutes to drive from Geilenkirchen to the base to pick up Elise, she poured me a coffee. "Oh, I'm sorry... I really need to go and get Elise." "You have time. It's just a coffee." And she shot hers as if it were tequila on a hot night. And I sipped quickly, then shot out the door. Later I returned to pick up a couple things from her shoe collection... we chatted some more and then she asked me to take her 11-year old son, whom I'd never met, to his school (which is very near to my house). And, wow. I'd never met a more polite, confident boy in all my life. And he speaks English, German, Italian (and I think Spanish too) all fluently. Amazing.

Ok... so the photos:

1. The conscripts. Germany has them. They're young and they march a lot. I don't see them daily, but every month or two I'll see them marching, walking, or running down a street somewhere in the area. Sometimes they are in a long sprawled out line, so you'll only see a couple at a time. Sometimes they are in an organized clump like this. This is normal. Though at first it's strange to see German boys in uniform carrying (what I'm sure are un-munitioned) weapons and a guy in a sling, it becomes kind of almost normal. Still turns my head though, so today I took a few photos. This is just one clump of them and probably only a quarter of the total today walking right in front of my house.
2. And, though the German flag is not flown much here, it is flown A LOT now during soccer season. Everyone is talking about futbol no matter who they are. (Except the Americans, of course, and the Canadians who get more excited about hockey until they lose to the US like they did last month.) The Spanish - even the ladies - go to games, watch the games, and fly their flag. All over the area are Portuguese, Italian, Spanish, and German flags adorning windows and cars. It's fun to see people get excited. And when a game ends, we know it by the line of cars honking as they speed down the B56. (All the women are particularly impressed with the Portuguese team this year. Apparently they have a couple, ahem, decent looking players. :) A video of them is going around - though I haven't seen it yet - may be I'll google it now?)

Just because this could be fun... I read this recently on a random blog and it's kind of a fun little exercise and could be a fun way to find some interesting books.



Meme 123
Directions:

1) Pick up the nearest book.
2) Open it to page 123.
3) Find the fifth sentence.
4) Post the next three sentences.
5) Pass the meme on to five more people, and acknowledge the person who tagged you.

God has blessed me with an incredible family both immediate and extended that I am both proud of and proud to be a part of and a circle of beautiful women all over the world that I can call my friends.

But today I had to say an extremely sad "see you later" to one of the greats -- I think it's the saddest good-bye I've ever had to say to a friend.

It's silly... but I kind of think friends are like shoes. You know, we have different kinds of friends to fill those different needs in our life, so just as shoes come in different colors and styles, we have funny friends and coffee friends, friends we can cry with and friends that we shop with, friends we can be fancy with at the theater and friends we sweat with at the beach. Some of our friends might fill several niches just like my black slides can go with jeans or skirts... but it's rare when there is someone who can do it all. I thought I'd come close...

And then I came here and I met this crazy lady that, at first impression (for who knows what reason) seemed Canadian. And she taught me to laugh, but allowed me to cry and listened when things didn't make sense. She gave me to gift of reading and filled a prized corner of my bookshelves with amazing literary nuggets of wisdom and faith while inscribing them with her own. We shopped for antique oddities and Italian treasures. We traveled, shared a room with an amazing view, ate food so good we giggled, drank the best coffee and watched fancy old women who were simply fabulous. We shared moments. I could be honest to a fault. Catty and rude, silly and frivolous, or completely overly serious. And it was ok. She went with every mood, every occasion and we had fun. She's wise, but doesn't make me feel like a kid. And she always knows what I need to hear - not what I always want to hear. She has faith in me and won't let me be less than what I should. The cornerstone of the great triumvirate. My right hand and my left brain. That was Holly. That is Holly. And yes, I know it's not good-bye and I know I live in this amazing age of internet and cheap phone calls. But she is that magical pair of shoes that goes with everything. And now, what will I wear?

Living this life where I move every couple years, I know good-bye. Good-bye stops in frequently here, creating distance between family and friends, testing the bonds, making us cling to the memories we cherish as if they'd sprout legs and run. Good-bye sneaks up quickly with that sideways glance that is sometimes mocking, sometimes sinister, but always hard to read. I don't like him. I don't like "see you later" either. The computer is ok, but you can't hug it.

And if I'd had the slightest inkling of who this was when I met her by the rasta cows on Schliefweg that day, I would've knocked her over with a big hug right then and there.

Today I attended two events at the girls' school. First, was the young authors tea, an opportunity for the students, (Arianna in this case) to show off their work to their parents. Parents and students congregated in the library where the kids, armed with large overstuffed portfolios, read to the waiting adults. I was absolutely impressed with the imagination, creativity, and skill in which Arianna wrote and illustrated. She's amazing. As soon as that was finished, the kids rushed to the MPR and changed. Then we saw the 1st grade classes put on a vocabulary parade in which each student, dressed like their vocab word of choice, marched across the state and gave us the definition. Arianna chose habitat. She wore my old green girl scout uniform, a green vine, a green hat, and flowers, then had a monkey hanging from her arm and a frog on her hand. Some kids got elaborate... we saw a cage full of hearts, an aquarium, a rubics cube, a globe, and a boy wrapped in a narrow tube of poster board made into a map with cars glued onto it - so tightly that he has to walk with very short steps, penguin-like, across the stage.

Run here. Run there. Fahren. Immer fahren. (driving. always driving) Tinny laughed the day she told me that I drove too much and I replied with "Ich bin taxi." Laugh, but it has its truth.

Today wasn't so much taxi fahren, but a list of things to do and places to go and only so many hours.

This morning was up, breakfast, feed kids, shower, bath Elise, wrap present, make grocery list...

Drive to Valkenburg and pray that I didn't run out of gas since I was too low and didn't have time to drive out of my way to a gas stations that would accept my ration coupons... attend birthday party for a friend of Elise' from her International school at the Valkenier which turned out to be a rather amazingly fun amusement park exactly perfect for her age group and just a smidgen over.

Yeah. It rained. And yeah. We got our pants wet trying to ride wet rides. Next time I'll bring a towel - just in case. But, Elise had fun! And I have to admit it. I had fun too. She could do all the rides even if she wasn't tall enough, if she rode with me. We didn't have a lot of time, but she really liked it there, so we'll go back. The fish are there too... in the small lake. You can buy food and feed them and they go crazy writhing around trying to get to the edge and eat. "Cooper" - at least that's what they are in Dutch.

From there sweating it to Schinnen where I could get a little gas... not a full tank because although it's our support base, it's in the Netherlands and gas is more expensive on that side of the border... so just a bit. Then groceries for the Greek dinner I was going to cook the next night for friends.

Back home, unloading groceries and getting ready...

drum roll, please.

Spa and Food. Hmmmmm.

Tonight I was completely honored to be included in a going-away night for some of my Spanish friends. There were 6 of us - 5 Spanish and 1 me. We went to the Carolus Thermae in Aachen - a large spa there and I was nervous, really nervous. After all, this is Europe. Modesty is different - sometimes non-existent. And a German spa is nothing like the hair, nails, massage, pampering place that I've seen in the US. They do have massage and beauty options, but they also have restaurants and bars, a huge sauna area, and the focal point: the pools. And not for swimming. It was beautifully done though. We got a chip that fit into the key in the small valuables locker. There were small rooms for changing privately, then a locker room on the other side with large lockers corresponding in number to our small lockers. So we wore our key bracelet and had plenty of space for our things. Then there are the pools... a large pool with contoured beds built into the sides so you can lay in the water and allow the jets to massage you, seats with those same relaxing jets, and lots of space to move around in the highly mineralled water. There were 3 hot tubs of different temperatures there that I saw (but may be more) and a cold tub, a relaxing room with music, and a sauna, then two outdoor pools, one with similar beds and a large waterfall, and the other with a whirlpool that swept us along so quickly we had to "go fishing for Spanish" and grab our friends as they circled to help them out when it was time to go. I felt like we were on a tour sampling each pool for a just little bit before the group moved off to another area, but it was nice, really nice. And when it was time to go, we took our time getting dressed up, then going out to the long counter area with mirrors and outlets where we could make ourselves up pretty before we went out. I pulled out my curling iron and Carmen asked me to show her how to use it. She'd never seen one before.

Then comes the food. We drove to a little corner of the city just a block from one of the old city gates and next to a park where we had reservations at a small, but immensely popular Vietnamese Restaurant that served absolutely delicious and exquisitely presented food - the perfect compromise between the sometimes too heavy flavor of Chinese and the often too spicy Thai. This was one to come back to... I'm already planning the day! We had egg rolls, a platter with 4 different meat dishes (chicken, pork, duck, and beef) with perfectly cooked vegetables, and a light ice cream for dessert. Each plate had a pink orchid on it. Noemi and I each ate one just to try it and it was good... crunchy almost with that light wateriness of the water chestnut.

Home by 11:30. Such a great night!

If you are four and have listened to the stories of E.B. White, then all spiders are named Charlotte. This is just how it is. Elise illustrated this fact once again (as all of my girls have talked sweetly to spiders) today while sitting on the toilet. There, she noticed the tiniest of baby spiders dropping down onto the toilet paper roll. And, instead of reacting with disgust or fear, she said, in her softest sweetest voice, "hello, Charlotte." And then a whole conversation started with Elise talking most sincerely to this spider as if she expected an answer, and then quite disappointed when, without even a good-day, the spider disappeared. And I'm hearing all this from the kitchen while she sat on the toilet. "Charlotte, Charlotte, where are you? Where did you go, Charlotte?"

Later in the evening...

Elise is telling me about her German school yesterday and how a spider crawled up the arm of her jacket and I ask her if that spider was Charlotte too.

"No, that Spider's Angry. She's the mommy spider and she's angry that her baby didn't come home for dinner."

Gas seems to be a topic of discussion everywhere. You all complain in the states and we all complain here. After all, our gas rations are supposed to be a bit lower than the US national average and it tends to be on the higher side making us wonder where that excess goes. Still, by doing the math and seeing what locals here pay, I am grateful for our coupon books and understand better why bicycles are so popular here. If I had to pay $9/gallon, I'd be riding my bike too.

We purchased 100 liters today for $109.53. In Germany, the price for 100 liters of gas is 149.90Euros. It's even more expensive in the Netherlands. While we are driving around Germany, it's not so bad. We can buy gas at Esso stations which can mean driving out of the way sometimes, but at least we get gas at our price and not theirs. The problem is longer road trips. Driving outside of Germany is expensive if you have to fill up with gas there. We've paid over $150 just to fill one tank of gas in France... and that was when the dollar/Euro conversion rate was a little kinder.

The math...

I pay $1.095/liter or $4.145/gallon
They pay $2.374/liter or $8.986/gallon

Since I'm ALWAYS the one holding the camera providing me with TONS of beautiful photos of Kirk with our girls and almost NONE of me, I finally made an appointment with a photographer who just moved into town. She's absolutely wonderful and we had a good time. Here are the photos!

http://picasaweb.google.com/CatherineSparks/StalhaumFamilyPortraits


And, since she is trying to set up a legitimate photography business here in Germany, she isn't accepting payment yet (wants to make sure that there are no glitches in the legit business - it's difficult here), so we'll just make a donation. This is the charity that she supports... a beautiful thing. https://www.nowilaymedowntosleep.org

On our way to the Keukenhof last month, Elise had to go to the bathroom. Knowing that the autobahn was a long stretch with no facilities, I convinced Kirk to pull over by some trees on a narrow dirt road. Elise was uneasy at first, but finished triumphant and giggling in that "I just did something not entirely acceptable" kind of way... she was thrilled. She said it was fun to potty in the grass.

Today I was walking outside to talk to Kirk while he grilled our dinner when Luci passed by me informing me that she was getting tissue for Elise who needed to go potty. So, I walked by Kirk and went into the garden to find her. No where in sight. "Elise?" The leaves of the hedge rustled and there peaked out my youngest, bare bottomed with her underwear and skirt in her hand. "I had to go potty," she said. "Have you gone yet?" "No." "Well, then get in the house and go!!!"

Silly girl. You'd think I had boys. Guess she's ready for a camping trip.

I've had a difficult time focusing on this blog lately. Not because there isn't anything going on. The kids continue to grow and do amazing things that make me burst with both laughter and pride. My life continues to bless me with opportunities and people, events, and bits of culture. And, of course, I still have some absolutely amazing trips to properly post before I start off on any new ones.

Really, truly, it will come. I need to do it for myself and my children as much as anyone else. But this is a season of mixed emotion.

Many of the current happenings here are tainted with good-byes. I don't like good-byes in any form unless, of course, it's a swarm of ants or something. Unfortunately, these aren't ants I'm saying good-bye to. These are my best friends. People who have given me the invaluable gifts of friendship, memories, and laughter. So in every party and celebration that we attend now, there's a precious friend who's leaving, one who will say good-bye with the hope and intention of staying in touch, visiting again, and continuing the growth of a friendship. I do hope that I am diligent enough to keep those friendship alive.

And then there's grandpa. When I was a little girl I wanted to learn to speak Hungarian so that I could talk to Omi, my great-grandmother, but she passed away before I learned even a word. This last year I kept getting busy or for some reason, put off writing about the many trips we took. When I did write about one, I would get a nice note with a poem and some family photos from my grandfather who would thank me for the "email" and praise my writing ability. Grandpa wrote and painted. His praise holds immense value to me and now it's gone except for the pile of precious hand-written notes I've saved

Last time I saw grandpa he asked when I would send another "email." Soon, grandpa, soon. And now it just doesn't matter - as much. I never blogged my trip to Austria - grandpa's birthplace - or Spain, a place he'd been. Or Brugge...

I will continue. There is importance still and I do want to get my memories down before they fade, but when it slows, and when I take these pauses... it's sometimes just too hard. I can't write about any of those trips from last year without that tinge of regret that my grandfather will not be able to read them. And I see so much of him here in this continent where he was born... memory is bittersweet.