Life: Idiotropic

a smile from my girl!

I had some yearbook business to attend to today at the elementary school, and I just happened to be there close to lunch time, so I was able to surprise both Luci and Arianna which is always fun. Usually their friends see me first and then my girls look, see me, then come running. I'd been taking yearbook photos anyway, so I was ready to capture Arianna in full run. This is the best. LOVE it. What made it even better was bedtime when both of my girls said that my lunch time visit was the best part of their day!

Sunday the snow covered everything. By Monday morning there was little proof we'd ever had any fluffy white stuff. It was almost completely melted. By Monday afternoon; however, the flurries had started again, parents were picking their kids up from school early, everything around the base and south was turning white and the snow showed no signs of stopping. Excited, I picked up Elise and spend the next hour driving around trying to get some photos of my favorite winter treat. But by the time I got to my village, the snow had stopped and the accumulation was not as impressive. I should have gone south. That's where the action was. Still, I saw pheasant - a bird that is extremely frequent here in ones, twos, and large groups, sitting in the farm fields. I've even seen baby pheasants here, but until this day, I'd never caught one on film. They're extremely skittish birds. The picture isn't great, but I'm happy to have at least some memory of this critter I see so much here.

More photos: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=74082&l=1f054&id=674507268

Two really smart moms got together and threw a combined birthday party for their daughters at Pee Wees, a large indoor play space. Elise was invited and Luci is friends with one of the girls too, so she came too. The kids played for 3 hours. The adults relaxed for 3 hours. And when we left, almost 3 hours of snow was on the ground and covering my car. It was beautiful!!! LOVE the snow.

Both girls like the bumper cars. Elise preferred at first to be the passenger and let the boys drive her around. When Brian left, she cried and cried, scared to drive by herself... until Brian's dad climbed into the passenger seat and showed her how to drive. Then she was a crazy girl behind the wheel. Here she is with Zoe, one of the birthday girls!

Today while Luci and Elise were playing at a birthday part in a huge indoor play center, it began to snow. And it snowed and snowed and snowed and didn't stop until about 11pm this evening, so although, sadly, it will probably be nothing more than a cold stream of water running through the gutters by morning, it definitely worked it's magic on us all today. Tiara and Arianna got to play in it since they were home earlier. The littles and I got home after dark, so they played a little while Kirk finished up shoveling the walk and the doorways in front of Finny's, Tinny's, and our house. Everything is white. Even in the dark driving home at 6, I saw kids having snowball fights in the fields, others pulling sleds down the street, and groups of people walking in it. My Norwegian friend even posted pictures of her and her kids outside in the snow with their skis. Snow is magic. Everyone is happy!

Thanksgiving, like all holidays, is one of those days when we like to gather with family and friends. Living in Germany doesn't afford us the opportunity to celebrate with our "real" family back "home," so we just adopt. Enough holidays together and our friends evolve into family. This was our 4th Thanksgiving here, but our third in our house and our third here with the Shanks who have now reached "family" status. Alice makes the best salads and Greg makes delicious cranberry sauce. Plus, our kids get along.

Obviously, Thanksgiving isn't exactly a German holiday and we're not exactly at an American base, so the guys don't get the day off and the kids are in school. And there is no way that I am going to "slave" in a kitchen all day just to plunk it all on the table after a long tiring day and go to sleep. It's supposed to be a day long family ordeal complete with naps and picking at the leftovers. In the past, we've celebrated on the Saturday after Thanksgiving, but this year we did it early and had our feast on the Saturday before. We had all the fixin's - 2 turkeys, mashed and sweet potatoes, gravy, green beans, stuffing, cranberry sauce, rolls, apple and pumpkin and pecan pies... enough to stuff. And all delicious. And unlike most Thanksgivings here, we were mellow and relaxed with just a few close friends over and no big crowds. I like the big crowds, but it was nice to relax and just enjoy the day. The kids all ran around and got along though they wouldn't pose for a photo. Too bad. They're all cuties!

Back row: Elise, Thomas, Luci
On couch: Marlene, Arianna, Julian, Janie, and Alice's arm.
My oldest was MIA - upstairs on the computer chatting with friends.

I just have to say that though autumn is just beginning to give way to the frosty cold of winter, it is still absolutely beautiful here. The trees lining the streets still have enough leaves holding out on their branches to add vibrant color to the landscape. Each wind brings a flurry of confetti swirling down in those reds, oranges, and yellows of fall. Driving through them feels almost magical. And the piles of sugar beats lining the field's edges just keep getting longer each day. It's cold. Really cold, but we've gotten just enough sunny glimmers to balance the gray. It's just nice. Feels like the holidays already. Was in a village today and saw them getting their Christmas market set up. St. Nikolaus treats are already in the shop windows. It's just fun!

We've all seen days like this when the sun bursts from behind a cloud with a fan of variegated rays of sunlight. It's not so uncommon. But I don't notice it other places around here. For some reason, it happens a lot here - over this field between the base and Grotenrath. I've driven by here many times to see skies like this and prettier. Today I actually decided to stop knowing that my time here is limited and I don't want to miss any more photo opportunities. If I would have planned better, I probably could have gotten at least 2 more church silhouettes in the background, but there just isn't a good place to stop. Time is going too quickly here. I'm already sad to go.

I live in an area where seasonally a ill-directed wind can deliver the fresh scent of cow right through your window into your home, there are more John Deers than computers, and the act of being stuck behind a slow moving sugar beat truck ranks as the #1 reason for being late. It's also where a horse drawn carriage is a perfectly acceptable mode of transport. Need a bag of broetchen? Grab the carriage and go. I've seen them parked outside bakeries. And they frequently clip clop down the busy B56 right past our house. Today, I was stuck behind one with no way to pass. A good excuse for being late, I think.

This was our last St. Martin's Day in Germany. It feels strange to think that. But, with that in mind, we went out last night into the cold to walk around our village with the children's lanterns shining bright.

Of course, I got the time wrong, so though I planned to miss the lengthy German mass at the church, we also missed the very beginning of the parade and the bonfire behind the fire station where St. Martin rides his horse around the fire and gives his cloak to the poor man. Still, the kids all had the lanterns that they'd made in school and we caught up in enough time to do most of the parade walking together with over 400 children and their families.

Our parade has gotten popular. The firemen here are in charge of it each year. They go door to door collecting donation and giving tickets to the children for a donation. They'd come by over a month ago to give out tickets. Then all the money collected is used to buy treats for the bags. For each ticket handed out, a bag of treats is put together. The ladies in the village over 80 years old get together and put them all together - large sacks full. This year they made over 450 sacks for the children. Each had a large Weckmannbrot, 2 clementines, 1 apple, 1 large package of Speculatus cookies, 1 large package of honey dominos (delicious!), a small bag of chips, a full sized snickers bar, a full sized Alpina chocolate bar, and seven other smaller candy treats - lollipops, cookies, and gummis.

The band led the parade with St. Martin on his horse. The firetruck ended the parade as the caboose keeping traffic at bay. And the firemen walked with us all along the parade route carrying long fire sticks and stomping out the bits of burning cinders that would fall from them every few minutes. We finished the parade wrapping around the church and heading to the new firehouse. All along the parade route people in the village stood outside their doors to wave or peeked from their curtains to watch the children walk by. Even at Il Genio's, our local pizza place, folks stood outside on the steps waving to the children and shouting hellos to people they knew.

At the firehouse the band played the traditional St. Martin's Day songs, the children lined up to greet St. Martin with his brass hat and Santa-like beard, and the parents gathered by the tent to the left where they sold hot chocolate, gluwein (hot, spiced red wine), and shots of amaretto to go in either. And oh, the gluwein was just that much better with a bit of amaretto in it! Delicious. And it certainly warms you up on a cold night. So we all stood together after we saw St. Martin, drinking our warm drinks and talking with our friends and neighbors before heading home. I was also able to meet the man in charge of the Carnival parade this year, so we may just have a float in our village parade!

Before we were home, all three little girls had already gotten into their bags and eaten the heads of their Weckmannbrots. So, the bread above with Arianna is actually Tiara's .... the only one that survived long enough for a photo op.

Kirk got, well, uh... older today, so we celebrated in the evening with one of his favorite meals - a orange herb crusted pork tenderloin with all the extras - and then I surprised him with coconut cream stuffed pies for dessert. Wow. That home made pudding was amazing!

Tiara was determined to fit 37 candles into something - and of course, the pies weren't going to hold them without completely destroying the crust, so she found a banana and over about 10 minutes, got all 37 candles in. Odd though it is, this isn't new. Kirk had his birthday candles in a potato a few years ago.

Tiara's birthday card to her dad had this on the cover: "37 So many candles yet so little banana."

Playing catch up... again...

Halloween isn't a one night affair here and it's actually a lot more fun here than in the states for us, probably because there's such an effort by the American community to make it feel "normal," it ends up being really great.

For example... most schools may have Halloween parties, but ours has a parade - not just around the school, but all over the base. Kindergarten through sixth grade with their parents, teachers, and siblings dress up, leave the school grounds, and march in the Storybook Parade all over the base trick or treating in the buildings that many of their parents work at. Some of the groups even decorate the hallways that the children walk through. This year there were two haunted hallways and the dental clinic staff all dressed up as characters from Alice in Wonderland. It's fun. It's safe. And it's a community effort that really makes it special. This year Arianna was a butterfly, Luci was an angel, and Elise was just a little girl who didn't feel like dressing up. But, costume or not, they all three ended up with a nice bag of candy - most of which they haven't eaten yet and it's nearly Thanksgiving. Out of sight, out of mind is a good thing. :)













On Halloween Elise' school had their "Trunk or treat" activity. A bunch of us moms decorated our trunks and handed out candy. I had my ipod speakers with me, so the Monster Mash and X-files theme played while Arianna, my lion mummy, handed out candy. Luci was home sick, so she missed out on the Halloween activities - at least she was able to do the parade the day before. It was small, but fun. Elise was a reindeer and was pretty oblivious to most of it, but enjoyed sitting on the curb afterwards comparing candy with her friends.

There a HUGE Trunk or Treat event each year at Schinnen, our support base across the border, but we've never gone. It's too big, too crowded, and really, the kids don't need the candy at all - they just need the fun. Luckily, our little village is so full of spirit for all holidays, so we went trick or treating there just like we would back "home." Each year the number of German kids coming to our door gets bigger. Before we even headed out, a large group of German kids rung our doorbell. They were all dressed up and instead of saying "Sueses oder saures" like they sometimes do, they actually said, "trick or treat" in English. I handed out candy to each of them and then one girl about 10 years old, told me slowly in her strong accent, "We are in the Halloween Club." It was cute.

I took Arianna and Elise out with a couple friends of mine and we did the few streets behind our house. This time Arianna was Cinderella (with big black boots) and Elise was Tinkerbell (though you couldn't tell behind her jacket). Elise quickly got the hang of it. She saw a few of her friends from the German school too and enjoyed that. A lot more houses participated this year - even a few older German ladies handed out candy to the kids. And one of our Polish friends gave my friends each a shot of some berry liqueur his friend had made. We ended the evening at the Nelson's annual Halloween bash before heading home.

The day after Halloween was our turn... Kirk and I dressed up for a party at the Gartman's. Too funny. So many great costumes. After a busy week, I just didn't have time to get fancy, so we wore our carnival costumes...the monk for K and the pink wig outfit for me. I'll come up with something new for Carnival.

MORE PHOTOS:

25 September 2008

If they could do nothing else, the Austrians will score big points in my book for doing a wonderful breakfast. Yes, of course, Austria is known for other things... the skiing, the hospitality, the coffee, the Schnapps... the list goes on. But like the Germans, the breakfast is just wonderful. Delicious breads, sliced meats and cheeses... brie - I'm happy with any breakfast that serves brie - and a beautiful assortment of cereals and fruits. And when I'm traveling, I value a good breakfast - especially one that comes "free" with the room. It means I can absolutely stuff myself in the morning and then go a bit longer before eating a potentially overpriced average meal somewhere else.

So this particular morning, like yesterdays Austrian morning, I had a spectacular breakfast at our gasthaus: Hotel Waldfriede in Bad Tatzmannsdorf, AU.

From there we loaded up our bags and did a slow drive up and around the hill behind the guest house that wound back into the main street of the village below. We saw sheep, emus, strange lanky ducks, apple trees heavily loaded with bright red apples, and fields of dead sunflowers. Roadside monuments of various sorts added to the view every once in a while and as frequently we'd stop, get out, and snap a few photos of what ever caught our fancy.

I was a little nervous about crossing the border, so as much as I wanted to get going, a tourist route wasn't going to bother me. I got one photo of the WW1 memorial in Bad Tatzmannsdorf - I'd seen them in every village, so I decided I needed to get a photo of at least one. They were all fairly similar... a stone soldier standing downcast with his gun in his hand. Most had moss growing on one side. Just a few feet from this one, I found a beautiful bird nest on the ground and grabbed it to take home. I still have it - one of my favorite souvenirs from Austria.

About 30 minutes later we were crossing the border. We slowed, cranked our necks around to look for someone or something to let us know what to do, then kept driving. Just like a lot of border crossings, the buildings and signs were there. Booths and all. But it looked completely abandoned. No one to check out passports or sell us a highway sticker. That sticker that I knew I was supposed to have but didn't know how to get ended up haunting us the entire trip. We knew we'd get pulled over without one and fined. But we'd looked and couldn't figure out where to buy one. Signs along the highways demonstrated that the little stickers were required and we even saw a police van on the side of the road that looked like they may have been checking for them. Still, we got lucky, and never had a problem. I won't take my changes next time.

It took a while for me to feel completely comfortable there. At first, every thing felt really foreign. At least in Austria, I can read most of the signs and can communicate. It's somewhat familiar. Hungarian is NOTHING like the languages I know, so all of the sudden signs were completely unpronounceable let alone understandable. The scenery didn't change too much. It became a bit flatter, I guess. But the signs unknowns threw me a little. My GPS didn't work. I'd known it wouldn't, so I printed off a lot of maps and had a good plan. We headed straight into Szombathely, a town where my great-great aunt Hermine lived with her husband and two boys.

The town was a bit worn... buildings that were architecturally stunning, but had a good layer of black filth over most of them, a broken window, facade layers flaking off, statues missing or cracked, streets that were utilitarian, but not showy - not for tourists. Still, even on the outskirts of the city center, there were obvious signs of better times in the past - large ornate structures, huge brick military compounds, statues, tile... details that belie a more affluent past.

With no address to look up - no information other than it had once been Hermine's home, we just drove around until we could find a place near the centrum to park. Large "I" signs for the information booth taunted us along the way until it was time to turn - Information in 500 meters. Nope. There was nothing there. So we just winged it. Found a place to park, but we didn't have any Hungarian Forints, so we couldn't pay for parking, so we went to the bank to get money, but the machine for change was broken, so we couldn't get change there. So we went to another bank for small change, then took a walk. It was fun to window shop and try the math in my head. $1 = 162 HuF.

We walked up the road into the main pedestrian square, down to a smaller square with a large church, took pictures, looked around, then turned around and came back. Almost all the windows that we passed had double curtains in them - both white lace. One in front, a half curtain only covering the bottom half of the window, and the other in back a full sized curtain pull taut the entire window's length. The two curtains were always in different lace patterns, but looked beautiful together anyway. In the large square we could have been anywhere. Beautiful architecture, shops and restaurants, people milling about, children with their mommies. It would have been fun to look around more and shop a bit, but we had other places to go.

Getting out of there towards Zalalövö was easier than we thought. Somehow we made it using my tiny yahoo maps and reading strange Hungarian street signs. It was interesting to watch the countryside as we drove south on hwy 86. We'd go through a small village, then out. Lots of dead corn that puzzled us a bit. Just outside of Szombathely, I saw a tiny old lady - looked like she was in her 90's at least - pushing her bicycle down the hill, the handlebars of her bicycle loaded up with filled bags. She had on a long skirt and layers of tops and a colorful scarf around her head looking like something out of a story rather than real. It was one of those impossible photo moments - the perfect photograph, but impossible to capture.

Zalalövö is a tiny little town at the crossroads of two small highways in the Zala region of Hungary near a large national forest. We drove in and then out again quite on accident just because it was so tiny. At the crossroads lies a large yellow onion domed church and a series of uninteresting square buildings spread out to the left and opposite it. We parked the car and walked. By then we both needed a bathroom more than anything, but this wasn't a town with tourists let alone public toilets, so we went into a little diner. Other than the language and the huge ceramic stove in the corner, it could have been sitting in a small rural US town. We each ordered a scoop of ice cream - just so we could sit a moment and justifiably use the WC. There was not one word of English spoken there and all eyes were on us. I felt very conspicuous. I'm still not sure what flavour I ordered... nothing was recognizable to me. But it was ok tasting.

We began to turn to the left upon leaving the cafe, but I'd thought I'd seen something just a block down, so we turned back to the right and walked another block to the edge of town. There was a WW2 memorial wall standing there at the back of a grassy area. On half were Hungarian names. On the other half I saw a separate list of names under Hebrew letters.

Zalalövö wasn't a random stop for us. My great-great grandparents had lived there in a large home that impressed my grandfather as a child when he visited. They had 3 guest rooms, a restaurant, and two butcher shops - one kosher. I only knew that their last names were Maschanzker. Now I know their first names as well. Just like my grandfather's name on the exhibit in Oberwart... these names too are bittersweet. Sadness for the loss, but comfort to see that they are not forgotten in their home.

I think that Aunt Gizi got married in Öriszentpéter. Grandpa mentioned a car ride there in his memoirs. So, we saw the sign and took another detour. The drive wasn't long and it was worth it - absolutely beautiful countryside. The people in this area love terra cotta pots and geraniums. I literally saw porches with at least 30 potted geraneums sitting on stairs, decks, balconies, railings, and hanging anywhere they could put them. Even the cement telephone poles had a pot attached to either side with flowers spilling out of them. Windows were filled with bright red blooms and in contrast, strings of dried yellow corn hung on houses, fences and clotheslines.

In town we parked by an old church with a hand punched metal clock. It was working, so I took pictures of it, so I would remember the time I walked by. Grapes were everywhere in people's yards hanging ripe and full ready to be picked. Most of the little yards had nice gardens and almost all had old wells with wooden slats around them to keep anything from falling in. This is where we saw the first of many stork nests in this area. We didn't see any once we got to the lake, but here, in the Zala area, we saw enormous stork nests sitting atop of chimneys and telephone poles. I'd only heard of them before. It was unbelievable to see them in person - so huge. And storks really aren't that big.

When I planned this trip, I really didn't know much about this area. All I knew were the small list of towns that Grandpa had mentioned. Now I wish I would have had a little more time. If nothing else, the area was gorgeous, but after finding the memorial in Zalalövö, I think I could find more with more time and more information... more digging.

Still, this was the day we were supposed to arrive in Budapest. And while only a 2 hour drive direct from Vienna, we were not exactly taking the quick route and the heavy rains from Vienna had followed us even today. The narrow road towards Bagod and Zalaegerszeg wound around through hilly country in and out of tiny towns. Every few kilometers we'd see an enormous white cross standing on the side of the road. And, as often, the sky would be black with rain or we'd be blinded by the bright light shining through a gap in the clouds.

The villages were quaint. We saw more stork nests and an occasional shabby wooden stand on the side of the road selling produce and strings of bright red paprika peppers. We kept driving steadily to the far north western corner of Lake Balaton then followed the road through little resort villages all the way to the town of Tihany. Tiny vineyards lined the way all along the lake.

Tihany is this amazing little town sitting high on a hill in an inlet on Lake Balaton that seems to almost touch the other side of the lake. Three sides are surrounded by water and the inlet itself has a tiny lake in the middle. Up on top is the church with a view of Lake Balaton and the smaller lake below. Picture perfect. We drove out of the town to the ferry, then turned around and drove back up the hill parking in a tiny lot just below the church. We didn't see any signs about parking, but a young guy in the parking lot was collecting money per hour. I tried to pay for 2 hours, but he would only take money for one and then recommended a good restaurant, Gulyásudvar. Dad had stuffed cabbage which was nothing like any stuffed cabbage I'd ever seen. It wasn't stuffed. The bowl full of cabbage was topped with thick slabs of fatty meat. I had a tough leg of lamb with onions and potatoes and probably one of the best glasses of wine I'd had in a long time. Here's how strange the Hungarian languages looks... or at least how strange it looked to me at first:


After dinner we did a quick walk around the village, stopped in the paprika shop where the entire facade was covered in paprika, then walked up the steps to the church to get photos and see the view. The sun was going down and we were losing the light, so it was time to go, but we were glad to have stopped.

And now our drive got interesting. And not in the fun way. At this point my GPS finally thought it knew where we were, but not entirely. It would seem lucid and then lose the signal. Half the roads were new and not on the maps. All the signs were, of course, fairly unreadable for us and I couldn't see directionals on them to know which of 5-6 exits to take on major roundabouts. Highways that seemed like "major roads" had these signs on them showing that bicycles, horsedrawn carriages, and tractors also used those roads. And though we were on a stretch of road that led to Budapest, no signs actually said Budapest for quite a while, so we'd come to a roundabout in the dark, the GPS wouldn't know where we were, I didn't see any recognizable city name on the signs, so I was looking frantically on the little map printouts for the name of a town in the right directions to tell dad which turn to take. It was nuts. At one point I think we ended up going in the complete opposite direction. A stop for gas (which was another stresser at that point... not knowing how frequently or it we'd find a gas station) fortunately finally got us going in the right direction.

I'd planned on arriving in Budapest around 6 at the latest. We didn't leave Tihany until 6. Thought we'd be in Budapest no later than 8. We arrived after 10. Budapest itself was another crazy driving adventure. It was dark, but there was a lot of traffic, one way streets, bridges and lanes that force you across the river and back. Crazy turns. And FAST traffic. People drive insanely in Budapest. They make Parisians look quite docile. (Trust me, that's quite crazy.)

It took us a few crazy U-turns to get to the apartment. Then we started to look for parking. The landlord told us that there should be plenty of parking on the street. Tired and worn out from the day, we thought we'd find it, but turned onto our street to find cars parked bumper to bumper on the sidewalks on both sides. No place to park anyway. We drove all over the place around in circles. Looked for garages.

My dad seemed pretty calm or at least I remember him calm while I was getting a bit panicked. Tired, long day, traffic, speed, no parking... it just got later and later. Didn't speak the language, didn't know our way around... too much construction and detours. We finally pulled over by a gas station/parking garage structure - the first one we'd seen. I asked the attendant in my slowest simplest English about parking... is there a garage near our apartment address, is this one available for parking... he told me to go talk into the speaker by the locked glass door. So I stood walked over, pushed the button, and spoke very slowly in a mix of English and German (when one didn't work, I'd switch and just kinda went back and forth) to the voice on the other end. He said it was a private parking garage, but he must have hear the tired desperation in my voice because he finally offered for us to park on the top floor. 3 days would cost about $50. Not bad. And truly, at this point, we would've paid more.

But I didn't understand how to get in. It was confusing. He wanted me to go to another door to talk to the intercom there for him to open the gate, but I didn't get it, so I went back to the car frustrated. Dad walked over, looked around, and heard the guy talking, so I went back, talked to him again, finally figured it out, and then we started the drive up to the top floor - driving the smallest compact our rental car company had - small - yet still squeezing by the walls as we rounded each corner up another ramp. All the walls in those places had thick layers of paint streaks from other cars. It was very slow going.

We finally got to the top and a man there directed us to our spot. I think I started breathing again then. I'd been so nervous. He was friendly. Told us about a relative in Florida. Helped us with our luggage. So, after a few minutes to relax, breathe, and gather our things, we began our kilometer walk with our luggage through this unknown city, through unknown streets, at around 10:30pm. I had my GPS on with our apartment programmed in nestled into my purse with my purse just slightly open, so I could try to look down and see it. Still, I had to stop at brightly lit corners here and there and take it out and look again. Walking directions are different than driving ones. I felt scared and conspicuous. We walked briskly as if we knew where we were going having a sense at least which direction to go. I watched people as much as they probably noticed us. I did stop once as we got closer at a restaurant and asked the waiters outside for directions. They spoke English very well and were very helpful. That was reassuring. We had to get our keys first, so we went to Ferenciek tere 2. An old man stood at the door smoking and knew immediately who we were. After all, how many people would be walking around Budapest at night with large pieces of luggage. He opened the large iron gate to the building and we walked into the tall dark corridor. His small room with a narrow bed, desk, a tv, and a few odds and ends was on the right. He handed us the keys and directed us to the back of the building. It was an old building with a large closed courtyard inside. I'm pretty sure it was closed, but it was also garbage day the next morning, so there were stacks of garbage and huddles of garbage cans everywhere and the floor was wet and with puddles like they'd hosed it down. The back door went out to a narrow alley also crowded with parked cars and garbage cans - not at all consoling for a tourist at night, but we didn't stand there long and got to our apartment just a couple minutes later. We used one key to get into the door to the building. Walked straight to the end of the hallway, through a set of doors where there was a small open topped courtyard in front of us, then went to the right through another set of doors to the stairs which we used most of trip and the tiny, tiny lift that we used this evening. I'm still not sure how we actually fit inside with our luggage or how it lifted us. It was old, slow, creaky, and had the little swinging doors that you opened and shut yourself.

From there we found our apartment at the end of another dark hallway, got inside and found a moment to breath again. I think that's probably one of those points when dad and I just started laughing. It had been a great day, but the last few hours were a bit more harrowing than we'd expected. Our original plan included arriving early, having dinner somewhere, and walking around the town. Now it was later than late and the last thing either of us wanted to do was leave the comfort and security of our little apartment. That was it. We were in Budapest and the adventure would have to wait until morning.

24 September 2008
This part of the trip was probably the most anticipated, but also the shortest with the greatest amount of unknowns. I'd gone through Grandpa's book and taken notes on every Austrian and Hungarian town he'd mentioned, but I only had one address and the name of another street. I had nothing concrete, so though dad and I were really looking forward to this day, we had no idea what we'd find. I suppose I just wanted to see the town and with the address firmly in hand, I thought my GPS would take us to the old shop where Grandpa and Margie spent part of their childhood. Those were the expectations. Didn't exactly happen that way.

The drive from Vienna to Oberwart was uneventful with the exception of some on and off spitty rain that took turns with all too brief patches of sun through the beautiful green hills of Austria. It really was beautiful. Big green hills, story book homes with the big dark wood balconies, flowers bursting out of flower boxes, and tiny flocks of sheep.

Oberwart itself was bigger than I expected, but then, I'd heard grandpa's version of it from 60 years ago and even since he'd gone back, enough time had passed that more stores had moved it and things had grown. We drove down Hauptstrasse looking for #85. Drove down until the houses were getting farther apart and there were very few businesses and the numbering changed, then turned around and drove back. It was frustrating. All I had was that address and within a 10 minute drive, the only thing I knew to see was now a mystery. After all, I knew it still existed. I'd been in touch with Herr Pecoviks, a newspaper reporter that Grandpa had corresponded to. Originally, Mr. Pecoviks was going to give us a tour and even offered to make an appointment with the mayor. He'd told me that Grandpa's shop was still in existance. So I knew it was there. Just had no idea how to find it.

We stopped at the Rathaus to see if we could find out. A sign in the entry said auf deutch that they were closed to visitors due to the elections that would take place the following week. That was the same reason that Mr. Pecoviks was unable to help us this week. The building was open, but looked abandoned. Even the lights were off on the lower level and the visitor booth was dark and locked. For some reason, we went in anyway. A few steps in and we rounded a corner that led to a stairwell. Beginning there and winding all the way up the stairs was a series of posters on the walls depicting the history of Oberwart and the region before and during WW2 through photos, advertisements, and text. It immediately caught my attention and so dad and I started to take pictures of it all so that I could go back and better read it later. (It was all in German, so it's slow reading for me.) I think the plan was to leave when we got to the top of the stairs, but the posters didn't end, so I kept looking not sure what I would find. Nervous, since the building was dark, and a little worried that I might get in trouble for being there, I rounded the corner. At that moment any worry about being caught left and my entire focus was on this room. It was one of those moments where it seemed that time almost stopped or may be my heart stopped. I felt it in my throat as I looked up and saw a wall with the names of all the Oberwart Jews of that time. It was a huge wall may be 12' long and 6+' tall with an old photo enlarged in the background and the list of names. And on the right I found them all. Stricker Magdalena, Weber Joseph Paul, Weber Lenke (Helene), Weber Simon. My Aunt Margie, Grandfather, and Great Grandparents of which I remember Omi (Lenke) well.

I don't know if I was visibly teary then. I certainly felt it. That was a heavy moment and only became more intense as I turned not only to one side, but to both my left and right, to see two more walls, again covered with old photos in the background, the foreground of each being a solitary quote from my grandfather - nothing more. On the right, he talked about a Kapuchin monk that came about asking for alms which great-grandpa almost always gave. And when the monks slaughtered a pig, they'd bring sausage. And when they celebrated Pessach, they'd send some pastry. On the left wall, was another quote from grandpa again talking about the customers and the trade that got him violin lesson and Margie lessons on the piano. The entire room was dedicated to the Oberwart Jews - they're lives and businesses. Yet another wall there listed great-grandpa, Simon Weber, as a shop owner and listed his address as 85 Hauptstrasse.

This was too much. To see all this, I felt there must be a record - something - somewhere. So when I heard footsteps, I hurried a bit to find who they belonged too and asked in my very poor German, where we could get information on my grandpa's house. I pointed to the room emotionally. "That's my grandpa there. His name is there."

He led us downstairs to an office where we waited for a woman there to get off the phone. He stood for quite some time waiting with us. It was nice. After all, they were pretty much closed this day. It seemed like a while, but soon she got off the phone. She spoke only German as well, but she understood me and tried to help. From that office we went to another where another woman tried to help. They both made some phone calls. They all knew Pecoviks - the reporter - but none could reach him if they tried. Eventually we were led upstairs again to the office of a man who spoke very nice English. He walked into the room with us. I showed him grandpa's name. He made a phone call. And that was it.

He explained that the when my grandfather lived there in the 1930's, there were no street names, only numbers, so Hauptstrasse means "Main Street," but that doesn't necessarily correlate with todays Hauptstrasse. Also, the Russians came and burned down the Rathaus in 1945, so all the records up to that date are completely lost and they are only able to piece things back together through local historians who continue to put it all back together. One of those historians is Urusula Mindler from whose book, much of the exhibit was taken. And she took grandpa's quotes from "Vertrieben" by Lang, Tobler, and Tschoegl, Oberwart historians who came to inverview Grandpa in 2002. But, he thought he knew the house and seemed to remember the "beautiful villa" that was there until about 20 years ago when it was torn down to build the Billa grocery store that stands there now. I mentioned the Pinka - a river that Grandpa had played in. And his man smiled warmly - he knew the Pinka too. Said that it had changed as well, but he'd played there as a boy too.

So we walked out of there with no more information, really, than we walked in with, but having seen the exhibit demonstrating so clearly that my grandpa was not at all forgotten in his home. It was good.

Uncle Randy had given my dad a map with an X on it somewhere on Grazer street, so, without knowing what we were looking at, we went there to where the X was and saw houses. There was no way to know what house to look at and what it might be... if that was a place grandpa had lived or not. But still, we went and took pictures, then as it started to rain, we stopped by the onion domed church in the center of town on a hill - one that Dad recognized from old photos we'd seen. And we just walked around and took a few photos of that as well.

From there, we drove to Stadt Schlaining, a town that Grandpa had mentioned. He said there was a nice castle there, so we went and walked around. The castle itself was beautiful because of the deep valley that fell just below it making the bridge to the castle from the street quite high above the ground. Below it park trails wove back and forth among leaves that were already starting to turn. The castle was open, but quiet, so this was another time when Dad and I just walked around and took pictures. The strange thing was the "art" pressed against the corner of the inner castle courtyard - a conglomeration of auto parts all pushed together into a triangular mass. No sign explained it. It was just there looking brightly colored and out of place in contrast to the old well opposite it and the brick castle walls.

Stadt Schlaining was a beautiful little village. If it hadn't been so cold and drizzly, we would have walked around more there, but the weather was dictating a day of car tours instead of major walking expeditions.

Gross Petersdorf is where grandpa and Margie used to bike from Oberwart for an ice cream. I'm not sure how far it is across the farm fields as the crow flies, but both dad and I were surprised how far it seemed. Along the way we saw large fields full of dead and wilting sunflowers and corn. And hunters boxes tucked just along the treeline.

Out of curiosity, I looked up "attractions" on my GPS when we were on our way and among the attractions was something called "Weber," so I hit "Go" and we went to Miedlingsdorf #37. It was exactly on the way to where we were going anyway. Soon we turned off the road into a tiny village that basically consisted only of 2 residential roads and nothing else. The road we ended up on was a dead end in both directions. When the GPS announced, "arriving at destination - on right," we looked to our right and saw this tiny brick house that looked much older than any others on the street. The the entire face was painted white, then covered with a mural depicting war. There was no signature - just pictures and words. A small planter box of geraniums sat in the semicircular window and the old wooden shutters sat open just enough for me to see that there was a television on inside. It was eerie. Grandpa's name was Weber. We were on this trip in memory of him. And here were were in the middle of nowhere near a place where he and Margie went a lot, to find this war testimony with his surname on it. Of course, I'm sure there is no connection. There are plenty of Webers out there. But the timing of it was strange. An older lady leaned out of her window the entire time just looking around not paying any attention to us. I did ask her if she knew anything about it - or the name Weber, but she didn't seem to know. So, puzzled, we left, and did our drive through the ice cream town of Gross Petersdorf which was just another normal Austrian village. We didn't even stop there.

Rotenturm was our next stop, a village named after the castle with the red tower at its center. Again, we stopped, got out, and walked around the castle. There were no other choices here. Though the gates to the overgrown grounds around it were open, the castle itself, though beautiful, was in ruin. Wooden planks blocked broken doorways and missing windows and one entire side was bricked over in ugly new bricks that looked obnoxiously modern in comparison with the rest. The detail on the castle was so beautiful. I dreamed of owning it and turning it into a beautiful bed and breakfast. Dad, the practical one, had two words: Money Pit. Yeah, yeah. True, but wow. It was gorgeous! If I will the lottery...

The village was quiet. A few children ran around in the woods near the church until one of the mothers called them home. One woman walked up the little hill to the cemetery behind the little yellow church carrying a bucket of flowers and some sheers. A car or two drove by. And that was it. Dad posed by the large flat photo of a policeman standing on the side of the road... presumably all you need in a small village to stop traffic.

The drive back towards Bad Tatzmanndorf north of Oberwart was a bit adventurous cruising along streets barely wider than our tiny rental car. It's beautiful countryside though and quite charming.

Bad Tatzmannsdorf is a village near Oberwart to the north where Grandpa and his family actually lived briefly with the Sterns after the Jews were kicked out of Oberwart. It was there that we stopped for dinner and spent the night. It's flanked by hills on a couple sides covered in apple trees and large resort spas. Within the town itself almost every other building is a hotel/spa with full health services. Not needing fancy, we found a little place - Pension Restaurant Fuith. We looked pretty conspicuous, but it didn't bother me. I can speak enough German to get buy and the lady was nice. Dad had schnitzel (gebackenes Surschnitzel mit Bratkartoffeln und Krautsalat). I had venison with apples, dumplings, and berries (Hirschragout mit serviettenknoedel, gebratenen Apfelscheiben und Preiselbeeren). Both were delicious. The local wine that I had with it was delicious as well.

As in southern Germany, the people there greet each other with "Gruess Gott," literally meaning, "great God." When people enter a smallish restaurant or store, they say this greeting to all who are listening and the others will all repeat it. They also say "guten Abend" which means "good evening." It feels friendly even if it's habitual.

By the end of dinner, it was late and too dark to do any more sightseeing, so we found a place up the road for a fair price and that ended our time in the Oberwart area. The only Austrian town on my list that we missed was Oberschutzen, the town where grandpa went to school just briefly.

Photos:

24 September 2008

23 September 2008

When I moved here to Germany, there were two trips already set in my mind that I could not forget to take. One is the trip to Berlin that we'll do as a family this spring to tour the city and to see the place where my grandmother grew up. The other was the trip to the Burganland of Austria where my grandfather was born.

So last fall my dad and I began to plan this trip - a trip that was special for two reasons - one that it was a father-daughter vacation - just him and I traveling at our own speed, taking photos of absolutely everything, and enjoying the time together. We did a lot of trips together when I was little - hiking and camping, caving and kayaking. I've missed those, so this time was extra special. It's been a long time and the travel dynamic changes a lot when I lug my four girls with me. I think we both looked forward to some time with out the pull of anyone else.

The second was that this trip was fashioned by the early life of my grandfather. I spend the couple weeks before looking over the book he wrote for the family, scribbling down notes of every town and address that he mentioned there. I printed maps and calculated distances and driving times. And so it was planned... Vienna where grandpa went to school for a time, Oberwart where he was born, and Budapest where he spent a summer vacation with Aunt Margie. Looking back, now, there are things we missed and more I could have researched, but we did all that we could in the short time we had and with the information we had then.

More Trip Photos:

We began our adventure at the Cologne-Bonn airport with a German Wings flight. The only glitch of the trip occurred then as I sat at the gate just 10 minutes before boarding time and decided to look at my rental car voucher to double check the company that we would use. I saw the words "italia" on it and thought, "well, may be it's an Italian car." Then I saw "Marco Polo airport" and thought... "Well, there is a bit of Italian influence in Vienna... may be..." And then I looked again and to my horror saw the city: Venedig. The German word for Venice. My pre-paid, pre-arranged, tiny little rental was waiting for us in Venice. This is when the panicky crisis management adrenaline kicked in and I went into hyper drive... grabbed my cell and left a message for Kirk... then called the car company... they couldn't help me... then called the base office that made the mistake and they couldn't help me either - just told me to rent the cheapest car I could find when I got there. So... we had an uneventful flight into Vienna, then started going from rental agency to rental agency. Sold out, sold out, sold out, 550 Euro, sold out, sold out, 455 Euro, sold out, sold out... finally... over 300 Euro - over 100 Euro than we'd originally paid, and we had ourselves a tiny little basic car - reliable, but gutless and without any air conditioning.

Vienna, Austria:

The traffic was thick getting into the city, but nothing unusual. A series of one way roads made getting to the hotel tricky, but we made it to Tiefer Graben street to the Best Western there - the Hotel Tigris that is established in a building where Mozart once stayed with his father and sister. Two plaques commemorating Mozart's presence are on this street. Just a few doors up he stayed again and composed there as well when he was older. The hotel was clean and modern. Old tiny elevators and stone stairways gave way to spacious modern rooms brightly lit and decorated with modern art.

It was about 5 then, so we set out walking and just walked until it was too dark and cold to walk any more. It would take some thinking to retrace my steps and you probably would be in full snooze by then, but needless to say, we covered some ground and our shutters had little rest with the flurry of photography that happened between us. I traveled with my new lens since the old one is kaput - a new lens that is telephoto only, so I did a lot of backing away from things and taking pieces of buildings. An entire building could not fit in my view. My dad took the big pictures and I took the details. It worked.

Vienna is beautiful. I'd heard others say that it is too perfect. It is. A college student on the plane next to me said that there is an attitude adopted by true Viennese people - an aire of rudeness that is just typical and almost expected of them. I didn't find anyone that was overtly rude, but there isn't a lot of warmth there either. Still, every where I looked, I saw beauty, history, and pure elegance.

Just walking down "normal" streets is amazing. Giant statues adorn building corners, roof lines, and doorways as commonly as we hang curtains. They are everywhere. Little plaques saying "Mozart lived here" and others as well remind walkers by a bit of the rich history of Vienna. Shops sell exquisite things at princess prices. Even the cakes and chocolates are beautiful.

We walked down Herrengasse to the Hofburg/Imperial Palace that sprawls out and around the Burg, Hofburg, and Volks Gardens. It's a commanding structure in both its size and "fanciness" - kinda of standard there. Horse drawn carriages wait out front for any tourist who wants a ride. In the center of the round a bout in front is a large covered archaeological excavation. The church across the way looks almost plain in contrast to the grandeur of the green domed palace. Again... larger than life statues are just hanging out on the rooves in large dramatic gatherings, at the corners, and along the walkways though the palace gate. Every where you look there is drama and beauty in those carved faces.

The gardens display a simple beauty in contrast to the architecture surrounding them, so it's a peaceful quiet walk though them to the Rathaus and theater. We saw the towers of the Rathaus (City hall) and walked toward there admiring the Burg Theater across the street. Bright red geraniums overflowed from the boxes under each window of the Rathaus. I backed up as far as I could, leaning slightly into the temporary wall of the tent set up for the upcoming horse show and even then could only get a tower top or a window in my view.

A Burg Theater projector shone on the well known Cafe Landtmann's across the street changing the facade every 30 seconds. I stood and gazed at the famous theater than grandpa had gone to in his youth and where both my grandparents had been to together on their last trip to Vienna wondering what they'd seen and wishing I that they were with me now - going to a show together.

From there we passed the Parliament where a policeman seemed to be watching us. I walked up the steps anyway and continued to take pictures. There were a lot of police in the area and none of them seemed very friendly, so I did my best to ignore them and continue pretty sure that taking photographs was not verbotten.

Between Parliament and the Museum quarter we got hungry. But... restaurants are not abundant on the Karl Renner Ring and we weren't ready to commit to a lengthy nor expensive meal, so dad suggested a Wiener stand. There were several stands in a row near the bus stops... some selling gyros and pizza and another selling "weiners." So, for a handful of change, we each got a large hot dog (more like a German sausage than like the American version) stuffed into a hollowed out baguette. I'm not usually a fan of that sort of food, but I was hungry and it was absolutely delicious; albeit messy.

I'd forgotten how much ground you can cover when you're not walking along side short legs. We did cover a lot of ground walking in and around the museum platz with all the over sized buildings with grandiose statues and copper domes. The wide building at the end - the Museum Quartier - houses several smaller museums inside, a fancy restaurant, and a well graffiti-ed bathroom with a giant courtyard in the center. It was at this point that we just started a almost aimless wander... not that we ever had a plan, but this was the time when we'd see something and say, "let's walk to that ___ and see what it is" or "I'd like to get a picture of ___ and then we can head back." We walked and wound and got a bit turned around... saw crazy "Wiener" fashion, a store called HuManic whose name I found amusing, beautiful buildings and statues, and then, quite by accident, we stumbled up on the great St. Stephen's Cathedral - one that Grandpa had mentioned, and one that is impressive because of it's beautifully tiled roof. I've seen others now, so in comparison, it's pretty average, but at this moment, it was the first colorfully tiled roof that I'd ever seen, so I was just amazed and couldn't take my camera off of it.

By this time it was near 11, so we wound our way back finding our street but couldn't turn down it though we could see our hotel, we were looking at it from the bridge above it. It took just a moment, then dad saw the stairs through a narrow dark tunnel-like passage to the level of our street below.

Six hours of walking was almost enough to have a pretty good directional idea of the town, but not nearly enough time to see everything. There is just too much to see. I just might have to go back.

I'm supposed to be writing an article and packing... so, in order to speed that along, I'm writing my farewell note... no melodrama, but I am leaving for 10 days and could potentially not be near a computer. That's pretty painful. :)

So... though it's only Tuesday, I will be leaving EARLY on Thursday morning for our Krakow/Prague trip. Will return with photos... just need to find a good way to post them. Are the photo links working in the three posts below?

Wish us luck! This is a family trip - all 6. Will be interesting.

~T


Prague Appt:
http://www.praguecomfort.com/78401/index.html

Prague Links:
http://www.pragueexperience.com/
www.prague.cz

Krakow Appt:
http://www.holiday-rentals.co.uk/p96039

Krakow Information:
http://www.krakow.pl/
http://www.cracow-life.com

Twice in a lifetime...

Some would argue that once is enough... but I am married to a guy that really enjoys Al Stewart. And why shouldn't he... the lyrics are right up Kirk's alley... historical, intelligent, witty...

And I will begrudgingly admit that I have on rare occasion been known to hum a tune or two. They get stuck in your head. I think I just like that Katherine one because she's from Oregon... anything with Oregon in the title can't be bad. :)

So... Friday night we headed to Heerlen to see Al Stewart and his trusty sidekick Dave Nachmanoff in concert. Sat front row center level with the stage, so that I could casually stretch out and rest my feet on the stage' edge. The guitar duets intrigued me most... always fun to watch the rival guitars.

Had dinner close to the theatre - salad with lamb and coconut sauce. Amazing. Great meal.

Tonight the Turkish women created an evening of creativity and beauty as they modeled traditional dresses from Ancara. For two days they practiced walking down the catwalk in their colorful clothes, then the show began and dazzled us with their beauty, poise, and the intricacy of each gown.
Aşkın Yeşilbaş led a group of ladies in a traditional Turkish dance and we all enjoyed delicious doerners and sweet desserts.

Many lucky ladies went home with hand embroidered gifts. And the night owls among us stayed late to dance and enjoy the endless Turkish hospitality.

For photos and descriptions of the dresses, click on the link below.

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=65038&l=0bba3&id=674507268


If time would allow, I would happily expound upon this evening of amazing fashion from Ancara - each dress completely handmade, hand embroidery, hand beading... a work of art with only the best fabrics and silks available...

The dancing, the fun, the food...

And the little things that made this night unique from all the others...

But... I'm running away again - this time with my husband and kids... to a new place for us: Prague and Krakow - 10 days total.

Really, really, I'll catch up one of these days... one of these days I'll find time... still have so many photos and trips to share...

Tomorrow I'm teaching a pumpkin carving class for the international ladies here at my house, so today I ran to our local pumpkin to get a few to practice on and to have a samples of ideas that day.

Elise was with me, so I let her pick out a tiny little pumpkin - just about the size of the palm of her hand. She carried it to dance class so her little pumpkin could "watch" her dance. And she treated it like a really little baby.

When we got home and she walked into the house from the car, cradling the tiny pumpkin in her arms and said, "Pumpkin, I'm going to paint you. It might tickle a little bit."

Photos: Girls and Pumpkins~

This weekend was a three day weekend, but a cold, windy, nasty, misty, gusty, wet weekend here when the sun would peak out long enough to tease you into your shoes so that the second you stepped outside or even thought about going somewhere, it would let loose a shower of wet and leave you drenched and wondering what happened.

So... my plans on Strasbourg fell through due to our apprehension about the weather and our Friday was a warm, cozy one inside. Saturday looked even worse, but at 10am, it was dry, so Kirk told us all to get ready, we were going to Dinant. It was bit whirlwind and last minute, but by 1120 we were all piled the car with our cheerio breakfasts ready to go in their ziploc sandwich bags. (And now 1/4 are on my van floor - a big improvement to a couple years ago when only 1/4 would have been eaten and the rest were on the van floor)

Dinant is a small Walloon town in southern Belgium very near the French border. It's nestled in a valley hugging the river that divides it on either side. On the cliff above is an old Citadel which has a history dating back to the 11th century and the bridge dating back to the Roman age.

The town itself is picturesque and charming, so I was satisfied just walking along the restaurant lined riverfront taking pictures. But, we did the tour of the Citadel too -- a large building lined on so many walls with narrow slits they used to shoot from. One room had been knocked sideways during the war, so it was hard to walk without falling over and the water on the floor was completely sideways... it was strange to see it - seemed like it should be pouring down instead of sitting still at a slant.

We did a figure 8 all around the town. The kids liked the river and the ducks. Tiara told the girls what ducks say in French so we heard that for a solid 10 minutes from all three little ones as they greeted each duck that swam by.

Mid walk we stopped in a beautiful patisserie for ice cream (YUM), coffee, and cocoa. Cocoa made with milk and real chocolate. Delicious. And coffee that was smooth and creamy - I could have had 5. All the bakery windows were filled with couques de Dinant - the hardest cookie in Belgium, apparently, and ones that are imprinted with many different shapes/designs. They were pretty, but we didn't buy one. We got some other cookies instead that we forgot to try - I just remembered that they are still sitting in Tiara's purse.

Dinner was simple, but good. I had lamb. The girls had chicken nuggets, spaghetti, pizza... universal kid food. Kirk had the Croque Hawaii - a toasted ham, cheese, and pineapple sandwich - popular in Belgium, Netherlands, and France.

The big drama was in the last 5 minutes when Luci fell, scraped her knee and reopened an old scab leaving a 5x1" path of bright blood on her brand new white tights.

Knee aside though it was a nice day in a beautiful place, and we didn't do the boat ride that the girls were begging to do, so I think we must go back... just 90 minutes away, it really isn't far.

More Photos: