Neglect

I haven’t written in so long, not even sure I remember how. Hi Computer. It’s Me, Heather. Member me??? Tall, blond, crazy hair? Oh, say that reminds me. I got told by the Bulgarian guy in my class that I had ‘golden ringlets,’ which of course I ate up like a double dip of strawberry gelato. I took a moment to picture myself as Goldilocks, or maybe even Rapunzel. Ah… BUT, no fear, no need to knock my ego off its high horse. My German teacher took care of that in no time. She happened to mention that Germans also call curls like mine “snails.” Great, so I have snail hair. Moving to Bulgaria where I sound prettier.

So, my Mom and Dad arrived about 2 weeks ago. Yeah-scray! Thus, I’ve been so busy playing tour guide that I haven’t kept up the blog with what we’ve been doing. For starters, we just got back from 9 days in Northern Italy. Goodbye beer, Hello red vino! I kept some notes (wouldn’t even go as far to call it journaling) along our journey. They may be a little scatterbrained since I can’t read my own handwriting. Anyway…enjoy.

Bruges

What does anybody know about Belgium? Not much, is my guess. All I knew was that it neighbors Germany and that they brew good beer. That, my friends, was the extent of my knowledge. So last week, Tim and I had the opportunity to do some investigation. We came up with a theory. We think Belgium is doing something really horrible, like smuggling drugs or selling small children or ripping tags off of mattresses because it falls just a little under the radar. Even here in Germany, no one seems to know much about their neighbor. For example: Tim found out they have a King. Did you know that? How come he isn’t painted all over the tabloids like Chuck and QE’s fam? Curious, I say.

Anyway, Tim was working most of the week south of Brussels, which is in the French speaking part of Belgium. (Belgium Random Fact: They speak French in the south and Flemish in the north, which is essentially Dutch, although neither the Flemish nor the Dutch will claim the other’s language.) So I picked him up on Friday there and we drove on to Bruges. What an absolutely beautiful city! Belgium, like the Netherlands, is considered a “Low Country” so picture a lot of canals, not to mention absolutely beautiful gothic buildings from the Middle Ages.

Quick history on Bruges. Back in the 12-1500s Bruges was a big trade city due to its proximity to the North Sea. But in the middle 1500s, their Queen-type person fell off a horse and died at about the same time the canal to the sea filled up with silt. Not so good for the Bruggian economy. Thus, the town got pretty much wiped off the map for a few hundred years. They were so poor that they couldn’t even afford to tear down the old buildings to build new. But, that misfortune later became their good fortune. Because they had no money, the town got kinda pickled in the Middle Ages and now enjoys a pretty kickin' tourist industry. (Yippee--Happy Ending.)

Tim and I got in on Friday evening and stopped first at our Bed and Breakfast. Just perfect. It’s an old leather mill turned into a home right in the middle of the Old City. The woman that runs it lost her husband a few years ago and essentially takes you into her house to enjoy your company. Saturday we spent the day sight seeing: cruising on the canal, checking out the Gothic Cathedrals, climbing the Belfry, and perhaps tasting the Belgian beer.

At dinner that night, I left our table for absolutely no longer than 2 minutes, came back to find that my husband had befriended an entire Scottish family of 10. Before we knew it, we had been adopted and spend the evening with Gram and his wife Gail, his 2 small children, his Aunt Doreen and Uncle Billie (who live in Malaysia,) his cousins, his dad-Papa David and his mother, which he lovingly referred to as “the Dragon.” The Scottish drinking songs entertained the whole restaurant and the Guinness and whisky flowed like water. So apparently, when in Bruges…do as the Scots do!

A truly wonderful weekend.

Filtering

Quote for the day. Heck, quote for the past 10 months. Tim and I were trying to sum up our Ex-pat experience the other day as we sat in this beautiful garden on a canal in Bruges (more on that later). I mentioned that for me, learning this language and culture has been 80% amazing and 20% “Oh Dear God, What Did I Get Myself Into.” I’m finding that right now I’m doing a lot of filtering, unfortunately, when I can’t quite understand the people around me. Yep, pretty sure I have the vocabulary of about a 5-year-old. (But a really bright 5-year-old, dad-burn-it!) Not sure if you remember being that age, but there’s a heck of a lot that you just don’t get. Thus, one method to deal with your unsure-ity (is this a word?) is to completely tune out. This is what Tim and I lovingly call, "Screen Savor Mode." I know this place well.

Tim, as usual, put it a lot more eloquently. He said, “It’s like trying to get a drink out of a fire hose.” Amen. Welcome to our world.

My Hero

Bad Dancer. Seriously Cool Guy. Check it out.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bNF_P281Uu4

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zlfKdbWwruY&feature=user

Seven Sleepers Day

I’ve figured it out!!! I no longer need a Meteorology degree to predict the weather here. Next Wed is Siebenschlaefertag! Seven Sleepers Day, which is the German version of Groundhog’s Day. Ok, so, my details are a little shaky, and I’m gonna warn you that my normal research (aka google-ing and wikipedia-ing (Dude, I’m sooo gonna Wiki that!)) have left me with some holes. My recommendation: Use your imagination and make it up. That’s my plan.

Sooo—Seven Sleepers Day has a couple of meanings from what I’ve come across. It is both an animal (a cute little hibernating dormouse), and also an old Christian Legend. I’ll start with history and work my way into cute little furry creatures.

The Tale
Picture the year 250. Seven men are accused of “Christianity” by the pagan Roman Emperor Decius (Rome didn’t become Christianized until Constantine in 315ish) and, of course, the guys are persecuted. The de-ci-ent Decius (laugh here), gives the seven dudes time to repent. But, in the ways of all martyrs, the Seven give all their money to the poor and go off to a cave to pray. Where they promptly fall asleep. (Whoops.) During their slumber (persecution must be REALLY tiring) Emperor Decius has the cave sealed off. Fast forward now to about 400 a.d. The Landowner of the cave decides to open it up to make cattle pen. And lo! What do his wandering eyes did appear? But seven guys starting to wake up from a long winter’s nap. Long winter’s nap of about 150 years! (Time varies here depending on whom you ask.) The men thought they’d been asleep only one day (crazy Christians) but were thrilled that crosses had replaced the pagan gods. So the sleepy seven become saints—thus Seven Sleepers Day.

The Tail
There actually is an animal the ‘Siebenschlaefer’ that’s some sort of a dormouse. (Actually, believe he’s called the “Edible Dormouse” which makes me think twice about eating sausage.) Anyway, he hibernates not really for seven months, which one would think, given his name, but from about September through the end of May. Now how a dormouse correlates to seven Christians I’ll never know. Makes about as much sense as a fat guy in a red suit coming down your chimney on Jesus’ birthday, huh.

So what does this have to do with weather you ask? No idea. Just that June 27th happens to be called Siebenschlaefertag, and according to the German version of the Farmer’s Almanac, this very day will predict what the weather will be like for the next 7 weeks. Or throughout July. (I’ve read both, so not sure.) They’ve got cute little rhyming things here like:

*Wie das Wetter am Siebenschläfer sich verhält, ist es sieben Wochen lang bestellt. (How the weather behaves on Seven Sleepers Day, is what we order for the next seven weeks. Sorry—no attempt at rhyming.)
*Ist der Siebenschläfer nass, regnet’s ohne Unterlass. (Is the Edible Dormouse wet, then prepare to get seriously soaked. Yep, I took liberties with the translation of that one.)
Or my fav:
*Wenn die Siebenschläfer Regen kochen, dann regnet’s ganze sieben Wochen. (Which I think translates into something like we’re gonna get real wet here if we happen to cook the edible dormouse in rainwater. Blechhh.)

Here’s the kicker. Looks like this forecast is not so accurate for Northern Germany because of the Jet Stream. BUT…in Southern Germany, where we live, it’s 60-70% accurate. Halleluiah! Happy Seven Sleepers Day to all! And to all a Good Night!

Wie ist das Wetter?

Many of you have asked what the weather is like over here in these parts. Well, to tell you the truth, I have no clue. I am truly not smart enough to figure it out. I cannot, repeat: cannot, understand the weather here in any way, shape or form. So don’t ask me what to pack for those of you coming to visit, for I will inevitably tell you the wrong thing. We are not in Spain, so the rain does not stay mainly on the plain.

Let me tell you a little of why I’m rather Confucius.

Before we made this move, we had heard that the weather here was basically a milder version of the Midwest. Take, oh say Peoria, and drop about 10 degrees off either end. The colds shouldn’t be so cold and the hots shouldn’t be so hot. Ok. Easy-peasy. Well, let me just tell you that if I ever figure out who told us this load of horse manure, I might just haul off and shoot that messenger di-rectly!

Midwest weather, although miserably humid in the summer (which turns my hair into a beast that resembles the blond version of whatever dead animal Diana Ross has on her head nowadays) at least has seasons. Summer—hot. Winter—cold. Fall—crisp. Spring—grab your umbrella. Even things like March—in like a lion, out like a lamb are truly helpful in “How do I let my kid leave the house for school this morning?” Or in my case, “How do I let myself leave the house for school this morning?” (Don’t forget your sack lunch!)

Let me pause here and give a quick sidenote with one of my theories: There is truly no bad weather, only bad fashion choices. I love rain, as long as I’m not wearing dyed satin shoes (as per Homecoming senior year.) No one celebrates snow as much as I do, carefully donned in hat, gloves, scarf and heavy coat. Sun’s out? No problem, just throw me a visor and perhaps some SPF 15. I love seasons. I love storms. I love to run in the rain, because somehow being out in the elements makes you feel more alive. After all, my dream job is to be a mailman, errr woman, that’s how much I love weather.

Let me now add what has been my German experience, because honestly, it’s all I got.

Screens
Germans do not have air-conditioning. We have giant windows that open like doors or tilt back to let air in. So you would think we would have screens, right? Nope, you thought wrong. Most homes are sans screens. And anyone who tells you that Germany doesn’t have bugs is a liar-liar-pants on fire. As we haven’t gotten into truly hot summer yet (assuming it exists), and seeing as how we have indoor cats, I have NO idea how this is gonna pan out.

Meteorolo-huh?
I have no idea when I leave the house in the morning what the day has in store. Just because it’s sunny and warm in the village where we live, it may be cold and rainy in Regensburg, which is only 12 km away. I find that half the time the weather is completely different in all of the little villages around here, which makes me think, maybe we aren’t all living underneath the same big sky. (Yep, just quoted Fievel Mouse.) We don’t seem to have storm systems, which can give a little warning on the ole Doppler radar of what’s coming ‘round the mountain. Unfortunately, all of a sudden a huge, gray, fast-moving cloud just appears out of nowhere and as soon as you notice it, the heavens open up. Germany Travel Tip #42: Don’t leave home without your umbrella. I have come home looking like a drowned rat more times than I can count on both hands. Or toes. Whatever you choose. (I choose toes; with fingers I always forget where I started.)


Freezing my cha-chas off.
We came over for our house hunting trip the first week of July last year. I packed sundresses and flip-flops. FROZE. Moved here at the end of August. Again, only had summer things with a couple pairs of jeans and a jacket. FROZE. Had to buy a fleece third day we were here. (And here is where I’ll lose your sympathy.) I know you people in the Midwest are gonna tell me I’m ridiculous since you all had the coldest, most snowing-est winter in about a thousand years, and I have to report that our winter was very, very mild. Think we only had snow in November, just in the knick of time to hit all of our visitors, then again around Easter, which as memory serves was in March. Already I can hear you saying “huh?” Yep, me too. Isn’t snow supposed to be in the winter? Does El Nino affect Deutschland too?

So now, after I’ve spent a month at home during truly beautiful Midwest May weather (I missed most of these horrible rains that are flooding nearly every county on the Mississippi), I expected it to be sunny and warm here in Germany. Just to make sure I was prepared, I made some great contributions to my summer wardrobe during my journey. So you can imagine how I felt when I got off the plane last week, FROZE and reached for my fleece.

After all that ranting, okay--whining, I have to say, all’s well that ends well. Yesterday it was finally warm enough to break out the summer clothes. I think it may have gotten up to 80 both yesterday and today. (Not entirely sure since I don’t speak Celsius yet.) Anyway, I have no idea what tomorrow will bring, but today sure is a beaut’. Come over and see for yourself!

Remind Me Again, Why Are We Doing This?

Hi all. I'm back in Germany after a wonderful month home in the states. I have to admit, getting on the plane this time was pretty difficult. Knowing that my amazing husband was there on the other side waiting for me (oh, and my kitties) was just about the only thing that got me aboard. If all you people that I visited would have been just a little grouchier and treated me a little less like a celebrity, maybe I wouldn't have had this problem! (Umm...but please do it again next time.) Anyway, after a 10 hour attitude adjustment on the plane, I'm back and glad to be back and ready to continue our journey here.

I just came across this quote in Yoga Journal yesterday from Don George, the global travel editor of The Lonely Planet Publications. For me, it has given a little meaning as to why Tim and I are here. Hope you enjoy. (And I promise a less sappy entry next time.)

Traveling to unfamiliar lands can be more than a simple vacation. When you don't understand the language, the need to rely on others for help can refine your practice of vulnerability. Becoming vulnerable requires concentration, devotion, and a leap of faith—the ability to abandon yourself to a forbiddingly foreign place and say, in effect, "Here I am; do with me what you will." It's the first step on the pilgrim's path.

The second step is absorbing a lesson that grows from the first: The more you humble yourself, the greater you become. The more you see of the world, the more you realize what a vast and awe-inspiring place it is. Travel teaches us how small we are, and when we truly understand this, the world expands infinitely. In that moment, we become part of the larger whole. Every journey takes us inward as well as outward. As we move through new places, encountering new people and food and artistic creations, new languages and customs and histories, a corresponding journey winds within as we discover new morals, meanings, and imaginings. The real journey is the ongoing and ever-changing interaction of our inner and outer lives.