Not In Kansas Any More

I am looking out at another beautiful day here and am reminded of the storm we had a few days ago. This is an excerpt from my journal...

"Right now there is so much wind raging outside it feels like a tornado is coming down the valley! The dark clouds are gathering over the mountains and foothills and a violent wind is crashing against everything! Its crazy. The trees are half bent over and things are creaking, snapping, and flying all around.

I have not seen anything like it in a very long time. The sky looks almost like its boiling. The open windows are slamming in protest to the wind's assaults and Jen is securing the last of them in the living room. Batten down the hatches!"

Ever since that day on every outing Jen and I have there are signs of the storm everywhere. Down trees ripped out of hill sides with roots as tall as me twice over. I see crews of men cutting off branches that are dangling awkwardly and removing large old trees that fell victim to this great wind.

Today, however, is beautiful and I have already been to the Saturday market here in Lustenau. I think another great bike ride today is in order and perhaps some swimming in the river.

It's Not What You Think

I have been having a great time in Austria going many many places and doing even more in those places, but all the adventuring aside there is one kind of adventure that all travelers understand. Not all places have castles, or big lakes, or oceans, or mountains, or expansive rocky shore lines. People in these unknown places travel in different ways. Some travel by bike, or car or foot, or cart and donkey.

However, most of us are prepared for those kinds of surprises. We know that there will be language complications and at some point we will falter and get rice instead of noodles in some back corner stall in the night market. All of these things travelers expect to see and experience, but if you find yourself traveling through a foreign land there is something that no matter where you go is universally strange. The food and let me tell you its not always what you think it is.

I have walked into a local market and been shocked to see that there is no shampoo, or toothpaste, no you get that at the apocathary around the corner. Better still I once realized that in one place all there produce was sold in market only twice a week. Even in the States in many places you have to go to a different store to buy alcohol. The buying of food is set by tradition. It can very from town to town even.

Well now that you have located the food what is it? That tea you are buying looks good. Just some plain loose black tea, tea is tea, right? Not always true, but you get lucky and it is. You look for things you might recognize. Brands that might be familiar to you and then you realize the world is being taken over by Nestle and Kraft. Their every where. The water you're drinking is Nestle water! But it doesn't matter, you don't know what you're buying even if you do recognize the logo.

The worsted is what has happened to me countless times. I think I am out buying something common, how silly of me, and see the word emblazoned on the front of familiar packaging. Zucker, you know what that is because its in your 15 word repertoire of this language. Excellent! You pick up the bag, its smaller than they are at home, but that is not surprising. On inspection you know its sugar, feels granulated (You remember that powered sugar incident, lets not repeat that one.) and you believe you are buying something to sweeten your afternoon tea.

Triumphantly you pay for it, take it home, and put the kettle on. Cheerfully, it comes to a whistling boil and you pour some gurgling water into your waiting cup with tea already inside. You add the zucker and ah, first hot sip. Strange did the tea taste like that before? *Sip* You ignore the strange flavor for the first cup because you believe its you. Its been a long day and you're tired. That's it, yes, tired.

You have another cup in the morning. Same thing. What is wrong with my tea? Its...sour. No. Not sour exactly. You try, but you can't shake it. This feeling its your newly acquired prize. You stick your finger in the bag and taste the contents. Its sweet for sure, but its sour too. Not like a sour you have had before. Its a good kind of sour. The sugar looks at you daring you to look at the ingredients list. You do and with a sigh you see there are seven very long words you don't understand. Sugar should only have one.

On a second inspection you realize your folly its made from fruit. That sour taste is the fruit showing you its there. You have a 1000g of it. You look at your tea. Take another sip. Its not so bad. You could get used to this.

Kettles whistling and I could use another cup...

My Germany

Waking I see the weak sunlight on my walls and hear the soft rhythm of rain outside. The first of the concert of birds are congregating for the morning performance. Looking out the window I see the sun just peaking over the tips of the mountains and I know its early.

I wash up for the day, get dressed, run down to the bakery downstairs and buy breakfast in my broken German as the shop women look on me with endeared amusement. Then, back with pretzel in hand, I make coffee and set a simple breakfast of cheese, fruit, and a pretzel. I have done this every morning with only one exception. Setting it up and eating this simple meal with a book each morning is predictable and never varies. However, It has not lost its power to excite me, this trip to the bakery, and I find great amounts of pleasure in trying every kind of cheese and fruit the markets have to offer.

Its the simple things that make up my Germany. The castles are a fairy tale and a dream of the past, but this simple breakfast I take with the birds each morning and the long walks in the beautiful country side with so many Germans riding bicycles and gardening are what make it Germany for me.

Beauty Thy Name is The Alps

We are winding our way through the hills surrounded by villages that look strait out of old WWII movies, but from the old black and white films turned vibrant shades of deep greens, pale blues, and rich browns. The air is crisp and cool as only the mountains can know. There are Alpine lakes the color of deep blue and as clear as glass. I walked through the cool wet grass towards one of them and felt as if I could just reach down and snatch a fish glinting sunlight off its scales just below the surface. The sight of the mountains reflected in this natural looking glass fills the blood with adventure and daring you did not know you had.

Driving farther along the road I see the white spire of a castle in the distance, then a turret, then the great walls. It springs from the ground of the tallest hill top like a great white spike through the green and mist threatening a take over of the heavens above it. No wonder some one thought to put a castle here. This is our destination, to explore Neuschwanstein and the surrounding area.

We went on the stock tours through the great halls and told about the Lords and Ladies that resided there. The same dry script for every tour, every 30 minutes, for 8 hours a day, but that is not why I come to these places. I come to imagine what it was like for those servants creeping around the narrow passage ways between the drafty walls to get the fires lit. The walls have ears. Ever wonder where that saying came from? Its from what the servants (and others wanting to spy) heard from those cramped tiny passages about the lives of their masters while trying to not be seen or heard, but always seeing and hearing. A haunting thought.

My First Cup!

As most of you know I am in Austria for the next few weeks staying in this "swap" house with my sister-in-law. There is the language barrier as neither of us speaks German. I speak and understand about 15 key words and she understands a few less than that so she defers to me for the translation. You can see how this is all going to go, but we are both seasoned travelers and have done more difficult things than work out a language. It helps that the locals in this sleepy little town are uber nice and speak rapid (most slow down when they see we are perplexed) German to us trying to explain where the supermarkets are.

We are having a great time and this is my second morning here. Yesterday was spent convincing ourselves that the sun should be up and so should we, taking walks around the village, and getting a Sunday morning treat from a bakery. The weather could not be finer, the village could not be cuter, and the people could not be nicer.

The sun is starting to peak through the retreating rain clouds from the nights magical rain storm. They remind me of Colorado rains as I am surrounded by mountains, but with a bit more order to them, and the smell of fresh baked pretzels is filling my bedroom.

It's Monday morning for me and after paying too much for really good coffee in a cafe/bakery yesterday we bought some espresso grounds. Well this morning was my first go with this espresso maker. To tell you the truth, looking at it I was concerned I would not get an in-house cup for my remaining time here (Where does the water go?). But this morning I produced a not-too-bad pull of espresso and steamed some milk to go along with it. I think everything is going to be smooth sailing from here.

My Mother

My childhood was blessed with family, companions, places to adventure freely, and the best mother anyone could ask for. It is not always what you are taught, sometimes its how you are taught that makes the lesson. I could thank my mother for a great many things, but I think I will only mention one.

My brothers and I were encouraged to roam freely, explore, and adventure through the long hot summer months. Swimming, fishing, climbing, biking, boating, and exploring. This was our childhood packed with Koolade and peanut butter sandwiches. We even had cousins that were adept at getting into mischief with us. We were more like The Dirty Half Dozen with fishing poles, pocket knives, and buckets at the ready. It is a testament to the resilience of children and our parents first aid skills that we all made it out of childhood with all our limbs in-tacked.

I wonder if my mother ever thought, “That's enough!” after so many stitches and broken bones, ours and hers. If it ever crossed her mind she never spoke of it and because of this freedom in childhood my mother raised three very adventurous strong children. As Mother's Day creeps up on us all the days get longer and warmer transporting me to those great days of adventure and coming home to a cold glass of ice tea and a hug.

I am about to take yet another adventure in the coming weeks. Though I live many states away and am an adult she will be concerned as I travel across the Atlantic. There is no doubt that my mother worries about her children, even now when we are all grown, she is our mother and for that I will be ever grateful.