Oh to be young and carefree again. (NOT!)

I'd awoken that morning with a headache. The kind that makes you understand why patients in the middle ages agreed to let their doctors pierce their skulls with instruments which were probably better suited for gardening.

My first instinct was to burrow back under the covers, but we had a guest staying with us, so I had entertaining duties in addition to some unavoidable errands. I dragged myself out of bed and pulled on a pair of semi-clean jeans that were lying in a crumpled heap on the floor.

We stopped at a gas station on the way out of town. The headache had continued to amplify, so I remember being a bit slow to answer when our friend said: "Um Betsy, is that your underwear?"

I turned around to look in the direction he was pointing and saw a familiar-looking pair of bikini briefs lying on the ground behind me. My stomach turned.

My mother always taught me that honesty is the best policy, even if the truth is horrifically embarrassing. So I said:

"No! Of course not! Why would you think that?"

He looked very confused. "Well, because I just saw them fall out of your pants leg. Aren't you going to pick them up?"

I looked at him as if he were insufferably stupid and said: "You must be mistaken. I've got my own underwear, thanks." And showed him the waistband.

And I must have been pretty convincing because he became so confused that he stood rooted to the spot with his mouth open.

I herded him back to the car and drove off quickly, trying to divert his attention, trying to forget the fact that earlier that morning I'd picked up a pair of jeans off of the floor. A pair of jeans which I'd slipped off the night before with my underwear still inside. A pair of underwear which I left forlorn and betrayed on the ground at a gas station on the road to hell...

Now it's your turn. Tell me one of your most embarrassing moments! :-)

He plans to major in "Grime Management"

This morning I overheard B telling a classmate that he thought the school should replace Stützunterricht with Schmutzunterricht.

(So rather than remedial classes he'd like to be offered filth education.)

Aesthetic diversion

I haven't had a lot to say these last few days. My mind seems to be even more cluttered than my desk, which is no small feat!

All in all, though, things are going well. The boys are settling into school and we're all trying to find our groove with our newly crammed schedules.

And in the midst of all the chaos I lack words. I search for them in English and they elude me in German. And in acknowledgment of this rare occurrence I've pulled together a couple of photography links for your viewing pleasure.

	Laura has posted some really gorgeous work on her blog Today on my Wanderings. She manages to convey a lot of emotion through her photography and I really enjoy her perspective of Germany!
	Allison and Jenn are a well-known phenomenon in the expat blogging community. They joined forces to create Looking Into, which is a visual feast.
	And no list of photography links would be complete without a nod to Chuck over at CRB Photography. He's a globetrotter, superhero, dad, and he's got a great eye to boot!

The truth, the whole truth and nothing but...

I was putting on makeup this morning when B strolled into the room.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm putting on eyeliner."

"Why?"

"Well, people think it makes women's eyes look prettier. Want to see it? Look-- I've got it on my left eye, but not on my right. Do you see the difference?"

"NO! All I see is a bunch of wrinkly lines next to your eyes!"

Wordless Wednesday: Gang signs

*More Wordless Wednesday.*

So hard to keep a straight face!

B ate his dessert yesterday evening with that fully-concentrated gusto only he can muster. And, as usual, when he finished he was a complete mess. There was chocolate on his hands, his cheeks, even his nose! So I sent him upstairs to clean up.

He came back downstairs within a minute and he was almost as dirty as he had been when he'd gone up!

"B, I thought I told you to wash your hands!"
"But I did!"
"Did you use soap?"
"Yes!"

As this was obviously not the case I looked at him and raised my eyebrows.

"I did use soap!

...Just not this evening..."

Relieved and happy

Those of you who have been following this blog for a while know that my introduction to the German school system was not a positive experience. The principal was arrogant and inflexible, the teacher(s) screamed at the class and the situation on the playground was chaotic.

This was a double whammy-- we'd just left an excellent school in Flanders and on top of that S had a lot of catching up to do because of the new language. The school system here works fine as long as the students are of average ability, but as soon as they drift toward either end of the spectrum or need extra attention they fall through the cracks.

(Case in point: there's a boy this year who's repeating first grade for the third time. This kid is almost 10 years old and is expected to spend another year among 6 year olds! To me that seems inhumane and unjustifiable!)

In our elementary school status-quo seems to be the ultimate goal: Cookie cutter children who use uniform book covers and who are taught not to think outside of the box. Creativity is considered undesirable and is only encouraged within the very strict confines of a weekly art class.

Last year S's teacher was so aggressive that I was afraid that he might lose that spark that keeps him inquisitive about life around him.

But somehow he held on. Through sheer determination, hard work, and a god-given talent for languages, S not only caught up, but even excelled in this harsh atmosphere. The first few months were arduous, but we worked together and in the end he won a prize for reading more (German!) books than anyone else in his class.

This summer I tried in vain not to worry about who the boys would get as a teacher. This is doubly important since they keep the same teacher for two years-- I had to force myself to stop envisioning scenarios in which we repeated difficult experiences from last year!

Of course the situation is different now-- B's German is completely fluent and he is entering school with some other children from his kindergarten, which makes the transition easier.

But they are so small and vulnerable and I get a knot in my throat thinking about what it must be like to be screamed at by your teacher. To be humiliated in front of the class. S went through it and somehow came out stronger. B would probably survive as well, but really, is it normal for a parent to have to hope that her child will receive a humane introduction into the lifelong quest for learning?!

LUCKILY B's teacher seems great. She's young and motivated and warm. When she met B she asked if he was nervous, and when he admitted he was she said: "Me too."

And I've actually got a lump in my throat as I'm typing this, because isn't that what first graders need? A little bit of kindness? It's unfortunate that it seems to be such a rare occurrence, but that also makes it that much more precious...

Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee(ski)...

I was working in the garden yesterday and turned around to find this lurking behind me...

How did this happen?!

Tomorrow B will be heading off to school for the first time. I'm spending this evening stuffing his Schultütte and trying not to think about the fact that my youngest child is now in elementary school!

I've always inwardly groaned when people say "Enjoy them while you can because it goes so fast!" But there's a reason that that's become a cliché. Where has the time gone?!

I'm a long way from enlightenment...

I have a horrible confession to make.

I downloaded the new 50 Cent album yesterday and and it's horrendous. Totally inappropriate, offensive, depraved, and... umm... I really like it.

Last hurrah before school starts tomorrow

We just got back from a long weekend camping with Oma and Opa at the Bodensee (Lake Constance). The weather here was crappy so we almost didn't go, but we took a chance anyway and got lucky: some sunshine and relatively warm weather! The kids even got to swim yesterday, although they came out of the lake covered in a double layer of goosebumps.

Since we hadn't really planned it beforehand this trip seemed like a bonus; a luxury we were able to squeeze in just before school starts back tomorrow.

	This is not a joke. WTF?! I can't figure out if this is a line of beauty products made for or by evil little people...
	This souvenir shop had the standard tacky personalized greeting cards. Betsy wasn't in there. As a kid I was always disappointed to have been excluded from this kind of merchandise, but back then I was passed over for names like "Amy", "Lisa" and "Tammy". Bärbel, Boris, Brunhilda, Burkhard, Birgit and Beat? Are they kidding?
	I've been thinking of trying out a new hair color. But not at this salon.
	We walked to Austria for lunch one day. It sounds impressive until you realize that the border was only about 1 km further down the road. Here we are with one foot in Germany and the other in Austria...
	This is one of my favorite family photos ever! We spent the afternoon at the Zeppelin Museum in Friedrichshafen and had just come out of a 3D movie about blimps. Which was actually more fun than it sounds...

Unexpected gift

I was up early this morning and took advantage of the quiet to catch up on blogs. S came shambling down the stairs, his hair and face tousled. Sleep still clung to him like a fine mist. He is almost eight years old, but in that instant he bore the expression of a winsome toddler. Something long-gone yet familiar; warm and fragrant as fresh baked bread.

He climbed unbidden into my lap and curled his lanky boy body around mine. And I savored the sweetness of this fleeting phenomenon. A pearl nestled in the middle of an otherwise slippery oyster; treasure glinting through the fog of a mundane Thursday morning...

At least it wasn't a FlowBee*...

M came home yesterday with an impish smile: "I've got a present for you."

"YOU BOUGHT ME A PRESENT?!"

"Ummmm. No. It's from my colleague, H."

Oh god.

H has become a regular around here, which is surprising if you consider that I flashed him the first time I met him. And that I fed him vomit-colored stew shortly thereafter.

Anyway, it appears that H has a strong stomach. That, and he's got my best interests at heart, because when he was at the grocery store the other day he saw a shirt-folder and for some reason he thought of me. (???)

"Wait-- WHAT???!!! A shirt-folder. You're kidding, right?"

M chuckled. "Um. No. It's just like the ones you see advertised on TV."

I was completely dumbfounded. As you can see from the breakfast crumbs still on the table when I took this picture at 2:30 pm, I don't exactly excel at home ec.

Is H trying to tell me something? That my husband is rumpled? Maybe that I need a hobby?

A younger version of Betsy would probably have had to be restrained to keep from burning this gift and pouring the ashes into the next pot of vomit-colored stew.

I've mellowed a lot over the years, though, luckily. Now all I can do is laugh. Me! A shirt-folder! Who'da thunk it?!!!

*I just checked, and the FlowBee is actually still around! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

Force of nature

Yesterday we made a day trip down to the Rheinfall (in Schaffhausen, Switzerland), the largest waterfall in Europe.

The weather was gorgeous and we hiked around the outer rim.

Here's a quick video of the first section of the waterfall in case you need a 17 second virtual field trip:



Not much else to say this morning. What are you up to today?

Just when you thought it was safe........

When I was little I harbored an innate fear of revolving doors. Afraid of passing through too fast; terrified of being too slow. When walking through I could easily imagine the panel behind me speeding up and opening its jaws to reveal three rows of razor-sharp teeth.

This morning we were on our way into an office building and of course I entered through the regular door. S didn't. I had just gotten inside when I heard him screaming:

"MAMAAAAAAA! AAAAAHHHHH!!! HELPPPPP!"

and turned around to see him lying on the floor caught in the revolving door. It had run him over and swallowed one of his feet; I could see his toes and the sole of his sandal sticking out in the neighboring section.

A man who had been standing outside smoking rushed in to help and together we pushed the door back in the other direction, freeing S, but running over his foot a second time in the process.

Luckily the office had a bathroom with a big sink. I filled it full of cold water and held his foot in it for about 10 minutes. We stopped by the doctor's office on the way home, but as Murphy would have it, it was closed for lunch.

By the time we got home S was totally calm, so I don't think he's broken anything. One side of his foot is blue and swollen but now that he's had some ibuprofen and a couple of hours have passed he seems to be able to walk on it OK.

So take this as a cautionary tale. Trust my instincts and avoid rotating doors at all costs. Just when you thought it was safe; The legend continues...

Need a laugh?

Davezilla posted a link today that will cut through even the most pernicious case of post-vacation blues! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

There's no place like home!

Aaah! It's good to be back! It's a real novelty to be able to shower without shoes on! The 12 hour drive back went pretty smoothly and we spent the rest of the weekend unpacking, cleaning the camper and doing load after load of toxic laundry.

We've been bitten by the camping bug, though-- the kids have two weeks before school starts and we're thinking of squeezing in one more quick trip before then.

It's been fun to be able to go through all of our pictures! There were so many that I wanted to share-- normally I just put them in a table in one post, but figured that it might be easier this time to insert them into the posts that they belonged with. That way the context is clear and no explanation would be needed. If you're interested you can just scroll down through the last three weeks of posts...

Road trips...

It turns out M was as campground claustrophobic as I was on Monday. Shortly after I posted we hopped into the car and drove to Grožnjan, which is in a hilly area inland to the east of here. The buildings in Grožnjan date back to the 1100's, but by the early 20th century it had fallen into ruin. In the 1960s many of the houses were given to artists who christened Grožnjan a "Town of Arts" and lovingly restored the buildings and the protective wall around the city.

The result is beautiful— it has a charm and an elegance that a lot of other villages in the area lack. It’s full of galleries and boutiques, but isn’t tacky in any way. The cobblestone streets are bordered by plants with fragrant flowers and soft cello music spilled out of an open window. We sat out on an open air terrace under some trees and enjoyed a very nice, simple supper.

Yesterday we traveled out east again and explored Krk, the largest island in the Adriatic region. The island itself is funny—when you cross over a bridge from the mainland you feel like you’ve landed on the moon. It’s covered in small beige pebbles and there are no trees—only a bit of scrubbrush dots the landscape.

There is more vegitation further inland, however, but local farmers have to build stone walls to keep the wind from destroying their vineyards. The main city is at the very southern tip of the island and the old center dates back to 1100 AD!

We also visited Punat, which is a pretty little town with an international Marina on the southern coast of Krk. Then we traveled briefly to Cres, a neighboring island, and then took a ferry back to the mainland. It was nice to be active and on a new adventure.

Today we had lunch at the local marina. Last week when we were there B was walking around looking at all of the interesting things that people were eating. At one point he came to a table where a man was eating a plate full of mussels. Despite his Belgian roots B had never seen mussels before! The guy saw him staring and said: “Would you like one?” and popped one into his mouth! He loved it!

Since then he cannot stop thinking about mussels. Today he was determined to eat a plate full of them. It was such a pleasure to watch him eat—he enjoyed it in a way only B can. He is our full-sensory kid. He examined them from all sides; smelled them with and without lemon; felt their texture with his fingers and tongue and commented on the nice sound the empty shells made when he dropped them into the bowl. He savored them with every fiber of his being in a way that I rarely take the time to do.

Now we’re back. The kids are out riding their bikes and I think I am going to go warm up my lawn chair. We have just heard that it’s 17°C in Köln. *shudder* I’m looking forward to getting back home but am really going to miss this weather!!! This is probably the first time in almost 15 years that I’ve missed anything about Florida!

REDRUM REDRUM

Early this morning I was wrenched from the depths of sleep by a woman calling loudly to her children right outside my window. I summoned up every bit of evil energy I could muster and beamed it in her direction. Within two minutes it started lighting and thundering. Within five it was pouring rain.

How cool is that!?

Now if only I could learn to harness this energy and somehow use it on my children…

There are no words to describe the Crazy Cars Auto Motor Show yesterday evening. Or there are, but they’re along the lines of “terrifying” and “panic-inducing”, which doesn’t adequately describe the horror I felt during most of the 100 minutes it lasted.

I suppose I should have realized it was not my kind of show during the warmup, in which we were introduced to “Big Sven” and his unicycle. Big Sven was missing about half his teeth, presumably due to some less successful tricks on the asphalt. To his credit, he only fell in front of us once, but then it was hard enough to break the hurdle he was trying to jump over. Shortly thereafter he grabbed a somewhat dazed-looking toddler and cycled around with him on his shoulders…

The show consisted of various stunts using motorcycles and quads. The star was erratic and wired; gave the impression that he'd survived the last three days on nothing more than cigarettes and amphetamines. He wore no helmet and performed a few tricks in which he hung by his knees 30 meters above the asphalt with no safety cord and no net.

I have to admit that the stunts were impressive. But often in a sort of disagreeable, toe-curling kind of way. I was convinced that I would be able to link to a YouTube clip today—one which would bear the tags “fatal” and “accident” and maybe even “spectators crushed in rollover incident”.

When we left the grass in front of our bleachers was on fire from an accidental gasoline spill and the daredevil star had ended his last trick by limping off the field amidst a flurry of (supposed) paramedics and a clown in a curly rainbow-colored wig...

Tomorrow we’re planning to visit Ljubliana. Slovenia is only about 30km to the north and we were really impressed with what we saw on the way here.

That’s good, because I’m really needing a change of scene. It’s time to flee the hoards of sweaty tourists with their tacky fake tattoos, their tight Playboy T-shirts and their skin which has been cooked to the color and texture of bacon. I’m starting to chafe at the lines for the shower and the baker and the sound of our neighbor’s voice as he describes his latest blackout due to copious amounts of Ouzo and Brandy…

It’s stopped raining but the sky is still leaden and threatening. Time to close this down and go mine the guidebook for some kind of indoor diversion. Otherwise I can’t be responsible for what I might do next with the lightning and the thunder…

**Crazy Cars photo courtesy of Show-connection.com

Playing peeping tom before the monster truck rally

We’ve been a bit less ambitious the last couple of days. It’s hot and humid—in the mornings we move faster but slow down as the day wears on. We’re spending a lot of time at the pool—B is swimming like a fish and S has suddenly learned how to dive and tread water!

Despite our snail’s pace we’ve still had some very memorable moments. We ate an excellent dinner at a local marina on Wednesday. The whole restaurant is outside, with just a roof overhead. There was a bonfire in the middle with a kettle of corn boiling and live music sung by a honey-voiced singer who somehow successfully blended Schlager music with “Last Night a DJ Saved My Life”!

I am addicted to Fuži—had it this time in a truffle sauce and count this meal among the best I’ve ever had.

Yesterday morning we got up early and took a hike before it got too warm. We left the campground and followed several trails through orchards and vineyards. About 2,5 km into it we realized that we were lost—came around a bend and suddenly we could see the sea stretching out in front of us in a long glistening ribbon. AHA! The sun is there, the sea is there—the campground should be over here to the left! What a relief! We followed the fence and were looking for the gate when suddenly S whispered:

“HEY Mom! They’re NAKED!”

Yep. After all my jokes and smartass comments we’d finally arrived at the noodle camp. I was all for popping in for a cup of coffee but it got vetoed. It was starting to get very hot and the quickest way back to our camper was to walk along the perimeter of the camp, conspicuously clothed. And I was just waiting for security to nab us so that we could say:

“But we were lost! Yeah, that's it! We just happened to stumble upon this place on the way back to our campsite!”

This morning a neighbor came over with a plastic tub: “Would your boys like a pet?” Inside he had a praying mantis. Those things are enormous! It had a face like an alien and swiveled its head back and forth, alert and watchful. Almost licking its lips and planning which of us it was going to behead first. (Supposedly they only do that to their partners after a mating ritual but I wasn’t about to take any chances!)

A new family has just arrived with a Hungarian Vizsla. I’m completely obsessed with these dogs. They’re muscular, with narrow pointed heads and tawny coats. This one has yellow-green eyes and looks otherworldly. I’ve been lobbying M for one—preferably the one two trailers down. All day long I’ve been fantasizing about spiriting him away on the morning that we leave. If the police contact any of you at some point YOU! KNOW! NOTHING!

This afternoon we visited the Jama Baredine, which are caverns just outside Poreč. There are stairways built down 60+ meters deep and we saw an interesting array of stalactites, stalagmites and other bizarre rock formations. It reminded me a lot of other caverns we’ve visited but this one had a bonus—a limpid white eyeless salamander that slithered around in a shallow pool at the bottom of the steps. It was repulsive and fascinating.

Tomorrow we’ll be going to some sort of monster truck rally in Poreč. I feel like I’ve come full circle—Florida girl goes back to her roots and shows her Southern pride in the grandstands. Time to dig out my Daisy Mae shorts and do my hair up in pigtails. I just hope they’re well stocked with corn dogs and Pabst Blue Ribbon…