1, 2, 3, 4 … I declare ski war

I’m not saying I take pleasure in my husband’s failures, no, no, I’m not saying that at all. But I can’t help it if a sinister laugh comes out of my mouth when he attempts to ice skate, clutching onto the wall as I saunter past him ... backwards.

See, despite his girlish sensitivity and affinity for nail polish, Jeremy is a man’s man. Every sport he tries, he triumphs. And frankly, he’s better than me at almost all of them. My secret snickers don’t come from being competitive; I’m quite indifferent when it comes to most competition – but it is nice to have something I can reign over. And last weekend, when Jeremy temporarily traded his snowboard for skis, I found it.

Below is a short video of Jeremy’s humorous shortcomings in his second-ever attempt at skiing. 

And yes, someday he’ll probably be a better skier than me, but for now, me and my sinister laugh will watch this gem over and over again.

Weiberfasching: where ladies are king

Although we’re still struggling with the language after living in Germany for two years, we are a quick study on cultural celebrations.

Last year we got our feet wet for Amberg’s Weiberfasching; this year we dove right in.

For Weiberfasching (ladies' day during carnival), which usually occurs the Thursday before Fasching, women rule. Women cut men’s ties and are allowed to kiss any man that passes them (although the latter seems like something cooked up as “tradition” by the menfolk).

This year our friend Andreas scored much-sought-after tickets to a Weiberfasching party in Amberg and it was on. Tons of men donned too-tight skirts and wobbled on high heels while women put on their best Tom Selleck.

DJs forsook their usual techno and rocked old school beats, which kept the dance floor packed. We even heard a Deutsch version of Sir Mix-a-Lot’s “Jump on it,” a crowd pleaser in any language.

If you can’t make it to Germany for Weiberfascing, here’s the recipe – take one part Mardi Gras, add another part Halloween, and sprinkle in some of San Francisco’s Castro District and viola! 

Delicious every time. 

Sella Ronda: Better hide your mama

I had another one of those mornings this past Monday. The kind where you have so much fun the night before you wake up thinking that maybe you inappropriately propositioned the chambermaid – or perhaps damaged the décor of the guesthouse you were staying in.

After a quick look around (and eye contact with said chambermaid that revealed nothing) I passed if off as just another crazy fun-filled evening with the Bavarian Ski Club.

This was our third trip with the club, second this year, and they never disappoint. 69 skiers, snowboarders and snow bunnies boarded a double-decker bus and headed for the border. Ending late Friday night in Italy (Dolomites), we geared up to ski the Kronplatz on Saturday and the Sella Ronda on Sunday. 

Jeremy continues to shred on his snowboard each trip, while I slowly move from drunken baby on skis to semi-professional. We’ve had to hit it hard this year, quickly, as our usually warm-up Bavarian bunny hills are still green and snowless. The Alps, however, continue to quell our downhill desires. 

On Monday, we headed back to the Kronplatz where half the group braved the elements again the other half nursed aching bones and headaches. We decided to toboggan – which I believe is actually more dangerous that skiing, but just as much fun. Hairpin turns at 50 kilometers per hour with no steering and Fred Flintstone-style brakes. Yeah, I got this.

Our gypsy feet are slightly frostbitten after this last trip, but we head to London on Friday, where we will replace the snow for rain. The good times, however, will remain.

Magnificent Malta

We had such a great first night in Malta – meeting up with friends of a friend (Valerie and Adrian), their friend (Mario) and a fellow traveler, coincidently visiting from Germany. They took us to a local, off-the-beaten-path establishment where the conversation flowed as effortlessly as the wine. We returned to our hotel fat and happy and thinking the rest of our holiday would be hard to live up to this inception – instead, it set the bar to what has proven to be an awesome week, and it’s not over yet.

Today we’re taking a break from our vacation as the wind is blowing fiercely outside (not the best condition for cliff hikes), but we have been blessed with spectacular weather and even more spectacular sights.

Malta is a tiny island in the middle of the Mediterranean sandwiched between Italy, Tunisia and Libya, with visible influence from each. The language sounds like a mix between Arabic and Italian (heavy on the Italian). Its last conquerors, however, were British, so everyone speaks English, and for being such a small island, it packs a big punch.

Our first full day here we took the 20-minute ferry to Malta’s sister island of Gozo - an even smaller island measuring at around 25 square miles.

Hiking to the Dwejra (Azure Window) provided the most breathtaking of views. 

 We explored a few small towns …

and relaxed on the red-sand beaches of Gozo’s east coast at Ramla Bay.

Wednesday we experienced Malta’s city life at the center of Valetta. Shops, bars, restaurants and more shops. 

From there, we traveled to the southern coast to the fishing harbor of Marsaxlokk. It’s picture perfect with brightly colored fishing boats lining the shore and numerous family-friendly restaurants offering the catch of the day. Yum.

Thursday we explored Golden Bay, said to be the most beautiful sandy beach on the island. (Most of the beaches here are rocky, so sand is a luxury.) 

The water is currently too cold to swim, but the benefit of the winter months is the production of waves in the usually calm bay. A handful of surfers and stand up paddlers took advantage of this. We opted for a cliff hike to Ghajn Tuffieha Bay. (photo at top)

Working up an appetite, Jeremy managed to polish off the biggest burger I’ve ever seen. 

(As an aside, it may seem odd to travel to Malta and eat a burger, but we live in Germany. As talented as they are in preparing pork a hundred different ways, they don’t do beef as well. We haven’t had a decent burger in two years. We were due.)

Getting around has been rather easy - we have expertly navigated the Malta bus system and already feel we seamlessly slipped back into “island life.” There is an island mentality no matter where you are - the culture as a whole seems to slip back a millisecond in time to soak in the present. 

We have already stopped time, sat back and soaked it in ourselves – as well as predicting what the next few days will bring.

Gearing up for 2012

As we bundle up and prepare for 2012, we're so thankful for our family, friends and each other. 

2011, which began as one big headache in Neu Ulm, grew into a surprisingly eventful and epic year. We played less music but traveled more; we worked a lot harder but learned more; and we lived and loved more. 

Below are our top 5 moments for 2011:

1. Return to Oahu/Kalalau Trail

2. Women’s World Cup roadtrip, including a six-city blitz punctuated by U.S. vs. Brazil win in Dresden

3. Czech roadtrip

4. Lisbon

5. Amsterdam bikesgiving

Honorable mention: a local trip to several of Munich’s biergartens, which will undoubtedly become a tradition. Our only regret was not starting earlier.

And before we depart to ring in the new year, we’ll leave you with a quote, courtesy of our friend Tyler in St. Louis, from last year:

“May your coming year be filled 

with magic and dreams and good madness.

I hope you read some fine books 

and kiss someone who thinks you’re wonderful,

and don’t forget to make some art — 

write or draw or build or sing or live as only you can.

And I hope, somewhere in the next year, 

you surprise yourself."

                                                                   —  Neil Gaiman   

(Neil forgot to add: And may our paths cross at least once in 2012.)

Stone cold Christmas

... and Teddy. 

Après Skisnutz

Jeremy and I went skiing recently in another trip with the Bavarian Ski Club, this time to Obergurgl-Hochgurgl in Austria. And like our last trip – it was awesome.

I’ll spare you details of the beautiful scenery and my epic superman stunt (the bruises are lingering) and instead share the beauty that is après ski. (French for “after ski.”)

We often discuss how the ski culture here is far superior than that of its U.S. counterpart – we have the Alps, beat that – but beyond opening gigantic mountains for an “enter at your own risk” ski experience, every mountain, bunny slope and hill is equipped with a bar perched in the beauty of the snow-capped eminence.

 

In all of your slope attire, you ski up to the bar, (it’s a lot like moseying up to the bar, especially in ski / snowboard boots) order a drink, sit outside in the sun and enjoy the best-tasting beer you will ever have. Sausage (product) optional. 

A traditional day on the slopes goes something like this: take the gondola up, ski down, take a chair lift up, have a beer, ski down, gondola or chair lift to a different hill, beer, ski, repeat. By the end of the day, no mountain is left unskied and no high-altitude beer left undrank. (undrunk?)

Which brings us to the après ski – what some claim to be the best part of skiing. 

Around 4 p.m., when most of the lifts close – everyone convenes at a designated bar on top of the mountain for a dancing on the tables, singing, and jumping around (as best as one can in ski boots) party. It’s like Oktoberfest minus the lederhosen.

Below is a short video of some of the action – taken during a spring session in Stubai, Austria, in April.

After a few hours at the après ski party, you ski down the mountain … very, very carefully.