Lap 34

This weekend I stepped out of my Larry Bird year into a my Charles Barkley / Hakeem Olajuwon (but definitely not Rick Barry) year (I turned 34, if you're not NBA-inclined). 

Molly and I woke up early and sprinted through the Weiden flomarkt (flea market) looking for last-minute steals before hopping on a train west to Wurzburg, which is known for its Baroque architecture and the vineyards that drape the hills on either side of the Main River. 

We had originally intended to use the Bayern Rail Pass (5 people can travel all day, anywhere in Bavaria, for 28 euros) in the same way Jay Dietrich, Dwig Lovejoy and I did in San Francisco circa 2003 -- randomly jumping on and off at various stops and seeing where the day / dice took us. However, after it took us three hours to get to our initial destination, we decided to postpone Muni-meets-Deutsche Bahn for another weekend. 

Wurzburg is very walkable so we mainly cruised the cobblestone streets and stumbled into the occasional weinstube (wine bar) for a break from the German bier norm. As we were stumbling, we stumbled further into something called "federweisen" (the spring whites), which is a super sweet, delicious, cloudy white wine -- mmm. Oh, that, and a waitress who told us frankly, "Das ist nicht fur Sie" (that is not for you) when we tried to order something from the menu that was obviously out of our league. 

Other than Molly absolutely murdering me in backgammon to and from Wurzburg (something was obviously wrong with the dice:), it was a chill weekend, with no real plans and no stress. 

I'm not one to brag, but I did receive two very special gifts -- a hop plant (which will hopefully be in our first beer we brew here) from our friend and co-worker Franz, and a personalized song from Molly that is destined to replace the standard birthday tune. Here's the original version (patents pending): 

Have genes, will travel

Guest Blogger Linda Basnett, also known as Molly’s mom, shares her experiences with the buddymollys, both past and present, during a recent European holiday.

 I remember the day a toothless little girl looked up at me and proclaimed, “Mommy, I am always going to live with you.”

A few years later she announced “When I get big I am going to live in Chicago.” She asked if I would move there with her. This should have been my first inkling of her vagabond gene.

Coming from a close knit family where no one moves more than five to 10 miles from their birthplace, I was skeptical of her late teen move to St. Louis. She was artsy and St. Louis fostered her creative side. She needed to be in the middle of it all.  

I tried to understand her artwork beyond my pencil-drawn stick people. The family supported her gallery shows, although I am sure we were quite obviously slanting, eyebrows crossed, as we tried to understand the object or photo on display.

Her creative side emerged in high school and college showed us an amazing photographer. 

I was both amazed and jealous of her gutsy travels to pursue her passion – backpacking to Barcelona, and photo shoots in London and New York.

In 2006, Molly announced she was moving to Hawaii to work for a fellow photographer. I didn’t think of the distance, my “motherly mind” immediately registered a full time job with benefits - a first for my daughter.

In 2009, I received a call that she was getting married. Meeting my future son-in-law at the airport in Hawaii put my mind at ease. He was a “male Molly” and had the same thirst for travel and life.

It is now 2010 and I am in Germany visiting the two vagabonds. We spent a weekend in Poland, followed by a weekend in Austria - with German explorations in-between. My travels have now expanded past the U.S. borders.

Our two amazing tour guides have shown us the most beautiful countryside. I look around in awe of the culture and history, the universal smile as you greet someone – so much to soak up. 

 

My daughter has opened up a new world of travel for me and I'm happy to say this time I don't have to slant to understand it all, and I may even have my own vagabond gene emerging. 

Naked people and cuckoo clocks

For Labor Day weekend Jeremy and I set our sights on being pampered ... and a lot less clothed in this chilly weather. Three hours later, after dodging a near death experience with an impatient bus driver on the autobahn, we arrived in Baden Baden, Germany - hidden in the plush Black Forest.

Baden Baden literally translates to Bath Bath and the natural hot springs have been around since at least the Roman Empire. They later became a social center for 19th century European nobility. Now it mostly caters to slightly aging German tourists ... and us. 

After perusing the town for a few hours we visited the Friedrichsbad for a ritualistic cleansing known as the Roman-Irish Bath.

The harmonious bathing sequence (a 16-step ritual) is said to regenerate mind, body and soul.

The changing temperatures and varying baths, with their thermally generated, mineral-rich waters, scented saunas and the infamous soap & brush massage on a marble slab table given by a calm German lady with a rough hand (my back looks like I got into a cat fight, but it was totally worth it) adds to the overall experience. Oh and you're buck nekkid the entire time.

This is somewhat new to the prude nature of Americans, but sitting in a whirlpool between an 80-year-old man and prepubescent teenager is anything but strange here.

When your fingers start to prune and you feel squeaky clean, you are led into a quiet room where you lay on a table as attendants wrap you in a cocoon of blankets to slip off into prenatal unconsciousness. After 30 minutes you emerge as a naked human-butterfly person and bask in the glory of your total relaxation metamorphosis.

We did this - twice.

But a trip to the Black Forest is not complete without visiting a cuckoo clock museum, as this is what the region is also famous for, so on day three we pulled ourselves out of unconsciousness and took a scenic drive through the forest.

The clocks were elaborate and amazing and we had a grand time setting them all to midnight and dancing along with the figurines to the music - that was until we spotted the sign that said "Do not touch."

I also managed to snap the photo below before seeing the sign that said "No Photographs."

Oops.

The trip to Black Forest reset our internal clocks and we bathed in our new "textilfrei" experience.

Catching the Gerburstag bug

Catch up time and I’m striking while the pen is still wet. Last night we celebrated the birthday of our friend Todd “Tad” Trivisonno (above) at our favorite local joint the Bayrish-Irish, which is a little bit of Bavaria, a little bit of Ireland, and somehow just feels like home.

Tad and Jeb (aka Jeff Carson) showed up fresh from the trachten outlet and their new outfits just might have earned them enough points to audition for the buddymollys. 

And speaking of Ireland, our most recent trip back to the motherland had us criss-crossing through the past and making loads of new memories as well. Molly had never been to Ireland, and I had never been to London, so we each planned the legs we knew best. 

Besides the great “craic,” fish & chips and music (to include some traditional sessions in which we participated and the Cambridge Folk Festival), incredible hiking and scenery in Northern Ireland and cruising London’s posh streets, I’d say the highlight of the 10-day trip was an unexpected surf session in Portrush. Even though it was our first time in wetsuits, we totally shredded Ireland’s north shore. 

In fact, I think we’re officially ready for the Bavarian surf scene – but that’s a story for another blog (in a few days).

2 illegitimate 2 quit

Like the surf I thought we had left behind in Hawaii, apparently I left some unfinished business when I left Dublin more than a decade ago.

Right before I flew out in 1998 I withdrew everything from my student checking account, or so I thought. There must have been less than an Irish pound in there. Every once in a while over the years I’d get a bank statement at my mom’s house, but I figured they’d eventually just close the account due to inactivity.

So during this trip we stopped into a local Bank of Ireland branch to see if we could finally close the account. (For the record, my mom wanted me to keep it because she thought it was cool to have an international bank account.)

My little neglected student account blossomed through the boom and recession and grown to a whopping 16 euros. Unfortunately, the teller said I had to show up in person at the branch where I opened the account (at the University College Dublin campus, about a 15-20 min. bus ride) to officially close it. Short on time and with more important things to do, we headed to the pub and eventually to the North that day.

I guess closing the account is something I won’t be able to 'bank' on anytime soon. (no service charge for puns on student accounts.)

Back (B)log

It’s been a while since words have graced the pages of the buddymollys blog. With no excuses really, two-thirds of our family are writers. (Sky’s lack of opposable thumbs makes it quite difficult for her, although she is very articulate.)

To catch you up, Jeremy and I returned home from an epic journey to Dublin, Northern Ireland and London, ending in Cambridge for a Folk Festival a few short weeks ago. Details of said trip to come in a later entry … (next one, promise!)

Upon our arrival back to Deutschland, we were devastated to find that summer had disappeared. (Damn it! And may I add, really?! It’s August! I should not be wearing a bomber jacket!)

A week later, I traveled to my hometown, St. Louis, where summer was still in full effect. (It was knock-the-wind-outta-you hot and I couldn’t be happier. Bomber jacket momentarily tossed aside.)

I feel like I’ve been on the move for the past month, mainly because I have. But in that time I’ve been blessed with music, culture, family time, a few waves, friends – new and old, and that tingle in your tummy that only comes from travel.

There is something very comforting in waking up, squinting and searching your brain to figure out what country you are in.

Then again, sometimes we travel to our own world, unrecognizable to even us.

Life is that good ... 

Ten things we love about Germany, most involving beer.

1.     Beer! Rather, bier. The Bavarian Purity Law is a beautiful thing.

2.     Notable places beer is served. These places include, but are not limited to, ice cream parlors, coffee shops and little kids' soccer games.

3.     Windows/doors. This is simply brilliant. You can open the window fully or turn them the opposite way to open slightly from the top. (see photo). Many doors also function this way.

4.     Refrigerators. Also brilliant. They are usually built into the kitchen to look like cabinets. When someone enters your kitchen for the first time, it's a scavenger hunt opening random doors to find a cold beer.

5.     Walking/biking paths. They are everywhere and part of  German law. No longer do I fear for my life on a bicycle like I did in Hawaii. The paths go from town to town, so you can easily get anywhere in Germany on a bike. You could even walk to the Czech Republic, time allowing of course.

6.     Big ass bunnies. Okay, so technically they are hares, but what’s the difference, really. These big ass bunnies are alive and well in the German countryside and are freakishly large. They overpower Sky dog in size and look like joeys when they hop hop hop along. The best part - with big ass bunnies come big ass cottontails. Adorable. Big ass adorable.

7.     Old people. The old people here ride bikes everywhere and drink massive amounts of beer. I believe they have found the secret to longevity.

8.     Preservatives, or lack thereof. All restaurants must annotate any preservative added to any food item for each dish. Red dye number 4? It’s on the menu. Although most items served in our area are completely fresh and local, at the very least you are warned if it isn’t.

9.     Recycling. They recycle EVERYTHING! Old pizza boxes, the plastic off a toothbrush wrapper, the label off a juice bottle, bottles and cans and glass, oh my. I dare you to throw away an empty bag of chips. Make it a double-dog dare! I should also mention they are far superior to their American counterparts when it comes to compost piles.

10.   Traditional Bavarian clothing. There is nothing sexier than a woman in a dirndl and I have a thing for guys in handmade leather suspenders and tight lederhosen. I also enjoy the fact that you cannot enter certain beer tents at Oktoberfest without the aforementioned Bavarian attire.

Honorable mention: This comes from our friends to the south in the small town of Fucking (pronounced fook-ing), Austria, where a famous light-colored ale, (referred to as “pale” in American and “hell” in German) beer was born. So yes, here in Germany and a few neighboring countries, you can treat yourself to a nice cold glass of Fucking Hell. Enjoy!

Fußball, bocce & bier

The summer has finally arrived in Germany (shhhhh, don’t tell ol’ man winter), and to celebrate this momentous occasion, we thought we’d liven it up with a few haiku poems.

Those who don't have their poetry books close might still recall haikus usually follow a 5-7-5 syllable rhyme scheme. Yes, Shawn Date, I know the “on” doesn't exactly translate to “syllable” but let’s just pretend for summer’s sake (not the same as the Japanese drink, sake – woo! I’m on fire tonight!)

So, the first haiku I thought of was from a popular T-shirt, which reads: 

Haikus are easy

But sometimes they don’t make sense

Refrigerator

And here are some samples from Wikipedia: 

the first cold shower

even the monkey seems to want

a little coat of straw

how many gallons

of Edo's rain did you drink?

cuckoo

Man, that is so true.

Here are a few inspirational, summer-related haikus we wrote: 

Heat is good, me like

Meine frau, freund, hund  und bier

Let us play bocce

Tonight, got smoke on

Went home wit some‘ to poke on

Dr. Dre came by

 And since this is an international party, we’d be remiss if we didn’t include some submissions from our most avid buddymollys buddies (the official name of our fan club).

This little gem was submitted by everyone’s favorite war hero, Vice Chancellor Mikhail “Jorge” Green (VEEN) III, who happens to have not one, but two Navy and Marine Corps Commendation Medals:

Topics suck, Jerome

And so do you; but summer,

However, is cool

We’d love to hear your summer celebratory (not celebatory) haikus – the best ones might even get published …