Hochzeitstag haiku

© June 2008

On the occasion of our anniversary today, 

we celebrated with a little he-said she-said haiku*

*Sinbad sold separately.

Local man's weekend ruined

FELDKIRCH, Austria – Northern Maine native and mild mannered businessman Tom Roderick was caught unawares recently when 11 people hijacked what was shaping up to be an otherwise relaxing weekend in the Alps.

“You know, I was just hoping to kick back and rest before heading home to Chicago,” said Roderick.

Instead, he was accosted en masse by Megan and Todd “Tivisonno,” Todd’s sister Amy, Aunt Darcy and Mom Wendy – collectively known as the Nordic contingent; former Keenan Hall compadre JR Mellin; outdoor adventureman Jeb Carson; Gore-Tec reps Dustin & Holly; and the buddymollys.

Roderick was taking a sip of his vending machine beer when Jeb (who you may know from such restaurants as Jeb’s Cook Place and Jeb’s Mobile Cook Wagon) shoved a pair of ski pants into Roderick’s face and told him to get in the van.

“I was concerned for my safety at first, but then I guess I was just surprised he had my size,” Roderick said. “I mean, no one carries ‘husky’ anymore.”

The group brought Roderick to St. Anton and forced him to ski down slopes whose mogul-to-run ratio was off the charts.

After compelling him to ski until both knees blew out, the hijackers drove Roderick across the border to Liechtenstein where he was forced to endure a Saturday night in the capital of Vaduz.

(Insert cricket sounds here)

Roderick woke up alone the next morning with a distinct taste in his mouth but couldn't quite put his finger on it. 

“Has anyone seen a cat around here?” he said to his empty hostel room.

(Local Polizei are currently pursuing leads on the hijackers at the Montefon ski resort and in Bavaria).

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.)