Just me & my frau

Today, we celebrate our 4th anniversary. I want to thank everyone, our friends and extended family, for helping to make our lives so full, but especially my sweet, sweet frau, my dear one, Molly.

And though we're more than 2,000 kilometers apart, I'm sending out a long distance dedication that I know will reach you soon. Save some of that Turkish hot-air balloon romance for me!

Too big for my ski britches

This will soon prove to be a poor decision. 

In the photo above I’m standing at the top of the Harakiri ski piste in Mayrhofen, Austria. This happens to be the steepest piste in the country at 78% (38º), and highly debated as the steepest in all of Europe, which is why, of course, the sign reads “Only for good Skiers.” To explain why I attempted such a daring act, I must go back a few months.

During the infamous Siegi Tours New Year’s Eve party, I won a free one-day private lesson with Michi - a bonafide member of the Siegi clan. Being a mediocre skier at best (and generally the anchor), this was a much-welcomed gift.

Fast forward to the 3^rd week in February: Jeremy and I headed to Austria to cash in my winning prize. There was a clear difference in my skiing from beginning to end. Four hours later, I was skiing with ease and confidence. If you’re interested, you can find a video of that awesome day here. http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?v=535155859862455

Ever since this time, however, I’ve grown rather big for britches. I now race down blue and red and black hills with far too much confidence. Attempting to conquer theHarakiki was a passing thought. I can handle black runs! No problem!

Little did she know ...

It started out okay; icy and steep but I took a few solid turns before epically biffing it.

I didn’t so much as fall but rather perform a150-meter tuck and roll. I ingested about 2 liters of snow while flying down on my stomach. I flipped over, and over, and around, and over.

It was a full-on yard sale (that’s skier speak for losing gear and articles of clothing while tumbling downhill) and I was a human pinwheel.

After what seemed like a painful eternity, the mountain tapered off. I looked upward to see a lanky Austrian stealthily skiing down the same hill, effortlessly picking up the pieces of my broken attempt without breaking stride. He stopped short of my crumbling body still lying in the snow and gently placed my ski and poles down before whisking off like some kind of biff angel.

At this point I could do nothing but laugh, which Bianca and Eric (two friends who witnessed it all) took as a good sign. I dusted snow out of every place imaginable, (yes, every place imaginable) and we three wondered how I managed to escape without serious injury. It apparently looked as bad as it felt.

The rest of the day, my confidence was shot. I got back up on that snowy horse, but I didn’t attempt any more death-defying feats. I’m not really one of those “no pain, no gain” girls. I think skiing is way more fun without tumbling face first down a run.

Today, I feel like I, well, fell down a mountain at record-breaking speeds. And as I nurse myself back to health, I realized that my body isn’t the only thing that got bruised.

Skifahren Xtravaganza turns 3

The crew, sans Dan & Kat, who were off on a wild beacon chase.

They came from far-off places like San Francisco, Geneva, Paris and Munich for one weekend, one reason: women’s semi-professional arm wrestling.

Oh, and there was skiing, too.

Three years ago the buddymollys hijacked Tom Roderick’s annual business-turned-ski trip in Basel, and the tradition has continued to flourish.

This year, the group, now 15 strong, headed to Kitzbuhel, Austria, where they found reasonably priced lodging in otherwise not-even-close-to-our-budget town.

The hostel owner, Dave, a Kiwi who also served in the British army, kept everyone engaged with his stories and extensive MTV real world style camera bank (if you've ever stayed at Snowbunny's or had an incident outside, there's probably footage somewhere). The second night he invited us to join his massive barbecue, replete with steaks, garlic-infused pork belly burgers and the best straight from the bottle glühwein ever.

When they weren’t barreling down the slopes, the group holed up in the hostel’s basement for their own après ski gatherings to rekindle old friendships over home-cooked food, Austrian beer and monumental games of Catchphrase.

Let’s just say “Circumference of the Earth” almost caused a brawl.

Is Skifahren IV in the cards, and if so, where will it be held? Like the lost footage of the infamous arm wrestling bout, that remains to be seen.

Behavior modification project X-46/13

This is what a real experiment looks like. You need at least one microscope, several test tubes, and three colored liquids. I think I only have 2 colored liquids.

We’ve all tried them, with varying degrees of success, but each year we swear, "This year is going to be different."

Some people call them resolutions, but as an amateur social scientist, I prefer to call them personal behavior modification projects. 

Taking a page from my friend Eileen Dunne’s playbook, rather than establishing resolutions, which can be broad, undefined and difficult to maintain throughout the year, I’ve decided to try mini-resolutions (ahem, modification projects) throughout the year, with the overall goal of living a more healthy, productive, full life.

Each month I’ll either focus on a “without” (removing something from my life that I enjoy but might not be the best for me), or a “with” (adding something healthy). And while I’ll continue to be conscious of the measures I’ve completed in subsequent months, the focus for that month will be … well, my focus.

I started off strong in January by removing resolutions from my life. So far so good.

This month I’m going without alcohol. I was doing great, except for an inadvertent slip-up this past weekend (in my defense, it was a tapas place and instead of wine, I ordered something called “coffee for men.” The menu didn’t make any mention that café cajillo was pretty much a shot of rum and a drop of coffee). 

I definitely wasn’t going to send it back, so i swallowed the now-tarnished mini-resolution with my pride (it was delicious).

Moving forward, here’s a breakdown of what I have for the rest of the year: 

Withouts: caffeine, meat, no TV/computer (at home), bäckerei

Withs: exercise (5 times/week), water (3 liters a day); making art (2-3 times/week)

I'll try to pair them with the months that make the most sense. For example, I’ll probably choose “not using the computer at home” when I don’t have any major trips to plan or anything that requires a lot of email coordination; or move the no caffeine to a warmer month.

Though it may seem silly, if you’ve ever lived in Germany, you know removing the bäckerei from your life for a month is no laughing matter.

You may have also noticed I’m a little short on ideas for the remaining 10 months in 2013, so I’m looking for a little help from our readers. (Molly hasn't started her modification project yet; it's been at least a month since she's brushed her hair but that's not a modification;).

So if you provide suggestions, I'll pick the best modification recommendations (and provide attribution, of course), and then assign them to specific months. If I receive enough good ideas, I might even replace some of my current picks ... so let the best ideas ... modify. 

Bill Murray likes our dog

My two-week stint in an intensive German language class in Dresden has come to end. In celebration, Jeremy and Sky came to rescue me and we took a family trip to the outskirts of town for a snowy hike in the Sächsische Schweiz National Park. 

In the middle of the park, high above the Elbe River, we noticed a film crew near the Bastei Bridge and wandered over to check out the scene. A sharp dressed mustachioed man walked by us and said, “You have a beautiful dog.”

It was Bill Murray. Bill. Fucking. Murray.

Jeremy and I excitedly jumped up and down screeching, “Bill Murray likes our dog! Bill Murray likes our dog!”

We noticed Bill Murray walking off by himself to take photos of the scenery, so we did what any non-creepy fans would do – we followed him. Oddly we were the only ones who recognized him, or seemed to care. We could stalk him all by ourselves!

We were a bit shy about approaching him until we noticed a stray dollar bill on the ground– the perfect conversation starter. Jeremy scooped it up and said “Excuse me, Mr. Murray, did you drop a dollar?”

“I think I did, thank you,” replied Bill Murray stuffing the dollar into his pocket.

“Where are from?” he asked.

(Bill Murray wants to know where we’re from! Bill Murray wants to know where we’re from!)

We told him we were Americans living here in Germany and he commented again on how much he liked our dog.

(Bill Murray likes our dog! Bill Murray likes our dog!)

We proceeded to have a conversation with Bill Murray. He told us he was in Görlitz a few days ago and had just finished up his work in Dresden. He was on his way to Berlin for another job.

“Would you mind if we took a photo with you?” Jeremy asked, his voice cracking like a prepubescent teenager.

“I wouldn’t mind at all,” said Bill Murray, with his characteristic melancholy demeanor.

While I’ve already forgotten most of the German I learned during the course, I won’t soon forget the star-struck finale of the trip to Dresden.   

(And Bill Murray likes our dog).

Singing in the new year

Harmonizing with John Denver on New Year's Eve in St. Viet.

(Ok, so it's almost February and we're just putting pen to paper for the first blog of the new year ... so much for those resolutions.)

2012 came and went with a bang. We spent the last few weeks of the old, and first week of the new, in St. Viet, Austria, with about a dozen of our best Bavarian Ski Club buds.

After five straight days of skiing (plus lessons), we knew all the secret powder spots on the mountain and where to go for the best lunchtime grub (the bacon, fried egg and potatoes on top of a huge donut was such a hit that we made a special trip across the mountain on New Year's Day to start the year out right).

Hallstatt, Austria

On the way home, we spent a few days in Hallstatt, Austria, which though absolutely picturesque and idyllic, left a little to be desired (the salt mine, which is what the town is most famous for, was closed, and impressive ice caves? closed in the winter, too; I guess even icicles  need a vacation.)

Apparently, the town was so popular with some tourists that a company in China built an exact replica in Huizhou -- it was big news on the BBC.

We finished the last weekend of vacation with a soothing trip to a beer spa in the Czech Republic -- more on that in a separate report.

Looking back on 2012, we found that we covered a lot of ground. And although it was tough to pick a favorite experience or trip, a few definitely stood out. Below are the top five buddymollys moments from 2012:

1. Family reunion in Gatlinburg, Tenn.
2. Skifahren Xtravaganza II in St. Anton, Austria
3. Scotland / Dublin
4. Greek Stimulus Trip
5. Funf Fluss Radweg - a 50-mile bike ride along five rivers in Bavaria.

Others major outings included: Malta; Sella Rhonda, Italy; London; Venice, Italy; Istanbul; Berlin; Dresden; Croatia & Slovenia along with Bosnia and Herzegovina; and Hochgurlg-Obergurgl, Austria.

So far, 2013 is shaping up to be just as busy as last year. We're looking forward to heading back to Hawaii, hosting family and friends, and continuing to explore our backyard here in Bavaria. And if the first few weeks of 2013 are any indication, we'll be spending a lot of this year in ski gear.

Happy New Year!

Ain't nothin' but an après ski party

Eric Davis Photo stolen from Facebook. Thanks!

Last weekend Jeremy and I hit the slopes at Obergurgl-Hochgurgl, Austria, with the Bavarian Ski Club to kick off the ski season. As I began my third official year as a bona fide skier, I’m happy to report only one major fall and a few hidden bruises – although they didn’t come from the slopes exactly.

See – this particular ski range is home to the best après ski known to man. Perched on the mountain above the town of Obergurgl is the Nederhütte. After a hard day of punching through blizzard-like conditions, moguls and thrashing down runs, everyone gathers at the hut for a few celebratory drinks and a massive dance party. Glühwein warms the frostbitten toes of snowboarders, skiers and instructors as they pack in shoulder-to-shoulder around the bar.

The live band plays sing-along songs and encourages party-goes to climb on tables and do the twist. It really revolutionizes dancing in ski boots. Waiters deliver groups of shots carried on 4-foot long wooden ski-shaped slats and (eventually and inevitably) everyone joins in for a screaming-at-the-top-of-your-lungs version of Country Roads. Somewhere John Denver is smiling.

The party starts to die down around 7 p.m. (although it feels like midnight as you walk outside to pitch black skies and a run lit with soft floodlights). It was this time, the time when I attempted to put on my right ski, that I took a tumble and roll. Hence the bruise.

Eric Davis Photo stolen from Facebook. Thanks!

But it was only a momentary setback.

Once my skies were fully in place and strapped on, we began our caravan down the hill for a quick nighttime ski adventure. The expedition continued with the most frightening taxi ride back to our hotel. Austrian cab drivers in this area have no fear racing up the icy mountain roads – speeding into hairpin turns, egged on by the 10 intoxicated passengers in the van.

Every time I go skiing in Europe – from the lack of fences on the mountains to dancing on tables at the après ski to encouraging off-piste runs – I think, no way this would be allowed in the States.

Europe simply has the unwritten “don’t be stupid” rule. They are far from the culture of suing someone because you made the poor decision to put a hot cup of coffee between your thighs. They encourage freedom – and while stupid decisions are sometimes made, there is a certain amount of accountability held to those making the decisions.

I say this as I nurse my bruised outer thigh. Because that was all me.