I received a package in the mail yesterday morning and contained within its bubble wrap interior was my dearly beloved camera, the one I had lost two months prior. My family in Germany found it tucked inside the seatbelt buckle cavern and sent it to me stat. Once I overcame my extraordinary surprise, I uploaded every picture and video that was still safely stored within its memory. With this, I have created a film of our long lost footage of Brussels, Belgium!
(If you can not view the video, click here).
My best friend in Germany and I spent a weekend getting into every sort of adventure possible. We danced, we frolicked, we drank and we ate, and in the end, Belgium wouldn't have been the same without the other. Kate, my comrade, I miss you!
Showing posts with label kate. Show all posts
Showing posts with label kate. Show all posts
Friday, March 27, 2009
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Of saying goodbye and entering new places.
I looked outside of my aerial porthole and the blackness of an early morning atmosphere looked back. I had lost sight of the country a long time ago, but I knew it was beneath me in the way I know it is within me. Germany has immortalized itself within my heart. The last twelve hours had happened so fast and I cried so often in the seclusion of my room that it's impossible to remember how I got myself to move forward. Have I survived the long string of goodbyes?
When the kids came home the day before, I ran upstairs and cried when they hugged me hello. Everything stood still, except for my heart which was slowly breaking apart. At night before bed, I hugged them goodbye trying not to look at their smiling faces. They didn't understand that I was leaving for good and it was that innocence that tore me apart. Like a dog, I ran away to my empty room and curled up in ball, nursing my wounds by letting out tears.
Saying goodbye to Hong was much more emotional. How do you part with the person who personifies your strength, your courage, your endurance and faith? My backbone, my fortune cookie, my mother figure, my foundation, it's been the one loss that I can't bear to relive.
The Dad hugged me goodbye and left me with three suggestions: "Practice, practice, practice."
It should have been harder to say goodbye to Kate - the very best friend I could have made abroad - but 2am wake up calls deter the heart from mourning. Instead, like the amazing person she is, she packed me a banana and a homemade muffin, hailed me a taxi and hugged me a hug that didn't feel like the last. We would meet again, and that was the only thing that made letting go of her possible.
Being a Western girl, I naturally packed half of what I owned when relocating to Germany. Being a Western girl, I naturally spent half of what I earned on clothes. The consequence of this is having to kart around three 50-pound suitcases and one large purse all by myself through empty train stations, bus stops and airports. I may be tiny, but I was determined to have every single skirt and panty by my side when I arrived in Italy. Unfortunately, the price of this is equal to 7€ per every kilo over the 23 kilo (50 lbs) limit. I ended up paying 182€ for the luxury of every skirt and panty, teaching me the hard lesson that Western mentality is an expensive one.
The upside to being robbed by the airlines is that my excess baggage had earned me a new friend - a German fashion model named Julia who helped to drag my luggage off the train. Coincidentally, we also had the same early flight into Milan where she was scheduled for a photo shoot. Being three hours early for a 6:45am flight, we naturally stuck together and wandered around the airport, talked over coffee (twice), dealt with complications during check-in, created our own two-person cafe right before security (as we both suddenly realized we had unconsumed food and beverages aboard), got patted down and searched after setting off the metal detectors, and discussed zoos, male models and exboyfriends before boarding. The early morning trek, and parting with Germany in general, was made that much more bearable with the gift of sudden friendship.
Once in Italy, we waited for each other as we exited the plane and helped the other fish for luggage as it came around the conveyor belt. Together, we navigated the new terminal, acting as a pillow of security in a time of sudden newness. Before we parted, we hugged and kissed goodbye in that endearing European way before rushing off in opposite directions for buses that were heading towards opposite towns. I continue to hope that she and I will meet again, and in a world full of wanderers, I wouldn't be surprised if we did.
My bus seemed to be waiting just for me as we pulled out the minute I stepped in. Nestled near a window seat, I polished off my first book of February while the Italian countryside sped by. The weather was dismal, but it was nice to know that I was arriving past winters midpoint. Spring would push its way through in sooner time than it would take for winter to leave. True to form, it was the last cloudy day I have seen.
As we entered the city, I stared in longing at the lengthy, shuttered windows and the elaborate metal fencing that enclosed roman balconies. Green and white stripped awnings jutted out and draped in semi-circle fringes, flapping in the drizzle. I imagined a balcony garden on summer days. I imagined old friends paying homage to a traveling comrade. Cafes and pasta, wine and gorgeous nights out in Italy, a country of possibilities.
I hold on to the faith that it all has happened for a reason. I have survived my first week in Torino.
When the kids came home the day before, I ran upstairs and cried when they hugged me hello. Everything stood still, except for my heart which was slowly breaking apart. At night before bed, I hugged them goodbye trying not to look at their smiling faces. They didn't understand that I was leaving for good and it was that innocence that tore me apart. Like a dog, I ran away to my empty room and curled up in ball, nursing my wounds by letting out tears.
Saying goodbye to Hong was much more emotional. How do you part with the person who personifies your strength, your courage, your endurance and faith? My backbone, my fortune cookie, my mother figure, my foundation, it's been the one loss that I can't bear to relive.
The Dad hugged me goodbye and left me with three suggestions: "Practice, practice, practice."
It should have been harder to say goodbye to Kate - the very best friend I could have made abroad - but 2am wake up calls deter the heart from mourning. Instead, like the amazing person she is, she packed me a banana and a homemade muffin, hailed me a taxi and hugged me a hug that didn't feel like the last. We would meet again, and that was the only thing that made letting go of her possible.
Being a Western girl, I naturally packed half of what I owned when relocating to Germany. Being a Western girl, I naturally spent half of what I earned on clothes. The consequence of this is having to kart around three 50-pound suitcases and one large purse all by myself through empty train stations, bus stops and airports. I may be tiny, but I was determined to have every single skirt and panty by my side when I arrived in Italy. Unfortunately, the price of this is equal to 7€ per every kilo over the 23 kilo (50 lbs) limit. I ended up paying 182€ for the luxury of every skirt and panty, teaching me the hard lesson that Western mentality is an expensive one.
The upside to being robbed by the airlines is that my excess baggage had earned me a new friend - a German fashion model named Julia who helped to drag my luggage off the train. Coincidentally, we also had the same early flight into Milan where she was scheduled for a photo shoot. Being three hours early for a 6:45am flight, we naturally stuck together and wandered around the airport, talked over coffee (twice), dealt with complications during check-in, created our own two-person cafe right before security (as we both suddenly realized we had unconsumed food and beverages aboard), got patted down and searched after setting off the metal detectors, and discussed zoos, male models and exboyfriends before boarding. The early morning trek, and parting with Germany in general, was made that much more bearable with the gift of sudden friendship.
Once in Italy, we waited for each other as we exited the plane and helped the other fish for luggage as it came around the conveyor belt. Together, we navigated the new terminal, acting as a pillow of security in a time of sudden newness. Before we parted, we hugged and kissed goodbye in that endearing European way before rushing off in opposite directions for buses that were heading towards opposite towns. I continue to hope that she and I will meet again, and in a world full of wanderers, I wouldn't be surprised if we did.
My bus seemed to be waiting just for me as we pulled out the minute I stepped in. Nestled near a window seat, I polished off my first book of February while the Italian countryside sped by. The weather was dismal, but it was nice to know that I was arriving past winters midpoint. Spring would push its way through in sooner time than it would take for winter to leave. True to form, it was the last cloudy day I have seen.
As we entered the city, I stared in longing at the lengthy, shuttered windows and the elaborate metal fencing that enclosed roman balconies. Green and white stripped awnings jutted out and draped in semi-circle fringes, flapping in the drizzle. I imagined a balcony garden on summer days. I imagined old friends paying homage to a traveling comrade. Cafes and pasta, wine and gorgeous nights out in Italy, a country of possibilities.
I hold on to the faith that it all has happened for a reason. I have survived my first week in Torino.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Blond chicks suck and they're not sexy.
The weekend, oh, how I live for it. Every week it's me calling out for Kate, "Let's DO SOMETHING." That girl, she saves my life every time.
This weekend had to be spectacular, it had to be jam packed and tiring and wild, as there's nothing that nurses out a broken heart like good beer and an adventure. So, we started Saturday early, and headed to a Fortuna Soccer game. This is basically the disappointingly mediocre team out of Dusseldorf. It was cold and rowdy, and when the ref made a bad call or the other team scored a point, the crowd would throw their beer cups on the field and stick out their middle fingers.
The best part of the game were the beer guys (nerdy looking beer solicitors with a backpack full of beer on tap that can dispense you a cup whenever and wherever you want) and the guy who walked the isles with a basket full of bread and pastries. Hot dogs? At a stadium? Not in Germany. Now pass me the 9 grain loaf please, danke.
When our team ceremoniously tied, we left the field for greener pastures. We headed to the Christmas market where we imbibed Gluwein (once again, the traditional Christmastime beverage), and then moved on for some Alt Bier (once again, the beer traditional to the Dusseldorf area). Here, Kate and I sat with Cherub and Lazy Eye (I don't remember names when I have had alcohol to drink, so we'll just call it like it is) for a brief dinner. She and I abstained from food as we had a dinner date at a friends house, so we just had beer and watched them eat. This is where the night shifted.
For some reason, it is okay for strange old men to feed a young woman from their plate of food with their personal fork. "Here, try this." "No, thank you.... I said no thank you. What is your fork still doing in front of my face? Is this a cultural difference? Do I really have to, because I think it is gross and it also makes me uncomfortable to have your saliva in my mouth. What's your name again?" So, to settle the situation, I ate the portion that they spooned out for me and hoped only that it didn't happen again. But it did. Kate sat on the side the whole time, watching me get force fed other peoples sauerkraut while claiming to be a wegetarian (Germans switch their V's and W's around). Eventually, Cherub asked if I was extremely conservative or if I was just sarcastic.
"She's just sarcastic."
I chugged the rest of my beer so we could freely evacuate the bar. Before long, we were back at Kate's place, picking up essential dinner items: A pumpkin, a carrot and a food processor. Yes, she carried it around with her for the rest of the night.
Soon, we met up with Devlin, new friend #4! Fellow expat with an Irish passport, we all got along swimmingly as we made a mess of his kitchen. Pumpkin soup was in the making, and while they peeled carrots and boiled onions, I sat on the side sloshing wine in my mouth to kill other peoples bacteria. Drink, Nix, alcohol kills germs.
When our soup was digested, we headed out to the altstadt (old town) for more fun and excitement. Here, we met up with Sebastian and tried to look classier than we were. One round of Jäger, please, coming right up. Cheers to friendships abroad, and let me tell you why.
Conversation turned to holiday plans, who's going where and for how long etc. Devlin, Mr. Irishman here, mentions returning home to Ireland and my eyes light up. "You should come," he says, "round trip tickets are like 50 Euro." I'm heavily inebriated at this point, but I can still comprehend the value of a week in Ireland for 50 Euro. "I'll show you around, we'll do this we'll do that," and all I can process is Ireland for 50 Euro. I slide my little black book across the table and order him to give me his information. Email, phone number, social security number, whatever I need to track him down because I am going to Ireland for 50 Euro.
My entire holiday plans changed like that. I tossed Greece and the 200 Euro plane ticket that would get me there for a birthday in London, Christmas in Scotland, and new years in Ireland. Cheers to Friendships abroad.
If that wasn't the best part of the night, then this was; A video I do not remember taking, where my only friends abroad stood by my side and blond-bashed. (ps. if you can not see the video, you must go to the original page).
Highlights of the video: Kate's self righteous and overly positive, "to Nix!" Sebastian's, "Nix, don't ever get blond." And my extremely drunken slur depicting just how awesome I really am. Cheers to friendships abroad!
We ended the night as perfectly as possible. And though still woozy in the morning, I had a new spirit in my soul that always comes back when I watch that ridiculous video. Blond chicks suck and they're not sexy! I'm going to Ireland! I'M AWESOMEEEE!!!
This weekend had to be spectacular, it had to be jam packed and tiring and wild, as there's nothing that nurses out a broken heart like good beer and an adventure. So, we started Saturday early, and headed to a Fortuna Soccer game. This is basically the disappointingly mediocre team out of Dusseldorf. It was cold and rowdy, and when the ref made a bad call or the other team scored a point, the crowd would throw their beer cups on the field and stick out their middle fingers.
The best part of the game were the beer guys (nerdy looking beer solicitors with a backpack full of beer on tap that can dispense you a cup whenever and wherever you want) and the guy who walked the isles with a basket full of bread and pastries. Hot dogs? At a stadium? Not in Germany. Now pass me the 9 grain loaf please, danke.
When our team ceremoniously tied, we left the field for greener pastures. We headed to the Christmas market where we imbibed Gluwein (once again, the traditional Christmastime beverage), and then moved on for some Alt Bier (once again, the beer traditional to the Dusseldorf area). Here, Kate and I sat with Cherub and Lazy Eye (I don't remember names when I have had alcohol to drink, so we'll just call it like it is) for a brief dinner. She and I abstained from food as we had a dinner date at a friends house, so we just had beer and watched them eat. This is where the night shifted.For some reason, it is okay for strange old men to feed a young woman from their plate of food with their personal fork. "Here, try this." "No, thank you.... I said no thank you. What is your fork still doing in front of my face? Is this a cultural difference? Do I really have to, because I think it is gross and it also makes me uncomfortable to have your saliva in my mouth. What's your name again?" So, to settle the situation, I ate the portion that they spooned out for me and hoped only that it didn't happen again. But it did. Kate sat on the side the whole time, watching me get force fed other peoples sauerkraut while claiming to be a wegetarian (Germans switch their V's and W's around). Eventually, Cherub asked if I was extremely conservative or if I was just sarcastic.
"She's just sarcastic."
I chugged the rest of my beer so we could freely evacuate the bar. Before long, we were back at Kate's place, picking up essential dinner items: A pumpkin, a carrot and a food processor. Yes, she carried it around with her for the rest of the night.
Soon, we met up with Devlin, new friend #4! Fellow expat with an Irish passport, we all got along swimmingly as we made a mess of his kitchen. Pumpkin soup was in the making, and while they peeled carrots and boiled onions, I sat on the side sloshing wine in my mouth to kill other peoples bacteria. Drink, Nix, alcohol kills germs.
When our soup was digested, we headed out to the altstadt (old town) for more fun and excitement. Here, we met up with Sebastian and tried to look classier than we were. One round of Jäger, please, coming right up. Cheers to friendships abroad, and let me tell you why.Conversation turned to holiday plans, who's going where and for how long etc. Devlin, Mr. Irishman here, mentions returning home to Ireland and my eyes light up. "You should come," he says, "round trip tickets are like 50 Euro." I'm heavily inebriated at this point, but I can still comprehend the value of a week in Ireland for 50 Euro. "I'll show you around, we'll do this we'll do that," and all I can process is Ireland for 50 Euro. I slide my little black book across the table and order him to give me his information. Email, phone number, social security number, whatever I need to track him down because I am going to Ireland for 50 Euro.
My entire holiday plans changed like that. I tossed Greece and the 200 Euro plane ticket that would get me there for a birthday in London, Christmas in Scotland, and new years in Ireland. Cheers to Friendships abroad.
If that wasn't the best part of the night, then this was; A video I do not remember taking, where my only friends abroad stood by my side and blond-bashed. (ps. if you can not see the video, you must go to the original page).
We ended the night as perfectly as possible. And though still woozy in the morning, I had a new spirit in my soul that always comes back when I watch that ridiculous video. Blond chicks suck and they're not sexy! I'm going to Ireland! I'M AWESOMEEEE!!!
Sunday, November 23, 2008
When in Rome, party like a German!
This past Friday night was spent chillin' in Dusseldorf with Kate and Sebastian. Due to our absolute overload of picture taking on this night, we'll upgrade this baby into a one day photo diary.
We kicked off the night with glühwein, a Christmastime specialty wine here in Germany that is meant to be served hot. Although there are probably more classy ways to prepare and serve this traditional beverage, we made do with what we had, which was whatever a 26 year old college male has in his dorm room: cheap pots and plastic cups.
No matter, the wine did it's job and before long we were singing to Sebastian's guitar as he played songs by The Beatles.
Shortly after, Sebastian's BFF (best friend forever, for the uh, older readers) in Germany arrived. Meet Ivan, friend #3 from Ecuador.
After polishing off a bottle of wine and our secret stash of lime beer, we put on our heavy duty coats (the temperature has recently plummeted) and headed over to a little international party located in... the basement. Let it be known that it is legal to drink, smoke and party on university property. This is a very backwards concept compared to the strict regulations back home, but hey, when in Rome, party like a German!
No one actually informed us that this was a masquerade shindig, but we lived it up. Here is a very creepy German college student in a woman's blouse. Heck yes I was going to take a photo with him!
All in all, it was a good night. It's always nice for me to escape to the city, and Kate has been nice enough to offer me her apartment floor for whenever those times arise. (ps. Those are community pretzels. Under other non-inebriated circumstances, I would not have had them in my mouth).
We kicked off the night with glühwein, a Christmastime specialty wine here in Germany that is meant to be served hot. Although there are probably more classy ways to prepare and serve this traditional beverage, we made do with what we had, which was whatever a 26 year old college male has in his dorm room: cheap pots and plastic cups.
No matter, the wine did it's job and before long we were singing to Sebastian's guitar as he played songs by The Beatles.
Shortly after, Sebastian's BFF (best friend forever, for the uh, older readers) in Germany arrived. Meet Ivan, friend #3 from Ecuador.
After polishing off a bottle of wine and our secret stash of lime beer, we put on our heavy duty coats (the temperature has recently plummeted) and headed over to a little international party located in... the basement. Let it be known that it is legal to drink, smoke and party on university property. This is a very backwards concept compared to the strict regulations back home, but hey, when in Rome, party like a German!
No one actually informed us that this was a masquerade shindig, but we lived it up. Here is a very creepy German college student in a woman's blouse. Heck yes I was going to take a photo with him!
All in all, it was a good night. It's always nice for me to escape to the city, and Kate has been nice enough to offer me her apartment floor for whenever those times arise. (ps. Those are community pretzels. Under other non-inebriated circumstances, I would not have had them in my mouth).
Saturday, November 8, 2008
International Day
International Day is a special day put aside for my kids' international private school. Each grade transforms their area into another country full of fun facts, activities and crafts. Lunch was comprised of ethnic dishes that correspond to the countries that were represented. All the proceeds to the meals were donated to a school in Kenya, so eating was encouraged! (I had an amazing Ethiopian stew with a sourdough pancake, plus dessert from Turkey and tropical drinks from the Caribbean).
The Boys' grade transformed the classroom into a Kenyan safari. There was wild animal face painting, a Mancala game station, massive stuffed animals and zebras in every corner. Most importantly, it was in Kenya that I made my first friend in Germany.
Leave it to The Mom to shout introductions across a crowded room. "NICOLE!!! THAT'S KATE! KATE, THAT'S NICOLE!!" Bewildered, I scanned the class for some girl named Kate, assuming I needed to take her to the bathroom. It took a few minutes for true clarity to apparate (there are no spelling suggestions for that word, so does that mean I just quoted Harry Potter?) but after that we were gold.
This is indeed a momentous occasion. A friend, my age, finally, after three weeks in Germany. We did the whole exchanging numbers tidbit, which was a first for me and my new digits (I have recently been given a German simcard). We met again later in the Caribbean where the preschoolers threw a pirate party.
It was the most beautiful day since I've arrived and without the thought of a coat, I sat outside in my sundress and sweater. The massive sandbox was transformed into a treasure hunting spot full of shovels and chocolate coins. Some parent holding the chocolate money refused to give me one as the rules stated you had to find a voucher in the sand first. Rich people, I swear.
So fine, I grabbed a plastic shovel and jumped in that sandbox full of three year olds and dug a pit any pirate would have been proud of. Did I unearth anything? No. Was this not a game for toddlers? Some guy felt sorry for me and planted a coin to my right, which I immediately dug up and had to give to my kid. The game had potential, but man, that was too much work for very little/NO payoff. So, instead, my ingenuity took me to volunteer at the tattoo station where I freely stole chocolate coins when no one was looking. Take that, regulators of wealth.
Eventually it was just Kate and I immersed in talk of Germany and world travel. When we returned our watchful eye to the tattoos (which were actually a plethora of rubber stamps) the kids had gotten multiple colors of ink ALL OVER THEM! Shoot me now. Luckily, they did not belong to me, so I shooed them away and then relocated myself to the playgrounds.
The Boys' grade transformed the classroom into a Kenyan safari. There was wild animal face painting, a Mancala game station, massive stuffed animals and zebras in every corner. Most importantly, it was in Kenya that I made my first friend in Germany.
Leave it to The Mom to shout introductions across a crowded room. "NICOLE!!! THAT'S KATE! KATE, THAT'S NICOLE!!" Bewildered, I scanned the class for some girl named Kate, assuming I needed to take her to the bathroom. It took a few minutes for true clarity to apparate (there are no spelling suggestions for that word, so does that mean I just quoted Harry Potter?) but after that we were gold.
This is indeed a momentous occasion. A friend, my age, finally, after three weeks in Germany. We did the whole exchanging numbers tidbit, which was a first for me and my new digits (I have recently been given a German simcard). We met again later in the Caribbean where the preschoolers threw a pirate party.It was the most beautiful day since I've arrived and without the thought of a coat, I sat outside in my sundress and sweater. The massive sandbox was transformed into a treasure hunting spot full of shovels and chocolate coins. Some parent holding the chocolate money refused to give me one as the rules stated you had to find a voucher in the sand first. Rich people, I swear.
So fine, I grabbed a plastic shovel and jumped in that sandbox full of three year olds and dug a pit any pirate would have been proud of. Did I unearth anything? No. Was this not a game for toddlers? Some guy felt sorry for me and planted a coin to my right, which I immediately dug up and had to give to my kid. The game had potential, but man, that was too much work for very little/NO payoff. So, instead, my ingenuity took me to volunteer at the tattoo station where I freely stole chocolate coins when no one was looking. Take that, regulators of wealth.Eventually it was just Kate and I immersed in talk of Germany and world travel. When we returned our watchful eye to the tattoos (which were actually a plethora of rubber stamps) the kids had gotten multiple colors of ink ALL OVER THEM! Shoot me now. Luckily, they did not belong to me, so I shooed them away and then relocated myself to the playgrounds.
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