Goodbye Hotel Europa, hello Seewoog

My bags are packed I'm ready to go, the Mini is loaded to the Max with suitcases and bags of dirty clothes. The computer will stay with me this last night, as will tomorrow's work clothes, then its one last beautiful breakfast and I check out.

I've never lived in a Hotel before, in fact I don't know that I ever stayed in a Hotel for more than maybe 5 days. I think it was Larry's Great Grandfather (?) who chose to live in a Hotel where he could gamble, smoke cigars and have his laundry done. I used to think that was weird But, I think I'm understanding a bit more now.

Room 306 has been my home for 34 days. It's a nice size room with a small refrigerator, a microwave, a round table with 2 chairs, a small desk and a large comfortable bed that has 2 mattresses and a space between them. The large shrunck comfortably housed my clothes, and the water pressure in the shower was divine. It surprises and delights me that I never felt I needed more.

The people I have come to "know" are perhaps the biggest asset to living in a Hotel. Many are here for an extended length of time and may or may not have their families with them, most are Military but there are some independent contractors like myself and Hotel Europa is a dog friendly place. I have many 4 legged friends of all varieties, from bull dogs, to labs, to corkies, to schnauzers. I have witnessed teenagers who despise their parents for uprooting them, to toddlers who delight in everything, to pre-adolescents who cannot believe there is cake served at breakfast. And then they disappear. Many resurface on base, at the bank or the immunization clinic, or in the housing office, and it's always good to see a familiar face.

No, in my stay here, I never felt I needed more. Until now. I can't wait to go to the hardware store to buy window boxes for my balcony and plant some flowers, to get a BBQ grill and cook dinner, to make my own ice, and who knows. Maybe I'll meet some people who don't disappear.

And even tho' I'm not leaving on a jet plane (thanks be to God), my bags are packed and I'm ready to go.

Wholesale, retail, yardsale...

Yes, the decision was made to rent the house on Lake Seewoog, and the decision was made to buy the Mini. So, why am I still living in a Hotel, depending on the mercy of others to provide me transportation to work and to hunt for treasures in out of the way places, living much as a teenager with definite wants but needing the parents to complete the picture. Sometimes it can be absolutely maddening. Emancipation is a difficult process even at the age of 58.

I have the apartment and I even have the key but what is lacking is a bed, a couch and the contract for utilities from the German council. It's all very difficult to explain and I don't know that one would find it of interest, but being an American citizen, exempt from the mandatory 19% tax, simply creates a lot of paper work. It is a "step" that I am willing to take, no matter how laborious, given that in the long run it saves me a sizable amount of money. So yes, I have the key AND I have 28 boxes that have arrived from America, sitting in the living room with no couch.

Getting money for the Mini was almost as easy as it was for those poor yokels getting a mortgage loan without a job. Sign here. Done. Clean and dirty. Yes, I bought the Mini, and I even struggled for 2 days with someone who spoke as much English as I do German making sure I had adequate insurance. And I have my receipt for insurance and the bill of sale for the car, BUT no key. The kink is in the paper work, somewhere in the German system waiting for customs clearance.

And, it's hard to look for furniture without a car, a GPS, not knowing when or how I could arrange for delivery. Stores per sey don't attract me, never really have. I like the adventure and the thrill of finding something unique, cheap (or at least a good buy) and most importantly, the experiences along the way. Having to depend on someone you hardly know who wants to share in the adventure can be an an experience in and of itself. At least there is no paper work.

I responded to an Ad in the RamsteinYardsale.com for a "shrunck"..a german word for closet or wardrobe. None of the houses here have built in closets so one has to depend on shruncks. The response was from an elderly couple who live in a renovated 1459 Mill about an hour from Ramstein, saying they had a shrunck and lived in a mill. 2 men whom I have met at the hotel and work in the milling industry, were intrigued enough to agree to drive me. This was an experience to remember. The couple is very eccentric and deem themselves to be "collectors." He has a collection of over 8,000 coffee pots and She has over 3,000 dolls. They have collections of irons, doll house furniture, shruncks that you wouldn't believe and a wonderful Great Dane named Jake. Long story short, I bought a shrunck I found in the attic (Jake helped me pick it out) and He printed off a copy of his book that he recently finished about the history of the Mill. I love it. He punched 2 holes in the side and took a shoestring from his wife's boot in order to "bind it properly." When I go back next weekend to help disassemble the shrunck, he promised he would he would have a hard bound copy of the book for me.

How can Storehouse, Crate and Barrel, and Pottery Barn compete with the richness of shopping in a renovated Mill with 2 wonderful people who have such passion for their life and a willingness to share so openly? And, when is the last time you shopped along side a 230# great dane named Jake? Wholesale...pppfffttt retail..pppfffttt
Ramstein Yard Sale.com yyyyeeeeeaaaaa. and, NO PAPER WORK!!!

A mess of photos, but I'm still learning.

 

Settle...

I marveled at the thirsty patrons when I was in Ireland, admiring their patience as the bartender poured the Guinness. Slowly and methodically he would spin the glass until it was not quite half full then he would set it on a special mat and give it time to settle. This would take easily 5-7 minutes before he would then top it off and let it settle once again. The end result was always perfect with just the right amount of head and a silent nod from the publican indicated it was now time to enjoy.

I found myself trying to rush some very important decisions ( an apartment, a car ) and then I remembered the pouring of Guinness. Some things just take time. I did go for my long walk last Sunday and discovered tables with linen cloths on the walking trail that surrounds Lake Seewoog. There were locals standing at a high bar in the woods having their morning bier, other locals sitting at the tables drinking coffee while the dog laid obediently beside the master, and I took the time to sit and have a cappacino. I gave myself time to "settle." And I observed a 5 year old boy riding bikes with his Opa, and I saw black ducks with white faces, and I saw empty picnic tables waiting for a party. I saw a red haired woman walking a golden retriever and other locals playing fetch with large dogs, and after I had given myself time to settle I knew this was where I wanted to live.

With one thing resolved, I started test driving autos from the Ramstein Lemon Lot. BMW's, 300 series, 500 series, VW polo series. As hard as I wanted it to be, nothing fit. I argued with myself, $$$, miles miles miles, expected time of service, color vs performance. It was time to "settle." Put me on that special mat and just let me be. It would all come to fruition if I didn't force it. It just takes time.

I bought my dream car of 7 years. A Mini Cooper. 2009, pepper white with black leather interior, sky roof and in-put for my I-pod. I drove that baby and thought
" should never have driven this car. It fits like a glove and I'm not even afraid of the traffic circles." No! I SHOULD drive this car. It fits like a glove and I'm not afraid of traffic circles!

Dreams. Wants and desires. Fears and thoughts of selfishness. Romance and practicality: all of these things need time to settle and come together in a cohesive manner. I have a place to live; I have a car to drive; I have reconciled my internal gas bubbles. For right now, I am settled enough. The publican has nodded. Cheers!

So many decisions...

For me to be wide awake and rested on a Sunday morning @ 5AM is an unnatural state of being, but that is where I am in this new country. I retire early and rise just as early, normally eager to greet the day. This morning however, I am weary albeit awake.

I passed my drivers license test on Friday and the next task is to find and buy a car. To drive in Germany means that one is alert, attentive, not afraid of speed and courteous. I can do courteous. But, I am already feeling the angst of being responsible for getting from A to B, even though I DO know my German signs! I have grown accustomed to having my breakfast, taking my last cup of coffee out to the terrace, reviewing notes of what I must accomplish for the day while waiting for my "driver." That is about to end. Until I got my license, I wasn't allowed by law to even test drive a car now, I can. I'm leaning toward a BMW primarily because 9 out of 10 used cars are Beemers, and soldiers are being deployed left and right and forced to leave their cars behind. I'll maybe make a decision this week. Stay posted.

Cars aside, my time in beautiful Hotel Europia is coming to an end and I must decide on where to live. I have a verbal contract on an apartment overlooking Seewoog Lake in the village of Miesenbach (pronunciation guide: when I and E are walking the second one does the talking.) It's quite large for an apartment in Germany, 120sqm, 3 bedrooms, large living area, built in kitchen (not necessarily a given)and 1.5 baths. There is a large balcony off the living room with an unobstructed view of the lake, which sits on the outer edge of a national forest. Very serene, with multiple walking trails going in every direction to various villages. The Village itself is, like most of Germany, is extremely clean and the streets very narrow. Streets and stoops are swept daily in the morning and early evening to maintain the pristine surrounding. There is however, nothing but residence's in this village, which means no market, coffee shop, guest house, etc. And I wonder as I ponder if this will end up being too serene for me.

And remember. I sold all of my personal belongings which means I now have to find furniture and figure out a way to have it all delivered. I find myself overwhelmed right this moment. A friend took me to yet another village yesterday and even tho' it was not as charming architecturally there were local businesses and a large Bahnhof station. We stopped for a libation and talked to an American couple who was house hunting and they were not only knowledgeable about the village, but couldn't stop singing it's praises. It would be 12 minutes to base if the autobahn is open, 20 minutes otherwise. Oh no. I would be on the AUTOBAHN in my new used car looking for an exit going 120km/h. No more singing along with Cat Stevens! Attention, Alert.

I simply don't know what to do. For right now I think I'll go for a long walk, maybe to Miesenbach and walk around the lake. I'll look for inspiration and hope for Divine intervention. Then I will shower and go to a German Castle for a tour and dinner with a new friend named Cindy (a local nationalist.)

And I'll take my camera so you will no longer have to depend on words alone.

Ciao for now.

Red Patten Shoes

Can I just say, I absolutely love my new Red Patten Dansko's. I bought 2 new pairs of Dansko clogs before I left the states because they are the most incredible fitting shoes for someone with my type of arch and they prevent me from getting reoccurring plantar fasciatis. I am typically on my feel alot during the day, whether I am actively walking or simply standing looking at charts and without proper shoes, my legs tire and the hamstring gets taut. I converted to Dansko's 2001 and have been a true believer in them ever since. But, this new pair, its more than a comfortable fit! It's an experience!

Deep cherry in color and patten, shiny leather and they make me smile every time I look down at my feet, and when I believe I am alone in the hall, I click my heels and say "Toto, we're not in Kansas anymore."

I was in new employee orientation most of the day today, and for the most part these types of presentations are unimpressive and boring, but today I had my shoes to occupy my mind. I started thinking about the Wizard of Oz, and The Tin Man in particular. His desire for a heart was so intense, he cried. Which led me to the thought that if he cried, wasn't that a sign he had a heart? When one shows or expresses no emotions or feelings we refer to that person as having no heart. He's heartless, we say, but the Tin Man did have feelings.

I looked under the table and quietly clicked my heels but this time I thought, "I'd better pay attention or Toto, we'll end up back in Kansas.

Memorial Day in Ramstein, Germany

I work on an American Air Force Base and this has been one of the quietest Memorial Days I have had in my entire 58 years. It is possible that since this is a recognized American Holiday, giving us a 3 day weekend, that many (most) of the American population is touring Europe. I heard of several groups going to Berlin, Italy, France, hiking, biking and sighting, but I am too new to be included in such trips. Instead, I enjoyed an early celebration in Kaiserslautern Saturday and a quiet, pensive Monday.

A colleague invited me to an early festival in her home city of Kaiserslautern, the largest city close to where I am staying. The festival itself was very small, mostly rides geared toward the very young but the bells, whistles and colors were a delight that was equaled only by the smiling faces of children going round and round and round. Screams of delight or fear, it was hard to discern which, echoed through the streets of the carnival. Entertainment for the young at heart with lead in their feet was at the opposite end of the festival, in a tent about the size of 1/2 a football field. This was the bier festival with a live German band who played
"old favorites," maybe similar to Mid-life Crisis.

My friend said that lead would melt and before we would leave, she promised that everyone would be dancing on top of the table, including me. It was great fun witnessing how the German people relate to music and one another, how they include those sitting on the same bench or several benches over, how easily one is engaged and how unimportant language is. I of course didn't know any of the songs, but it was hard not to eventually wiggle to the rhythm. That damn early Baptist rearing you know, where it is pounded into you that a dancing foot and praying knee don't grow on the same leg.

There were so many beautiful segments, older women who were soft and comfortable in their XXL tops, dancing with young men in their mid 20's who had 6pack abs, husbands who could shake a leg as long as the younger ones and the absolute involvement of everyone present. I admit only to standing on the table as the evening wore on, but only so I could see. I stayed the night at my friends apartment and took the train back to Ramstien Sunday morning, a trip that took all of 17 minutes.

And today, it is quiet. An early morning walk on a trail that I thought would take me to Miesenbach took me instead to Weirbach and rather than walk on into the village, I chose to sit on a bench in the middle of the woods next to the walking trail. The sounds were surreal but I could never identify the source, so I didn't sit in silence but I did sit in peace. I love the walking trails in Germany. They are wide, almost 7 feet I'd say, and asphalted and WEED-EATED by city personnel. They stretch from village to village, going through valleys and fields and nary a farm house in site. But once you commit to walking, you keep going because there is no going back. I returned back to Hotel Europa 2 hours later and was grateful that today was an American holiday and I was not expected to show up for work!

Memorial Day, 2009. And as I sat on that bench in the middle of the woods on the side of the walking trail, listening to sounds I couldn't identify, I remembered my dad. A WWII veteran with the Air Corps. And I remembered Grandpa Charley, not for his service in WWI but for his pumpkin pie. And I remembered my mom, a veteran in her own right although not a soldier, and there was Gertrude, grandma West and grandma Charley. Many people I have loved who would understand a walk in the woods, sitting on a bench in personal silence surrounded by sound.

Happy holiday!