I ain’t no Eric Heiden, but…

My week long trip to Kaiserslautern, Germany has not been without its challenges, not the least of which is that my rental car’s window washer fluid mechanism doesn’t work. That is actually a pretty big challenge when you are driving over the Alps in the snow, or at night on foreign roads in the snow, or pretty much anywhere in this kind of weather.

But...but….one entire wall of my hotel room is a big window and glass door that looks out over a beautiful lake adjacent to the hotel. And when I arrived here, I could see people go out on that lake to walk around on the frozen ice, or ice skate, or attempt to ride their bikes. Also, there so happens to be a full moon this week, which is big and bright and beautiful, at least when it’s not snowing. So I ask you: was I going to stay in this hotel all week long watching these other people enjoy this beautiful frozen lake and not be out there myself?

Oh please, that dog just ain’t gonna hunt!

Of course I was going to go ice skating!...even if it meant driving all over God’s creation trying to find a pair of ice skates, even if it meant buying a new pair of ice skates when I have a perfectly good pair back home (or at least in some storage container somewhere), even if it meant embarrassing myself because it’s been so long since I’ve gone ice skating, and even if it meant going ice skating when it’s like 1F outside with a blowing, driving snow. I have been out ice skating every night since, taking big long loops around the perimeter of this lake, skating a little harder and faster with gaining confidence. And if anyone is wondering, yes, my legs and back have been so sore the following mornings I could barely walk. But it’s all good.

I mean, come on, anyone who knows me saw that coming a mile away, right? It’s like when we took our dog, Enzo, to the park and he would see a puddle of water off in the distance – you can predict the next half dozen series of events as sure the sun will come up tomorrow.

The funny thing about my time ice skating though is that I cannot seem to go ice skating without being constantly reminded of the days going ice skating as kids - specifically, going ice skating as a family, and more specifically witnessing the EPIC falls my Dad used to take on the ice. I might have to admit that part of the excitement of ice skating as a kid was the knowledge and expectation that as surely as the sun will come up tomorrow, my Dad was going to take a fall that would put the old “Agony of Defeat” video to shame. Rarely in any other time of my life have I seen bruising on the scale of size and color as the bruises my Dad would get from ice skating. And so if life has a tendency to repeat itself, I feel like I have gotten away with something if I can make it off the ice without repeating the carnage and subsequent cursing that my Dad used to wage on the frozen rivers and creeks of my youth.

ct

My Serbian Brother

Kaiserslautern, Germany. It's been a pretty long weekend. But I'm here and I even had a chance to Skype Suzanne and the kids earlier. It's weird, just one or two days away and I am already missing them all a ton, especially when I see them on the video. Suzanne looked great and I swear the kids have aged 6 months since I left a day ago.

My hotel room has a ginormous picture window making up most of the wall, where I can look out over the adjacent lake. The lake is frozen solid and there are a few people out there skating around. It's cool because you can see whole regions of the lake that are crystalline ice except for the scratches of one lone ice skater who apparently enjoyed skating on pristine ice. I brought my running shoes with me, and had designs on doing some biking before I had to leave my bike behind when my car broke down, but now I'm thinking that my morning exercise could be some skating around the lake. I did not bring my skates with me, but I'm wondering if I could rent a pair for the week and maybe try to get out a few times for some exercise. It's REALLY cold right now though. I'm not sure I packed for ice skating in this kind of cold.

I had dinner tonight at a Balkan restaraunt in Ktown (Kaiserslautern). Yup, an American eating at a Balkan restaraunt in Germany, with an Italian couple eating in the booth next to me. The gentlemen who served me did not know a word of English, except for when he referred to me as "chef". I ordered an entire meal, including a soup, an entree, and a wine, based on his suggestions. He pointed to a couple of things on the menu and I said Ja, Sehr Gut. It was all really good. I am pretty sure he comp'ed me the first glass of wine because I smiled a lot and was as friendly as I good be with him. I'm pretty sure I ordered a kleine (small) dessert, but it was pretty substantial nonetheless, and then the dude brought me some kind of shooter that must have taken a layer of enamel off my teeth. If I'm not mistaken, there were actual fumes emanating from this shooter, and I quickly moved it away from the candle on the table. You may notice that I preceed everything with "I'm pretty sure", which is to say that I am really not completely sure of anything, and I'm just taking my best guess as to where I am going, what I am doing, and what is happening around me.

After dinner, I go to the bar to pay and start chatting with a younger fellow who had recently arrived and who the other employees seemed to defer to. "I'm pretty sure" that he was the son of the guy who was serving me dinner, and I'm pretty sure he owned the place. His dad, my waiter, had already told me he was from Serbia, which is kind of weird in and of itself considering my experiences going into Bosnia in the 90s, keeping ever vigilant for Serbian minefields and IEDs, seeing the devastation of the Bosnian-Serbian war and all. But tonight, my biggest concern was the loss of tooth enamel from the shooter I just slurped down. The son, the apparent owner, had just gotten back from a soccer match between Kaiserslautern and Cologne. Kaiserslauthern lost in an upset. What I couldn't figure out was whether this dude was "just" an extremely avid fan, or whether he actually played for the team. He was pale-pastey-grey like he was either frozen cold (it's brutally cold up here these days) or if he was stone-drunk. I didn't mean to get into a whole friendly chat with the guy, and his dad, and the other guys, but it just turned out that way. Before you knows it, he is insisting that we all drink shots of some clear'ish looking liquor that I swear should have had a skull and crossbones on its label. It couldn't have been that costly either, because he was spilling this crap all over the joint as he poured us all another round of shots. In his words, it would make us all warm, and it was a drink that men should drink, not like that sweet pretty stuff that women drink! ....Sweet James, I had no business drinking that stuff. But what is worse, offending an entire family of Serbians who have just fed you dinner and comp'ed you wine, or brave the wrath of one little shot of clear liquor? (well,maybe it wasn't so little...) So in the spirit of US Diplomacy, I drank it. And then I paid my tab and got out of there before anything else could be shoved my way. You know when you've had something so strong that you feel an urge to rub your tongue across your teeth? Yeah..... I'm pretty sure if I had stayed any longer, we all would have been locked arm and arm, dancing in a circle, signing some Serbian folk song, lamenting the loss of our favorite soccer team, spilling grain alcohol (or whatever we were drinking) everywhere, while the temperature outside continued to plummet to artic levels.

Enjoy the Super Bowl everybody! Tschuss!

ct

Just a little Craziness

I write now from Fussen, Germany. The snow has stopped for now. It is -1 degrees F outside. I have stopped here enroute to Kaiserslautern, Germany for a week-long training class. It's a 500+ mile drive from Vicenza to Kaiserslautern and I would have gotten much further were it not for the fact that the "Millenium Falcon" (our newly purchased 1997 BMW "autostrada car") took a big dump on me. What I mean by that is that when I stopped to cap-off with fuel in Bolzano, before crossing into Austria and Germany, I noticed at that gas station that there was smoke coming from under the car. Upon further inspection, one could see all of the oil dripping freely from the entire undercarriage of the car. Not good. It's been an interesting last few hours.

The Italian gas station attendant called the tow truck. The tow druck arrived 45 minutes later and hauled me and the MF away. Of course, we had to drive 10km further North on the Autostrada in order to exit, do a U-turn, and drive 30 km back South to an mechanic's shop in Bolzano. But, of course, it's Saturday, and no Italian mechanics work on Saturday afternoon, much less Sunday. So Plan B was to hitch a ride with the tow truck driver, Domenica, to a rental car agency that so thankfully was open. Domenica, the tow truck driver, should be a stockcar racer. That guy has been playing way too many video games and clearly is not separating fiction from reality. That was the most nerve-racking car ride I can ever recall being on, including the relatively placid test drive we took when we were buying the Millenium Falcon. I don't know how many G's Domenica was pulling going around those rotunda, and I don't know how often he checks or replaces his brakes, but I do know that I heard some Italian words that are NOT taught in most classrooms and I do know that I wish I had taken some Dramamine before that car ride.

In all the haste and confusion, I left the GPS, road maps, and all of my CDs in the BMW. I was now driving an Italian rental car, across the Austrian/German Alps, in the dark, with snow falling, with what I assume were sheer cliffs on all sides even though I couldn't really see too well and kind of just pretended the dropoffs weren't there, with no maps or GPS, driving along the switchbacks and very steep up/down slopes, passing more than one car accidents that had happened within the hour, can't even remember the last time I have driven a manual transmission car, with nonfunctional window washers, not really even knowing where I was or where I was going....I was driving on Faith I tell you. "Use the Force, Luke!" Turn off the infared visor, close the eyes, and use the force I did.

Fussen appears to be a wonderful town - classic oldtown Bavarian type deal. It kind of reminds me of Kitzbuhl, or even Villach (where we went on our way to Salzburg this Christmas). I think it would be even nicer if there were more people around, walking the streets and such. But being that it is colder than a witch's {milkshake} right now, there aren't many people out and about. I may try to see a little during the daylight tomorrow, because it is supposed to warm up to a high of 15 F here tomorrow.

It may be a bit sacrilege, but I ate at an Asian restaraunt tonight. And oh my Good Golly was it good. After a challenging day, and I've really only written about half of it, I am very thankful to have found a good hotel room and to have had such a good dinner. Hot, hot, hot lemon grass and shrimp soup, and a crispy duck deal served with rice and fantastic vegetables, with this coconut cream sauce deal. Bam! Couple of glasses of good red wine, a little baked bananas with honey and ice cream for dessert - I'm feeling better, fo so'!