Skater Girl Meets Skater Boy

Today I decided to take my own advice (specifically, number three from yesterday's post) and get moving to ward off winter doldrums! I'm pretty regular about getting my exercise, but the same old routine is exactly what I don't need when the grey January days are getting me down. So I decided to mix it up a bit and have David, ever the sport, take me skating! I currently prefer to calling it Ice Running, since in German you can say Eislaufen and I love literal translations, especially when they only sort of make sense.

Every time we go skating, the memory of our first twirl around the ice together must be recounted. I was visiting Manitoba with Dave over the holidays a few years back and he took me to one of the many wonderful municipally maintained outdoor rinks that Brandon boasts in the winter months. There's nothing better than skating outside. Alright, there are things better than skating outside, but no better way to experience skating.

After lacing up a pair of vintage D. Bonk skates circa 1990, I stood and marched through the snow to the rink entrance. Dave went onto the ice first, then turned around, sort of bending down a little so he could talk right at my level, held out his hands and said ever so gently "Ok, honey, just step out here slowly and grab my hands. I've got you." This might sound cute, and the intention was caring, but I was annoyed. "Pardon?" I said, as I mustered my inner Scarlett O'Hara (ungrateful wretch!), breezed by him and skated away with as much speed as these stumpy legs can muster. I grew up in northern Michigan! My father still plays hockey to this day! I excel at winter sports! Who did he think he was dealing with?

Needless to say, Dave never underestimated my skills again, or at least not my skating abilities. Since then he's helped me perfect my crossovers, quick starts and foward-to-backward transition. My backward-to-forward transition is another matter entirely, we'll call it a 'work in progress' but that may have to be changed to 'lost cause.'

Frown: Make It Upside Down

It's that time of year again. We can barely move ourselves from our incredibly thin-mattressed bed with it's horrible pillows. Winter has taken hold.

Winter can be an incredibly charming season. It brings sweaters and scarves, blue jays and cardinals, hot cocoa and Bailey's. But this season, more than the others, seems to drag on. It also brings frostbite and dry skin, yellow snow and wind chill, cold and flu. I'll admit that Dave and I, both coming from incredibly wintry places in their own distinct ways, have gone soft. This is our hardest winter in a few years, and it has only snowed a handful of times. We haven't faced a winter like this in a while, and the coldest it has been is -10C/14F. But winter is winter and grey is grey and we are getting a serious case of cabin fever. And by cabin I mean Crimmitschau and by fever I mean extreme irritability.

So, in honor of our boot weary feet and Vitamin D deficient skin tones, I've compiled a list of possible remedies to the Winter Blues that are affecting people everywhere, regardless of proximity to the equator. Unless of course you are in the Southern Hemisphere, in which case, read this in 6 months.

1. EAT: Yes, eat. I know, you made a New Year's Resolution to lose weight. Who didn't? What's that you say? Emotional eating is unhealthy? Bite into a chocolate bar or a piece of pizza, and then talk to me. I'm not saying to go bananas and binge on all goodies you can get your grubby mitts on, I'm simply saying to allow yourself a treat. Make a favorite meal, go to your favorite restaurant. They don't call it 'comfort food' for nothing.

2. SLEEP: The days may be getting longer, but you're probably still getting home from work after dark. The urge to nap is undeniable, but your inner adult says you left naps behind when you graduated pre-school. I say your inner adult is cranky due to a lack of sleep. You deserve a rest! It's dark anyway! In a few months it will be summer and you'll be running around outside barefoot until 11pm! If you still feel guilty about taking a nap, do what my dad does and 'read the paper' in a cozy chair with your eyes closed, head tilted back and mouth open.

3. RUN: If you followed my first two tips, you might feel a little guilty about calories and slothfulness. So get moving! Sure it's cold out, but you can face it! Bundle up and go for a walk! Head to the gym and play some racquetball (but for the love of god, wear safety goggles). Hell, you can even run the stairs a few times in your house. Get the blood pumping, possibly to some loud pop-trash music, and I can almost guarantee some endorphins.

4. CALL ME: Seriously. Do it. Right now. Or if you don't know me, call someone who you do know, because calling me would just result in a lot of awkwardness. Catching up with a friend or family member that keeps getting pushed down on the 'to-do list' will boost your spirits no matter how low the temperatures have sunken.

5. COUNT: There are only so many days until Spring arrives, this can't go on forever. Add them up, and count them down. Having something to look forward to can be the light at the end of a dark, late-January tunnel. Right now I have a countdown until my next visitor (42 days) and my next foot massage (11 minutes). It gives me a sense of purpose!

If all else fails, take a bubble bath, don your coziest pajamas, pop in 'Willy Wonka' and throw back a few shots of Whiskey. Hang in there, winter warriors!

Supermarket Sweep

It's a commonly held notion in North American that living in Europe is incredibly expensive in comparison. And like many commonly held notions, there is at least some measure of truth to that idea. For example, a pair of hockey skates that would cost Dave about $500 would cost him about €700, or $1,023.85, clearly a considerable mark-up. For that amount of money the skates should be jet-propelled or able to speak words of hockey wisdom. Gas is averaging about $3.01 for a gallon of regular unleaded in the U.S., while here we are paying about €1.35 per liter (this converts to almost $8.00 per gallon). I would never buy Nike or Diesel over here knowing what kind of price people at home are getting. I'd prefer to buy electronics and cars at North American prices if at all possible.

And despite all I've just said and what I'm about to say following this caveat, it is most important to remember one thing. Often North Americans say 'Europe' and mean one big thing, while in reality Europe is a lot of highly varied places. Just ask any European. The difference between the standard and cost of living from Sweden to Portugal to Germany to Slovakia is vast. One currency does not mean one economy; a Euro can buy you something different in each region or country.

All that having been said, one of the similarities between our economic experiences in high tech Eastern Holland to slow growth Eastern Germany can be found at the till of the local grocery store. We don't shop the same way here as we would at home. Instead of a giant haul in a giant store once in a while with horrific light, we pop into various smaller stores a few times a week or even daily. The horrific lighting is universal. And yet even when you add up our weekly receipts, it is nothing in comparison to the bills dedicated to groceries back home. Each time we fill a cart and watch our choices ride the conveyor belt through the incessant beep beep beep of the scanner, our eyes fill with wonder and our heads shake in disbelief when the total is read. Luxury items might cost you an arm and a leg, but at least you can eat!

Below is a sample of a typical shopping trip for me, the actual items from last night's receipt (please don't judge, I like what I like and I can't help it!):

2kg potatoes
1 Package of Penne
2 Frozen Garlic Bread Baguettes
1 Package Chocolate-Covered Butter Cookies
1 Bag of Mozzarella
1 Avocado
2 Heads of Broccoli
6 Roma Tomatoes
1 Bag of Soup Noodles
1 Package of Sandwich Baggies
1 Can of White Beans in Tomato Sauce
1 Pack (50 bags) of Ceylon Tea
1 2 liter of Cola Zero

Most expensive items: 6 Roma tomatoes €1.39 = $2.02

Least expensive item: Penne €0.55 = $0.80

And the Grand Total? Any guesses? The entire lot cost us €10.23, or $15.03. Say what you will, but don't tell me that isn't reasonable. Mind you, the conversion is only for your benefit, because since we are making Euros we think in Euros when doing our spending. But even at $15.03, I dare say this is the deal of the century. And while we make attempts to 'save' money since we are 'adults', we've been lucky to be able to eat like kings. Budget-conscious, snack-happy, kings.

The Buddy System: Berlin Part Four

Part four in a four part series on our trip to Berlin.

A week ago we were cuddled up in Hotel Kiva in Berlin, reading books with one eye, watching the BBC News (a creature never seen in Crimmy) with the other while resting our aching sight-seer feet. We were high on city air and ethnic food. Thanks to a nuanced combination of World War II, the Berlin Wall, globalization and German precision, Berlin is a place where you can navigate easily from old, gargoyle filled Euro-fortress straight into a modern, neon-sign lit Euro-metropolis. There's high fashion and low maintenance, often on the same block.

But the gems of Berlin, or any new destination for that matter, often seem all the more precious when you have someone to share with. "Oooooing" and "aahhhhhing" at the sights seems a bit like mental illness when you are alone, but feels like a confirmation when you have a pal relate with. Travelling alone has perks and pleasures all to it's own, but having the perfect companion is a more preferable long-term solution. A friend works as a back-up to your own memory, giving you a slightly different (if not conflicting) version of the travel diary. A comrade helps you decide to go right or left at a decidedly confusing fork in the road. A partner has your back in the shady alley you accidentally wandered down looking for the perfect piece of cake (and I still have not located said piece of cake). And lucky for me my best friend and most patient co-conspirator accompanies (and often chauffeurs) me on most of my travel missions. Berlin, Barcelona, Barstow, Big Bay. All the better with David.


Pictured below is and adorable couple I photographed in the dome of the Reichstag without notice or permission. Not only do I have an obsession with the elderly, but this couple seemed to come with the caption: "Dave and Lane sightseeing in 2061: Lane got rid of her purse Dave is finally carrying the shit in a man-bag." Don't worry, my future fur coat is faux and Dave's hair is real.

Public Transport: Berlin Part Three

Part Three in a four-part series on our trip to Berlin.

After all that talk about wandering in my last post, I feel a little guilty. In the interest of full-disclosure, I should tell you that I don't do all the wandering on foot. It's true that most of our 24 hours in Berlin was spent hoofing it, and all of it was spent spontaneously rambling from place to place, but Berlin boasts some sweet ass S-Bahn, U-Bahn and bus systems. One day-pass and you can hop on and off any and all of these as much as your little heart desires. And dear David has a tendency towards motion sickness, so you never know when we'll be compelled to make our exit.

We love public transportation, and have never been let down in any city we've visited so far. In Berlin, we raced to the top of the double-decker buses each time and shoved rookie tourists and burly locals out of our way just to sit in the front. Not only does this forward-facing position help with aforementioned motion sickness, it gives you an experience that can only be titled 'IMAX: Bus.' Every corner feels like turning a corner in rally-car racing, and every pedestrian or cyclist nearly clobbered is like a close-up action shot. You can ride in a loop as long as you please, seeing the sights from a seated position and doing some high-quality people watching.

Waiting oh-so-patiently for the bus.

V.I.P. seats as far as public transport goes.

Ride facing forward to avoid heaving.

Wandering: Berlin Part Two

Part two in a four-part series on our recent trip to Berlin.

We hit Berlin with little more than a rough plan: See things, have fun. This is generally the same plan we have in every city we visit worldwide, whether we're in North Dakota or Catalunya. To be fair, we do always have a map at the ready (grasped tightly in my sweaty fist) and we gladly take suggestions from friends, hotel staff, waiters, buskers and dogs as to which sights are not to be missed. On Monday, we checked into our hotel, took notes on which bus line to use to get home at night, and set OFF. We hoofed it past all the major sights. We shuffled up the ramp to the top of the Bundestag, battling vertigo. We maneuvered through the Brandenburg Gate and down to Checkpoint Charlie. We caught a bus again at Potsdamer Platz and found our way to Museum Island. All this was accomplished in two days, with only a general aim and no regimented strategy.

I'm not going to preach against guided tours or even annoying tour buses. With a limited amount a time you can use those methods to learn about your surroundings and see the major monuments. I've been on some killer bike tours and I do love a good British tour guide. And it could be said that the wandering theory causes you to 'miss' a few things. But so far all my best adventures have been involved some map-assisted wandering, and anything I missed was more than made up for with things that I didn't even know I was looking for. It allows you to stumble upon unforeseen favorites and get a little bit lost. It takes the stress out of seeing, and gives you the feeling that you really are on vacation rather than a death march.

Eat: Berlin Part One

This begins a four-part series featuring our recent spur-of-the-moment trip to Berlin. While the series will highlight some of the specifics of our trip, each entry will provide insight to my general Travel Philosophy. Furthermore, it is important to note that dear David took a puck in the face less than 24 hours before our spontaneous departure, and was understandably not feeling his best. He is usually a sport, but in this instance he was a sport AND a trooper.

Any travel, regardless of the length of your journey, requires nourishment. And when you are travelling to a new continent, country or even region, you want to try the local cuisine. However, I think through living in the hamlet of Crimmy Dave and I have sampled all the traditional German cuisine that we could ever ask for, so going to Berlin required a bit of creativity. Instead of looking at this as a trip to a foreign country, we looked at it as a trip to the city for some country folks. And what does the city have that the country tends to lack when it comes to culinary choices? Diversity. In other words, Chinese food.

Don't get me wrong. We went into this edible endeavor with an open mind. We walked the streets of the quaint neighborhood of our hotel, right off the Ku'damm. We drank beer, as is mandatory every day of life in Germany. We ate tapas for lunch, because chorizo, patatas bravas and a plate of mixed cheese and olives remind us of our Spanish honeymoon. When we needed a breather, we popped into a little coffee shop that boasted North American style baked goods, ie: carrot cake with cream cheese frosting and banana bread. But for dinner, Dave put in a special request for some Chinese alá Germany. We found the perfect place, tucked down a back alley with only a chubby Buddha to indicate the entrance, and we had the place to ourselves. The food was delicious and plentiful. The spring rolls brought tears to my eyes.

The point of travelling to any new place, whether it is the town next to yours or the furthest point on the globe from where you now sit, is to get a feeling for what life there is like. Eating is a tangible and nutritionally necessary method of achieiving this objective. Pack an apple in your bag so that you can stave off hunger a little longer in the hopes of finding something a bit more out of the way, sit surrounded by locals rather than fellow tourists. Open your mind to the fact that Germans don't just eat schnitzel, the French can serve you more than fois gras and tacos are not Spanish. Be adventurous but for the love of god, pack a dictionary so you can avoiding eating something truly terrible that will haunt you forever; you are trying to get a taste of the local cuisine, that doesn't mean you have to delve in to organs not yet known to your gastro-intestinal system.

Put An Egg In The Whole

If you have a glass, some bread, a pat of butter and an egg, you can follow the directions in the title of this post and make this meal.

This recipe is probably well known and oft used by college students and the culinarily challenged. But for me, it was a new find suggested by a reader of this blog. My dearest David, hailing from the prairies of Canada, loves anything to do with a traditional breakfast. Make some combination of eggs, toast and meat (but for the love of god do NOT add onions) and he is in heaven. So I thought "Egg In A Hole" would be right up his alley.

It's true, he ate it. He put hot sauce and ketchup on it and gobbled it right down. But he wasn't enthusiastic about it, he didn't rave. Here are the major problems, as I see them:

a) The bread does not become crunchy enough with the butter/pan procedure. Toast is always best, toasted in a toasting machine.

b) Is this egg cooked all the way? Dave comes from a family of people who are, shall we say, hyper-vigilant about the doneness of their food. Dave is more of a fried or scrambled egg guy. When he is feeling daring, he eats his eggs over medium. But over easy? Running and gooey? Not a chance. This egg cooked easily enough through the bottom, but the bread would have been charcoal if I left it long enough to make the top edible. Therefore, I flipped it and in doing so ruined some of the aesthetic value.

c) What about the circles leftover from the bread? Do people throw those away with all the crusts and muffin bottoms? I was trained in the Clark Family School of Non-Wasting, so I toasted them and put peanut butter on top.

Not what I would call 'bad', but not great either. In a pinch, this meal will cook up quickly and easily. If you aren't as choosy about your yolk consistency, you might even use those leftover bread circles for dipping. To each, his or her own.

I Love Alonzo Solace

And who, you might ask, is Alonzo Solace? Well, if you were a 13 year old in 1994 with a closeted love of all things Science Fiction, you would know. You would know that the best show ever aired that year (and that year only, to my dismay) and Alonzo Solace was the character played by the dreamy Antonio Sabato Junior. 'Earth 2' was set in the future and was based on the premise that colonists who left Earth looking for a more habitable planet crashed on an alien landscape with little in the way of supplies and no idea where they were. Mix in some hostile aliens, human backstabbing, an adorable kid with a fatal disease, and the Noxema girl. Awesomeness ensued.

Back in 1994, my entire weekend was based around the Sunday night, back-to-back airing of 'Earth 2' and 'Seaquest DSV', featuring the Teen Bop sensation Jonathan Brandis and a talking dolphin. All this was of course kept top secret from my middle school peers. Science Fiction is not known to be 'cool' and my pack of Lip Smacker loving comrades were not about to discuss my feelings on the possibility of creating a viable underwater society or the likelihood of oxygen-consuming life on other planets when 'My So-Called Life' was filling the airwaves. So I hunkered down and kept quiet. Until now.

I love Sci-Fi. And Fantasy. And all things alien, futuristic and whimsical. There, I said it. And we're not just talking about the pop stuff like 'Men In Black' or 'Lord of the Rings' or even 'The Flight of the Navigator.' I'm talking 'Stargate: Atlantis' (because who are we kidding, 'SG-1' just can't hold a candle to the spin-off), reruns of 'Quantam Leap', 'Donnie Darko' and especially any original programming on the Sci-Fi network. If it has a time machine, a unicorn, an elf, or an alien emerging from some human orifice, I'm in. What's my fascination with this genre? It's hard to pinpoint, but I'm pretty sure it boils down to this: Happy Endings. Not like the Asian massage parlor kind, but the good guys win, bad guys die, wrongs are righted kind. My over active imagination always needs a playground where it can blow off some steam, and fairy filled forests or extra-terrestrial colonies are always ripe for exploring.

I'm here, I'm odd, and I'm can't keep quiet anymore.


*photo courtesy of: The Kozy Shack

My Best Friend's Wedding

As most of the expats I know (most of whom also read this and maintain their own blogs) will attest, being far flung from loved ones is the most difficult aspect of life abroad. Certainly we miss proper peanut butter, TV programs, people who understand what we are saying, wider parking spaces and free water at restaurants. However, those things pale in comparison to the comfort that familiar faces and embraces can bring. Sure, a well-known voice over the phone can bring some solace to the homesick heart, but when you have a tough week, when the world's got you beat, when you just had the worst hair day of your life, you need some face time with people who know you best. You need someone to shake some sense into you, to hold you while you cry, to feed you cookies while you vent. You need someone who saw you through bad fashion, poorly chosen boyfriends, grand-scale mistakes and loves you all the more for it.

A little less than two weeks ago, my someone got married. My best friend, Jess, married her best friend, Matt, in our hometown. And due to distance, timing and my own familial obligations I wasn't there. Being an expat has many glories. The culture, the travel, the language, the experiences are all rich for learning and life lessons. But all that seems for naught on the day when you miss your best friend's wedding. Lucky for me, Jess is a kindred and shares my beliefs that moments, ceremonies and legalities aren't what makes or breaks a human bond. She was committed to Matt in her heart the same way the day before her wedding as she was the moment after the marriage certificate was signed. We're friends as much today as we would have been if I had been standing next to her during her vows. But that doesn't necessarily make me miss her any less.

The good news is that, despite any selfish sadness I feel for my own absence on her wedding day, my best friend has found someone to keep her company all the times when I'm away from her. She found a companion who knows her as well, and certainly in many ways better, than I do and loves her unendingly. Luckily for that lucky man, he also understands and supports the invincible and lovingly strange bond that I share with her. He has entered the triangle that was once Lane, Dave and Jess, and made it a square with us barely noticing. They've even chosen the hamlet of Crimmy as the first stop on their springtime Euro-Honeymoon, and we'll do our best to foster the romance. Perhaps now that their union is legal, we won't make them sleep in the bunk beds.

Is this not the most amazingly gorgeous bride you've ever seen!?

In-Law of the Jungle

Relating to your in-laws seems to have become a cultural joke, the subject of sarcastic and pessimistic books, movies and TV sitcoms. There is often a lot of pressure, probably the majority of which is self-induced, to perform well in front of your partner's family. After all, these are the people from whom your lover was spawned and who molded him into the man he is today. Or at least molded him until he turn 17, moved out and let a smattering of influential college professors, all-nighters and beer pong mold the other bits.

But the truth is that you just want to make a good impression, even if you meet them before you know whether or not you'll be marrying their offspring. You suit up in your best duds (with extra deodorant in case of nervous sweating), dust off the big vocabulary (but not too big, you don't want them to think you are a pompous ass), and mentally review your resumé (exaggerating your charitable contributions). You madly love their son/daughter/brother/sister and you want them to see why their son/daughter/brother/sister loves you madly. You haven't wanted someone to like you this badly since the first day of Middle School. And we all know how that turned out.

Lucky for me and those within smelling distance, I am now far beyond the nervous-sweaty-armpit stage. My relationship with Dave's family is worlds better than all those worst-case scenarios that sitcoms portray, and the same goes for Dave with my family. Of course I still try to impress, I want them to see how much I care for their beloved David. I want them to realize that I value the undeniable and unchanging place they occupy in his heart. I want them to marvel at my domestic skills and physical agility. And I want them to think I'm hilarious. Correction: I want them to know I'm hilarious.

After a two-week visit with Kathy, Dave's mom, and Julie, the younger of Dave's two sisters, it's more clear than ever how fortunate I am that he had such a loving life growing up (surrounded by oh so many women) and how helpful it is now to have their support and affection in our lives. Plus, Kathy can make more delicious baked goods than I can name here and Ju does an amazing Tina Turner impression. What more could I ask for?

Frohes Neues Jahr

Or, to translate, Happy New Year! We rang in 2008 with our family and friends in Dresden and things could not have gone better. We ate, drank, and made merry with our sisters, Dave's teammates and thousands of cheerful strangers. And although New Year's Day brought some tears when I had to say goodbye to my sister (again), I'm feeling great as I get another 12-months started.

We have a lot to be thankful for this year, as with every year, when we glance back over 2007. Dave won the Dutch National Championship with his team, we saw Paris and Barcelona, we were reunited with Falcor, visited family in Manitoba, spent the rest of a gorgeous summer in Marquette with our friends and family. We moved to Germany, started again, and marked our first year of marriage. Our family and friends have started new jobs, finished university, had babies, become married, and grown out and/or cut bangs. Our dog started wearing clothes.

As with every year, this year hasn't been without it's share of missteps, hiccups and fashion faux pas. When I turn back to look at where we've been I feel a twang of reminiscent sadness for the good times and some bitterness towards bad moments we endured. I feel a growing sense of joy when I imagine us moving forward with the best of intentions in a whole new year. Call them resolutions, call them decisions, call them the next logical step. Over time I've learned that we can't erase the mistakes that have already been written in our histories, but we can overwrite them with a darker pen. The shadow of the original words will always be there, but the newer, better font will be the first thing you see. Unless you get amnesia, which is more like just using white out on the whole paragraph.

Although sometimes I feel that we are the only people that have no idea what lies ahead on the path, a new year makes me realize that we are all in for a constant barrage of surprises...for the rest of our lives. Our surprises just come on a more predictable schedule for now. So, with that in mind, go start your diet/clean out your closet/hit the gym/be nicer to your neighbor or whatever you might have resolved to do. I've sworn off candy for a week...you're nuts if you think I'd ever do something so rash for a year...so wish me luck on the next 7 days of these next 365.