10 for 10 - Lukas at age 10...

Ten for ten. Ten things about my eldest son, Lukas, on his tenth birthday. Some highlight his personality, some are remembrances. Everything is just another thing that I love about him. I couldn’t have asked for a better, more fun son! (Check out the facebook photos I posted a few days ago as a companion piece)…

1. His birth was an all night affair. We arrived at the hospital ready for a marathon, then were tricked into thinking it was going to happen fast. Then, after they gave her the epidural, everything slowed to a crawl, and it turned into the overnight thing. By the end, it was actually boring, which is something I’d never think to say about a birth. He came out butt first (like his father) – not sure what that says about us. For those of you who are baseball fans, the Red Sox were in the midst of their exciting 2004 comeback against the Yankees, which would lead to their first World Series win in almost a century (back before Red Sox fans morphed into Yankees fans, and they were somewhat loveable). Not sure if this contributed to his becoming a baseball fan or not…

2. His love of family is immense. His heart is so big. It’s a great thing, most of the time. Occasionally, it sets him up for tough times (even the thought of one of his relatives passing away crushes him, and his imagination leads him down that path far too often for his own good). Still, just try and say something negative (or even questionable) about his Oma Judy. Or his mama. Or his brother. Kid does more than bristle. Borderline violent (not really – don’t want to make him sound psychotic – but he is not amused by such talk, I can tell you firsthand). Mostly, it’s all about the love, though. And he’s well aware that he has great family both here in Austria and back in the USA, for which he regularly expresses his gratitude.

3. My plan to raise him on classic films and classic rock has worked like a charm, so far. He absolutely loves the Marx Brothers and Charlie Chaplin. One of his favorite films is Some Like it Hot. We have enjoyed watching films from Hitchcock, Billy Wilder, Steven Spielberg, John Ford and more (No Tarantino yet. Saving that for another year…) Music-wise, he knows and likes the Beatles, the Rolling Stones and many other classic rock groups. I have taken him to see Paul McCartney in concert. And a version of the Doors with Ray Manzarek and Robbie Krieger. And the aforementioned Rolling Stones. And Santana. And Joe Cocker, Mannfred Mann, etc. We’ll get to the Floyd thing later…

4. He is a Royals fan. I’ve been taking him to the games whenever we are in KC since he was a baby, but it was a game that he attended in 2009 that made him a fan. It had it all. A packed house, an exciting opponent (the Boston Red Sox), a cheering crowd, his cousins were in attendance (Logan and Quinn), a stirring comeback featuring back-to-back HRs from the Royals and a 9th inning save, followed by Friday night fireworks. He’s been a big fan ever since. Since I’ve coached his little league team, they’ve been the Royals (they won the championship this season) and the one time he opened a completely random pack of MLB trading cards, he found one of his favorite player inside (Billy Butler). This season, we’ve followed and watched key games together, and I have woken him up to see the end of every playoff game (now I have to, because they keep winning with him watching)!

5. Since he’s been about 2 years old, I have been telling him goodnight stories about George and Ted. George is a young boy and Ted is his dragon friend. Their adventures take them pretty much everywhere. Liam is now a fan too.

6. He and his mother love each other fiercely, though they can’t help but clash. She’s a perfectionist who wants only the best for him, and gets frustrated when she sees him cruising instead of trying hard. He’s more laid back, and needs to be pushed to get things done, but bristles when he feels like it’s getting to be too much. They still have some great moments together, though, and it’s obvious to anyone on the outside looking in just how much they mean to each other. They enjoy playing board games together, wrestling (with Liam in the mix) and cuddling.

7. I can see most of my faults in him, and many of my good qualities as well. He’s not naturally athletic, but can do okay for himself with a little practice. Tough thing is, getting him to do that practice. He has his father’s natural tendency towards laziness that is only overcome through getting him excited about something (such as having me coach his baseball team) or through nonstop browbeating (yea! Fun!). He loves stories and movies and playing games and LEGOs and BBQ sauce and Halloween. He has problems with organization, and handwriting and seeing tasks through to the end. And he’s a bit of a picky eater. For some reason, those things sound familiar…

8. He is creative. He likes to tell stories, and is good at it. He likes to draw, but that’s never really been a strong suit. He likes to sing, and has a solid voice and a good ear. On the singing side, he has sung with a Pink Floyd cover band here in Austria, in a sold out venue (Another Brick in the Wall Part 2 – “We don’t need no education”), and has even performed with Roger Waters himself in front of 40,000 fans. He also sang with Greek recording star Vicky Leandros in the Votivkirche here in Vienna (3 Christmas songs in German).

9. I have turned him into a complete nerd. I can’t help it. It’s who I am. We play Dungeons and Dragons together, about once a week. Don’t judge us too harshly… (we also enjoy Risk, Axis and Allies, Fortress America, Chess, Clue, Monopoly, etc.)

10.Lukas is very aware and very proud of his American heritage. He is the only member of our immediate family who was actually born in the USA (I was an army baby born in Germany, Anita in Upper Austria, and Liam in Vienna), his favorite (junk) foods are American and he’s acutely aware that when we are in the US, we can go into any film together that we want to, while here in Austria they won’t allow kids into films that aren’t rated for them (this only came up once, ever, when he wasn’t old enough to go see “The Voyage of the Dawn Treader” here in Austria when he was 7 years old and the film was rated for 10 years and up. This still ticks him off to this day and is likely to be brought up each and every time we are headed out to the cinema.) I do my best to keep this America lovefest tempered by reality, to make sure that he understands that no country is perfect or always right, and to be sure that his love for America isn’t at the expense of his “other” homeland, Austria (which he also loves, but it’s hard to compete with the US when he’s always on vacation when he goes there, and Austria is the land of school, etc)

I could go on, talking about his friendliness, his open manner with strangers, his polite behavior in (some) social situations – but I promised to leave it to 10 things. Won’t ever get this posted if I keep going…  So, cheers! Here’s to Lukas. May the next 10 years be as enjoyable as the first 10.

Encounter with an onion: A tale of terror and misery

This one is not for children, or the faint of heart.

On Saturday, we held a movie night. Before the films, we ate chili, which once again necessitated my wife making two batches: one dumbed down, onionless version for her husband and one “normal” version for everyone else.  She does this because she had witnessed me at my least mature, which means she has seen me bite into a “sneaky” onion, and seen the disturbing effect it had on me.  You see, I hate onions.  Passionately.  The onion is the worst of the foods which I dislike, in large part due to the fact that people try to hide them away in just about half of the dishes that they cook.  Green peppers, which are about on par with the onion, taste-wise, in my book, don’t hide.  They’re boisterous, obvious additions to any dish, and thus are easier to avoid.  Not so with the onion…

This got me to thinking.  Reminiscing if you will.  I recalled one instance in particular, from many, many years ago, wherein my complete and utter disdain for this so-called flavor enhancer reared its ugly head at a particularly poor time and place.  I had been invited to a social gathering.  One where I knew the hosts, but not too well.  They were the type to truly entertain their guests, with well-considered appetizers and a plethora of drink options.  I arrived with a date, also not.  It wasn’t our first time out, but it was early enough that I had not yet exposed her to all of my quirks and foibles.  We mingled, drank sparingly, and took advantage of the tasty appetizers, my favorite of which were some tasty little mini-baguette pizzas.  Lightly browned cheese and a little salami or pepperoni on top.  Yummy. 

Still, I had envisioned more in the way of food, and my stomach was still rumbling a bit as we sat down at their dining room table to play some cards.  It was then that our hostess asked if anyone would like some more mini-pizzas.  Mine was not the only hand that shot up, and she removed herself to the kitchen to whip up a few more morsels.  By the time she returned, I was losing at cards and all too happy to take a short food break. 

The baguette that she handed me was different.  Longer, fuller and piping hot.  I didn’t care, taking the first bite with reckless abandon in what can only be described as a rookie mistake.  For about two seconds, I was in heaven, enjoying the melted cheese and crunchy bread, already wondering if there would be enough pizza for me to have another.  And then I bit into the onion.  That carefully concealed bastard.  It hid out beneath the cheese, long and slimy, just waiting to attack.  My gag reflex kicked in immediately, and it was all I could do to not spit it back out onto the table.  I stopped my bite, but it was too late.  The onion was in my mouth, working its evil magic on my defenseless taste buds. 

It was too big a bite to pull off the old “wash it down quickly with a drink” trick, and I couldn’t bring myself to chew any further, so I sat there, helplessly.  I turned away from my date as my eyes began to water, and took the only out that I had, snatching my napkin from the table and pretending to cough as I dislodged the offending hunk of pizza.  Yeah, pretty gross.  But not as gross as an onion, I say!  I quickly glanced about the table, sure that accusing eyes would be staring me down from every direction.  It wasn’t so.  No one seemed to have noticed my painfully immature reaction.  Certainly not my date, who smiled at me and gave my knee a little squeeze.  Even as I returned her smile, my mind was formulating an escape plan.  In my hands, the evidence sat, wrapped in a napkin.  On my plate, the rest of the baguette sat, silently mocking me. I needed to dispose of both.

I considered the kitchen first.  Surely there was a trash can there that could be easily located.  Under the sink, most likely.  But our excellent host and hostess continued to hop up and fill drinks, making a successful, undiscovered foray a shaky prospect.  Then the beer hit me.  No, I wasn’t drunk, but I needed to make a run to the toilet, and inspiration was hot on the heels of this revelation.  There would be a lock.  Maybe a trashcan.  Or the porcelain beast itself.  I could flush the evidence, and none would be wiser to my pathetic little reaction.  Of course, it never occurred to me to simply own up to the problem.  Perhaps oversell it a bit, with some reference to a mild allergy.  No, nothing would do but that I simply bull forward and convince everyone that I was a normal, onion loving guy.  Just like everyone else!

I waited for an opportune moment and slipped the remaining baguette off of the table and into my napkin.  Still good.  I then asked where the restroom was, but did not immediately get up to visit it, but instead sipped at my beer for another few, key moments until heads again turned away from me and back to the game.  Sure it was safe, I stood up and deftly hid the offending food and napkin as I walked out of the room and down the hall to the toilet.  I locked the door behind me, took a deep breath of relief and splashed some water on my face.  Everything was going to be alright…

But then, I panicked.  There was no trash can.  And the idea of flushing the food suddenly seemed a poor choice.  What if some floated back up?  Or worse, it got stuck?  I imagined a room full of guests, hovering around as our host plunged out the offending baguette, then all eyes slowly turning my way in accusation.  No, that would never do.  But I couldn’t just saunter back into the dining room with my napkin-wrapped pizza, either.  Then I noticed the window.  It was a small, frosted glass portal above the bathtub.  I did a quick mental calculation and assured myself that it was facing the back yard.  Pizza is all-natural, I reasoned.  It would soon decompose.  No one the wiser.  At least, no one who could pin it on me in front of my date.  I decided to go for it.  The window would only open a few inches, so I wasn’t able to give my evidence a good throw, but merely drop it out.  I closed the window, washed up and returned to the party, both my conscience and hands clean.

My first inkling of trouble came just a few short minutes later, when my date asked me to grab her another beer from the fridge.  For the first time, I walked to my hosts’ kitchen and noticed the sliding screen door.  The one that led out to their balcony.  Their balcony in the back yard.  I started to sweat.  My hands grew clammy and my heart sped up as I returned to the game.  Sure enough, not ten minutes later one of our players announced that he was “going out back for a quick smoke.”  Still, what was I worried about, really?  Surely one couldn’t see the pizza from the balcony.  Surely it was a full floor down, resting on the ground, comfortably out of view on anyone but the most intrepid backyard explorer.  But I had to know for sure.

Without a smoker’s ready-made excuse, I was forced to blurt out something about “joining him to check out the view,” which was another mistake, as it led to a full-fledged break in the action as a full four additional guests, including my date, decided that this indeed was a good idea, and they should tag along.

Crap.

I had about a three second head start.  I pretended not to notice that my date was one of the tag-alongs and sped up my gait, stepping out onto the wooden balcony barely a step ahead of the original smoker.  There it was.  There was the window.  There was that damned frosted window that I couldn’t see out of.  The window that opened not over the back yard, but over the impressively long balcony that ran most of the length of the wall.  And there was my pizza, sitting, accusing, in full view, in plain sight, not twenty feet away, atop a pot of bushy flowers.

Double crap.

I made some comment about the sunset and the woods.  Or maybe the trees.  Something.  Anything to draw away the attention of the persons who came clambering out onto the balcony after me.  And I slowly edged my way towards the pizza, taking care never to look directly at it, but always off in the distance, enjoying the view that I would have, on any other occasion, described as something between mediocre and pleasant.  My date kept right up with me, of course, matching every hesitant sidle, until we both stood directly in front of the pizza bush.  The others stayed in a cluster near the door, allowing me just enough breathing space to reach back with my left arm, while my right lay wrapped around my date’s shoulder, and grab at the pizza.  Eventually, I managed to knock it from its perch atop the bush, presumably to land behind it.  I dared not peek. 

The smoker finished.  The others decided that they’d had enough of the “view.”  Now was my chance to close this chapter once and for all.  I walked back into the house with my date, then mumbled some nonsense about “possibly forgetting my sunglasses.” Or maybe it was my wallet.  Some lame excuse to return to the balcony without her.  I ran to the bush, leaned over to grab the pizza beneath it, glanced about once more to be sure that there were no prying eyes about, and gave it a good heave towards the woods.  I don’t think it quite made it there, but it surely went far enough to avoid discovery until the next lawn mowing.  For a second, as it hung there in the sky, I imagined a crow sweeping down from the sky to pluck it clean from the sky and return it to the balcony, or perhaps fly straight into the kitchen with it.  But no such thing happened.  I was clear and free to continue my evening, sans worry.

Did I mention that I don’t like onions?

Christmas in the Swiss Alps

One of the things that I’ve really missed while living in Austria is a good old-fashioned family Christmas.  Yes, we do have family on this side of the ocean.  Too much family, it seems, to really involve them in the holidays.  We see them all, usually a week after the big day.  Or two weeks.  Whatever it ends up being, though, it’s more of a family get-together than it is a Christmas celebration.  Each of the brothers and sisters do those in a more self-contained way, so that’s what we’re left with as well.  Nobody’s fault, but I do miss meeting up with family and opening gifts, sharing time and eating a big meal on the 25^th…

This year, we decided to do things a bit differently.  We still lined up our annual Upper Austria visit for early January, but determined that spending a week or two with my sister and family in Switzerland would make for a much more “homey” holiday time than staying alone here in Vienna would.  Luckily, they were up for the visit.  Even more luckily, since the last time that we visited, they had purchased a chalet in Moleson, a little skiing area in the French speaking portion of Switzerland just a half hour from their home in Fribourg.  This “Alpine hut” was big enough to fit both of our families fairly comfortably, provided we didn’t find ourselves snowed in and going all Jack Torrence on each other (was going to go with the clichéd Donner Party reference, but decided to throw a curveball with something from “The Shining”, all credit to my brother-in-law Alex who first connected the two).

We drove.  A long and fairly tedious drive, punctuated by a couple of overnight stops (Upper Austria and just outside of Zurich with friends – Karin and Janadan), some fast-food meals in the car (just like America, yay!) and an intensely burning van that we were forced by traffic to pass by in Munich (even three lanes over the heat was intense).  Still, we arrived safe and sound midday on the 24^th, and were lucky enough to be able to drive all the way up the mountain (an intense snowfall the week prior had forced my sister Jessica and her husband Alex to trek all the way up the hill from the lower parking lot, which we were prepared to do as well).  Still, with all of our heavy, overpacked bags (A theme with us), and my decided lack of winter shoes that fit, trudging that last leg down the hill and along the snowy path and back up the stairs to the cabin… well, let’s face it; it sucked.  Still, any complaints I might have voiced were quickly put aside as I was met with the sweet, cherubic smile of my adopted niece, Chloe. Despite having never before met me, she greeted me at the door with, “Hi Uncle Joel.  I’m three years old.”  My heart melted.

Jessica, Alex and their son Justin had adopted Chloe from Thailand last summer, after years of agonizing waiting and false starts.  It was amazing to realize that this little girl had, eighteen months prior, been living in an orphanage halfway around the world, yet here she was, speaking French and English, separating the two and using them in the correct context better than most any of the bilingual children which I have been exposed to at that age.  And boy, was she a little firecracker.  A ball of enthusiastic energy that could charm the socks off of anyone she met.  Other than a day or two near the end when she came down with a low-grade stomach bug, she was absolutely a perfect little angel.  Don’t let anyone tell you differently.  Okay, maybe she and Liam fought a bit, but they both gave and took and always seemed to hug it out afterwards.

Anyway, we settled in to the cabin, which was a spacious, two-floor job.  Ground floor had a long, cold room for firewood and water heater, etc, and a living room/kitchen with a wood burning stove for heat.  Very effective.  Upstairs was divided into three rooms.  Two “bedrooms” and one converted living room/play room (and a bathroom, of course.  No outhouse experience in the Alps.  Brrr…) – all in all a very nice setup, and one that I had no intention of leaving at all until it was time to return to Vienna.  Christmas at Alex’s mother Christianne’s home?  Tempting, but I’ll be here on the couch reading a book.  Bring me some leftovers, will you?  Skiing.  YES!  When I was a teenager.  Now?  Not so much.  I’ll be drinking a hot tea.  Call me when you’re done.  Snowman?  Snowball fight?  Trip to the store?  No, nein danke, and no again.  I’ll be resting by the fireplace…

Well, the best laid plans and whatnot.  We all know how that story ends.  In fairness, the wife and kids did allow me to stay inside on a couple of occasions when I could well have joined them for some activity involving frozen water.  But they did drag me out for the aforementioned dinner, which was wonderful and graciously hosted by Alex’s mom and family.  And for some shopping.  And to a nearby spa (okay, with the hot water and whatnot that one was okay with me).  And for one or two snowball fights (Liam’s favorite game was to take the snowball and throw it over the edge of the balcony, presumably to hit some poor soul trudging past on the snow path below.  I enabled him). 

Okay, a brief pause from the narrative to add a few words about Switzerland, which I may or may not have discussed after our last visit.  First and foremost – beautiful country.  Really.  Goes without saying, but I’ve said it regardless.  Second – it’s expensive as (insert preferred curse word here).  Seriously expensive.  We dropped about 50 francs at McDonald’s, for (insert curse word) sake – which is currently 54 US dollars, btw.  Yeah, we ate at McDonald’s on the way home.  There’s no other non-restaurant options out there and the boys like it.  But oh, did we pay for it…  Groceries are a good 50% higher than here in Austria, where they’re not particularly cheap.  Gasoline, coffee, beer – just… everything is expensive.  Third – they have roundabouts, which I like.  But they’re not quite sure what to do with them.  I get the feeling that some Swiss guy went to England once on a weekend holiday and said, “Hmm – these roundabouts are great!  We should have some back in Fribourg, only I’d know how to make them better!” – and then was promptly put in charge of city planning.  They had double roundabouts, roundabouts that were basically hidden speed-bumps, roundabouts with two or three unmarked lanes – really, I expect to find some in the middle of the autobahn on my next visit, with the explanation that “We had 24 million francs leftover from our hidden McDonald’s taxes, but we were in danger of losing them if we didn’t spend them on roundabouts…”

Back to our regularly scheduled writeup.  We spent the last two days in Fribourg.  Jessica and Alex had someone wanting to rent the cabin over New Years Eve, and the money was too good to pass up, so we joined them in their apartment.  It was a bit tight, but we managed.  The weather turned ugly on us, so we basically stayed inside, enjoying access to the internet after a week away and playing with all of the kids’ homebound toys.  For the late night holiday, we managed to get away with a couple of catnaps (Liam slept maybe 15 minutes in the evening and I napped through half of “Rapunzel” while sprawled out on the couch) – but everyone was awake from 11pm onward and we rang in the New Year with style (Alex had bought some indoor firework things which popped open and spilled out little party favors across the room, piñata style.  Kids loved ‘em).  They also were each given a sparkler to use on the balcony, then took turns imitating your humble author as he shouted out across the enclosed valley, causing a general racket that the staid Swiss could only match by means of firecrackers and other such noisemakers.  Great fun!

 The trip was over all too soon.  I could’ve used twice that long getting reacquainted with my nephew Justin, who has turned into a great little guy to hang with (really enjoyed him teaming up with Lukas to take me on in a game of NBA Jam on their Playstation) but can be dangerous (see Lukas’ front teeth – filed under: Dangers of wrestling with your cousin).  And he’s industrious when it comes to LEGO building – put together the huge Pirates of the Caribbean ship that he got for Christmas in about three hours with only minimal assistance from his cousin and his Uncle Joel.  And Chloe, of course.  Could have used much more time with her.  She took a shine to all of us, I think.  Quick to smile.  Quick to cuddle on the couch.  Quick to tattle on her cousin Liam for the tiniest of infractions.  Really a pretty darned amazing girl.  Jessica and Alex were, as always, gracious hosts and fun to be around. 

Our trip home was uneventful.  This time we avoided the burning automobiles of Germany, but we did travel through the mountains, including one amazing tunnel over 14 kilometers long, and we did suddenly find ourselves in Lichtenstein, which is not easy to do.  Then we blinked and we were past it.  Another overnight with friends in Upper Austria before a short mid-morning drive home.  Home to Vienna.  Home to cold, snow, and more cold.  By the next weekend we were setting out again for the holiday gathering in Upper Austria, but this time it was different.  It was okay that it was more reunion than Christmas party.  Because this year we had already celebrated Christmas with family.  In Switzerland.  And it was good enough to drag a blog out of me, and that should tell you something right there!  Cheers!

Liam at 11 (months, that is)

So, let’s face it.  Most of the face time on my blogs is taken up by 1: yours truly and b: Lukas.  Sure, I mix a little Anita in there on occasion, and the youngest one gets at least the occasional passing mention.  But it’s hard to devote as much space to him.  His sort of cute transfers better to photos, most of the time.  Still, it’s worth scribing some of this stuff down now, before I forget it.  Lord knows he’ll be a completely different person again when he turns one!

• He’s fast.  Scary fast.  And sneaky.  The combination makes it tough to anticipate where one needs to be before he hurts himself or others.  He’s still crawling.  Sometimes in that low, army crawl that he perfected a few months back, sometimes in your standard hands and knees style.  And both are fast.  But his hands are faster.  Don’t believe me, just pick him up.  Hold him anywhere near your face and wait for the pain.  More than one person has been “marked” by this cute kid, when his fingernails got a bit too long.  But it’s the sneaky that makes the fast so dangerous.  He’ll really wait you out.  If he recognizes that you’re keeping him away from something, he naturally wants that thing.  But he won’t push it.  He’ll try once, maybe twice.  Then he’ll lie low.  Pretend to forget.  Lull you into a false sense of calm.  And then, when he’s sure you’ve forgotten, a lightning strike.  All too often, it works.  Because he’s fast.  And sneaky.
• He likes music.  Rock music in particular gets his attention.  He’s going to be my Zeppelin guy…
• He shrugs his right shoulder.  Kind of randomly.  Something he started a couple of months back.  Kind of like a nervous tic, but it all too often looks like he’s responding to something around him.  “Liam, how are you today?”  Shoulder shrug indicates “Eh, not too shabby.  You?”  It’s quite amusing.
• His teeth are coming in.  This makes him cranky.  He’s usually a very sweet baby (toddler?  Not yet, I think, but soon).  But the pain makes him cranky.  Mostly at night.  He’s not such a great sleeper anyway, but the teething is making a bad time worse.
• Fun story.  Put up a “Baby gate” in front of the computer room for a couple of days.  There were little Lego pieces all over the floor, etc, and I needed to control access.  Naturally, Liam hated this idea.  He would come to the gate and bang on it to get my attention, wanting access.  After it had been up a few days, he got another bright idea.  He was eating a piece of bread, part of a large pretzel, I think.  Anyway, he held onto it and crawled over to the gate.  When he was sure I was watching him, he deliberately reached his arm out over the gate and dropped the bread on the other side.  “Oops, papa,” he said (okay, it was all in the eyes, but I swear this is what he was thinking), “I have dropped my bread and must be allowed into your office to retrieve it.”  I reached over, picked up the bread and gave it to him.  Annoyed, he waited a beat, then repeated the action, again looking to me to allow him into the room.  After the third time, I tossed the bread.  I’m no fool…
• He loves to people watch.  Put him in the stroller and roll him around outside, where he can see a lot of people doing a lot of things and you have one happy boy.
• He loves his brother.  You can just see him light up when Lukas enters a room.  And anything and everything that Lukas does is just hilarious to Liam.  Laughs his little head off, that one does.

I’m sure that I could go on, but I’d like to bring a blog in with a reasonable word count for a change.  So, that’ll do it for now.  I’ll try to work a bit more Liam stuff into the general read whenever possible…  Cheers!

Parental visit part V: Nuremberg, the final chapter

Yes, that Nuremberg.  Famous now not for their cute little sausages, or their historic old town, but for trials and rallies and all things Nazi.  It’s a part of their past that I’m sure the locals would love to forget, but it will likely always be there.  Still, there’s much more to Nuremberg today than its part in Germany’s darkest chapter.  For one thing, it gave birth to yours truly, which has always granted it a special place in my thoughts.  For another thing, it’s a truly pretty, fun city to visit.  The old town, at least, which is the only part that I’ve gotten around to in my two visits there (not counting those initial nine months, that is).  Not sure how much of the city Dad got around to visiting back in the day (he spent most of his time either at the base at nearby Grafenwöhr or driving about the countryside and down to Salzburg, it seems.  Probably best let him fill in those details sometime).

We took the train into town, then checked into our hotel, a nice but extremely overpriced Le Meridian right next to the station (used leftover hotel points from my Krakow work days – nice to have those come in handy after all this time).  It was to be a two night stay, and we would be meeting up with our friends Todd and Melanie, whom we met in Kansas City and who moved back to Germany a year or two back (She’s German, he’s ex-army and is now apparently working freelance in Iraq most of the time, so is rarely home.)  Besides that, our only real agenda was to see the sights (again sticking to the old city, which in Nuremberg’s case is fairly easy to do as the whole thing is surrounded by a nice big stone wall).

It was an afternoon arrival.  We unpacked, unwound, then headed in to the center.  Our first stop was St. Lorenz Church.  We didn’t go inside, but merely made it a meeting point for Melanie and the girls.  As we were a bit early, we toured the nearby streets, indulged in some great roasted (and sugared) peanuts, macadamia nuts and cashews, and just generally got a feel for the place.  It was a lively setting.  Lots of tourists from all over, booths and tents set up for general browsing.  The weather was cool and pleasant.  I was almost sorry when six o’clock rolled around and we met up with the Strobels for dinner plans (nothing personal, Strobels.  Just a measure of how much I was enjoying the meandering).

Once Melanie arrived, we headed over to a local restaurant (forget the name) and settled in for some of the famous Nuremberg brats (small in size, I liken them to American breakfast sausages in many ways – love ‘em!).  The food was good, the company enjoyable, the wait interminable.  Seriously, even by lax European standards these guys were SLOOOOW.  And it’s not like the place was packed, quite the opposite.  All I can figure is that, when we arrived and ordered, they decided it was time to start the grill, and then they went about it the old-fashioned, boy scout way – rubbing a couple of sticks together!  Afterwards we took a short walk, grabbed some ice cream, and enjoyed the sights.  As we parted ways, we agreed to meet up again on Thursday, as Todd was supposed to be back in Germany and wanted to be a part of things.

The next morning we headed out for breakfast at a little nearby café, then toured some more.  We had no grand designs beyond seeing the castle, and possibly a dungeon underneath the old city hall.  I spend most of my time (as I had during the evening stroll before) looking for likely spots to employ my Mr. Bill toy.  I had picked up this replica of the popular Saturday Night Live character from the late 70s when last in KC, but hadn’t fully recognized its potential until my Dad asked me what photos I had taken with it.  Since that time (mostly during the last Upper Austria trip), we had been amusing ourselves by placing the poor little guy into dangerous situations and snapping his photo.  Lukas was helping, naturally.  I mention this only because I fully intend to upload the results, and figure that a little explanation wouldn’t hurt…

We hit the castle a bit before noon.  It is truly a great looking castle, IMO.  Just the right blend of impressive towers and imposing walls.  Not one where a lot of interior viewing is available, though.  We did the “tour”, and it consisted of seeing some medieval weapons and then going to hear about their impressively deep well.  Afterwards we climbed the tower and took a number of snapshots from every angle (Yes, I did make it to the top and yes, I did think I was going to die.  Might, just might mind you, might be time to hit the gym.  Maybe.)  Lukas and I conspired to get him up on top of some lofty rocks and take a few photos, and we used the baby as another prop whenever the opportunity presented (well, they’re not good for much else at that age, are they?  J).  

Next was a bit of souvenir shopping, followed by another meet-up with the Strobels.  This time Todd joined us, and it was really fun to see him interact with the girls, who had obviously missed daddy while he was away.  I haven’t said much about the girls yet, so here’s as likely a place as any.  Hannah is, not surprisingly, turning into a very cute young lady (after being a very cute little girl, I should add).  She’s getting a bit of the teen ‘tude, but not so much that one can’t enjoy her company.  Helena, who was a baby the last time I saw her, was cute as a button.  I didn’t see much of that side the first night, but during the second meeting all of her inhibitions dropped and she sat on everyone’s lap, chatted up a storm, and generally showed off an impish personality.  Definitely made me think about trying for a daughter of my own, I must admit…

After Anita was conned into turning some sort of fertility ring (don’t ask, I didn’t) by Judy, we set off for a festival a few blocks over, wherein we grabbed a table and proceeded to down a sampling of ribs and steaks, sausages and potatoes, and possibly imbibed a few brews along the way.  Much deliberation was given as to what to do afterwards, and we split into groups.  Melanie and Hannah went to find a quiet spot to get some homework done and the rest of us hiked around the western side of the old town, viewing Alfred Durer’s house, some more ugly statues (which seem to be quite popular in Nuremberg for some unknown reason) and finally some classic houses.  No way to convey the looks of these properly.  Just go see the photos if you haven’t already!

Todd and I then, somehow, talked our way into a further splintering and promptly took off for O’Shea’s, the local Irish pub, where we nabbed an outdoor table, smoked Cuban cigars that he’d picked up in Iraq, sipped Irish whiskey and chased them both with some Guiness.  Tough life, I know.  The rest met up with us shortly after the smoke cleared and we enjoyed a decent pub-style dinner, though the fries were a definite weak point.  I thoroughly enjoyed having a conversation with someone who could really relate to my own situation (not so many KC guys married to German-speaking wives who have moved their families halfway around the world, even among my varied expat community).  After dinner we said our goodbyes, then headed back to the hotel.  It was a thoroughly enjoyable evening in, where the boys stayed with their grandparents for a while.  And that’s all I’ll say on that matter…

Thursday was our return date, but we had a bit of time to kill before our train was scheduled to depart.  Well, it was a lot of time (4pm ticket time), until one factors in our slow, gentle wake up, and even slower time to get ready and get out for another breakfast, then back to pack.  Still, we found ourselves with a few hours to kill/fill, and tried once more to fit in the dungeon tour (after another enjoyable bratwurst lunch at a restaurant which had their grill up and running even before we arrived…).  The dungeon was suitably dank and creepy.  I, of course, remember very little of what was said, even though my German is now good enough to catch most of the presentation.  I was too busy finding new and exciting photo opportunities for Lukas, Liam and Mr. Bill.  Hey, it’s not every day that one finds oneself in a dungeon!

Not much more to tell.  We caught the train home.  Dad and I got off and Linz and drove the rest of the way to Vienna.  They were here for several more days afterwards, in which time we threw the first of about a half dozen birthday parties for Lukas’ sixth.  Then it was time for departure.  The house needed taken care of back in Weatherby Lake, and Logan and Quinn were undoubtedly looking forward to Grandma and Grandpa’s return, not to mention Grandma Betty and Grandpa Glenn.  Still, it was a good test run.  I think that when they return in 2012 (okay, maybe 2013) we’ll really be ready to rock!

Parental visit part IV: More Vienna, the Wachau and a second trip to Upper Austria!

Okay, this is turning in to Tolstoy, so I’ll try to keep things at a reasonable length.

We were back in Vienna and once again enjoying the sort of days that saw me at the keyboard in the computer room, hacking away (work stuff – not my writing – I’ll leave it to others to throw the “hack” label at me on the writing) while the others enjoyed the fun in the sun (or more likely fun in the shade – not much sun in Vienna this time of year) outside.

Again, there are some good photos out there to see what all was going on, including a day out at the Prater and more time in cafés and parks.  Really, the only outing that I’m qualified to discuss over those days in Vienna was our trip to the Wachau.  The Wachau is a wine region along the Danube, near to Vienna, which has a number of small towns in it, each with a number of heurigers (mentioned before I’m sure, but a heuriger is like a winery/restaurant that only sells its own production.  It’s more complicated than that, naturally, but I’m not in the mood to go into all of the history right now, so that’ll do).  After spending an inordinate amount of time trying to book a boat ride on the river, finding most of them closed for the season and finally settling on an option that was short and sweet, but required us to ride out to the region via train first (which Anita naturally turned into a money saving deal – she’s damned good at that, given a little time). 

We started at Krems, which I had apparently visited before but forgotten completely.  And it was no big loss of memory.  Okay town.  Nothing wrong with it, and it has the wine thing going for it, but it wasn’t anything special.  Not compared to Durnstein, the second town on our visit.  Durnstein was in many ways still a medieval town (all right, maybe not medieval, but damned old).  It had that classic feel to it that San Gmingnano in Italy did (see some of my OLD blogs and photos to check that amazing town out).  If I loved or even liked Apricots, it would’ve been even better, as the local fruit dominated whichever stores weren’t selling wine first and foremost.  Even so, I thoroughly enjoyed the look and feel (despite a strong touristy bent) of the town.  Didn’t hurt to find out that this was the place (or the ruins of the tower above the town) where the Austrians held Richard the Lionhearted for ransom.  Gotta love a history bit involving Robin Hood’s king J.

Somewhere about this time, the visit stopped being enjoyable for me, as we found ourselves racing down to the riverside, then up and down the bank trying to find the boat that we had booked.  Then came a series of small events in which I apparently failed to do anything right, including not liking champagne (bubbly, overrated stuff that I only choke down on New Years Eve because it’s expected.  Give me a nice Barolo any day) and smoked salmon bread (love cooked salmon, just don’t like it cold.  Never have, but on this day that was an issue again for some reason).  Anyway, by the time it was all said and done, I was more than ready to get out of there and head home (several sulking photos of me on the boat are out there somewhere, and that’s the “story” behind them).  Dad and I did another pub quiz in the evening, which restored my mood somewhat (though we didn’t win this time), and that’s about it for the Vienna piece!

We then set off again for Upper Austria, packing for a two-part trip that would eventually see us traveling to my birth city of Nuremberg, Germany.  But first, it was back to family time.  The others set off on Saturday, while I stayed overnight in Vienna to work and met them on Sunday.  We were all set to take the old fashioned steam engine train from Aschbach to Steyr with Anita’s sister Poldi and family (Julia, Katrin and Martin), minus papa Markus.  Sibling number seven joined up with us – Gerti, along with hubby Hubert and their two girls, Jana and Lilli (yeah, I know.  You need a scorecard to keep up with my blogs.  Still, they’re all out there in the photos, so they deserve at least one named mention apiece, ya dig?).  The train ride was fun, with Lukas, Martin and Jana heading outside at every opportunity (and who can blame ‘em, as the ride itself was bumpy as hell). 

Steyr is another beautiful Austrian town (most of them are, you may have realized by now), with a great view overlooking the river and a nice old town section.  We walked it, ate pizza and ice cream, took turns carrying the baby, took lots of photos, and ended up at a playground where we whiled away the last hour or two until the return trip was scheduled.  A few more photos followed by a ride back which was highlighted by a trip to the refreshment car and an attempt to drink wine on an aggressively bumpy train ride (at least I was smart enough to get the white)!

Monday we went to Gmunden.  Say it with me… “Another beautiful Austrian town” – where Gerti and family live.  I’m sure I’ve chronicled it before.  The picturesque (albeit freezing cold even in summer) lake, the swans, the ducks, the classic architecture, the city square, the ice cream…  Not trying to make it sound any less great than it was/is, but we didn’t really do anything except walk along and take some photos.  Afterwards, we met up with most of the family (really, it was a big, big group) at a restaurant where Anita’s niece Manuela works.  They’ve got a great view, which they take advantage of with a “one way see through” toilet/outhouse.  Yeah, an outhouse with a view (photos are in the “Upper Austria” album, for those of you with a strong constitution and a sly sense of humor).  The dinner was predictably enjoyable, with good food and great company.  Anita’s dad, Karl, joined us, then snuck off to pay the bill (really reminds me of my grandpa Glenn in many respects, and that’s a compliment of the highest order around these parts).  Everyone had a schnapps shot or two (except yours truly, who had a beer already and was driving – see, I can be responsible too, in a pinch).  Then we finished off the evening by strong-arming Manuela into getting her guitar and singing for us!

Okay, I think I’ve got it whittled down to one more installment (which is great, because I really should be moving on to documenting Halloween fun by this point in time)!  Up next, the final chapter of Dad and Judy’s visit – Nuremberg!