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If you're quiet, you're not living.
You've got to be noisy and colorful and lively.
Mel Brooks
Munich is masterpiece, a city in living color. I could tell you about these sights, but I think the pictures speak j u s t f i n e for themselves ~
No wonder I had such a wonderful time in 24 short hours--everywhere we turned it was noisy and colorful lively!
I'm curious...do you have a favorite photo?
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Back when I joined Vicks VapoRub for their Winter campaign, I had no idea a few months later I'd be in another country 5,000 miles from home. How in the world could I write a natural cough-and-cold-ish story that would support a product sold in the U.S.?
Well, a story fell slap in my lap when I discovered it's sold in over 50 countries outside the U.S., one of which is Germany!
My cousin, Ellie, has lived in Germany since the 80s, and a few weeks ago she and her boyfriend Walter came for a visit. Walter could tell a cold was sneaking up on him, so he brought a few remedies in case symptoms persisted.
GERMAN NOTE OF INTEREST: While aspirin and acetamiophen can be bought in Germany, they're behind the counter; stronger, "American" over-the-counter drugs require a doctor's prescription. And there are NO drive-through pharmacies!
In Walter's cough and cold arsenol was none other than a container of Vicks VapoRub ~ obviously used ~ still in its box.
"Walter..." I shouted (I did, I really did!), "You just wrote my blog post for me!"
Is it wrong that I delighted in the man's misfortune?
Somethin' tells me he didn't mind too much....
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I'm publishing this on Leap Day, a rarity on our calendar, a day to do something for someone else or just plain fun or super special or maybe just a bit out of the ordinary. Might you consider:
~ Liking Vicks' Facebook page and then send a virtual care package to one of YOUR FB friends who's under the weather.
~ Try a new recipe. Vicks' Nature Fusion You Tube Channel with hunky celebrity chef Curtis Stone features EASY, HEALTHY recipes to incorporate into your family's daily routine. The simplicity of Stone's homemade granola recipe has me wanting to try it.
~ Seth Godin has some lovely ideas; I'd say choose one or two, do 'em everyday for the next three weeks, and voilà! A new habit is born!
Your turn: True confessions! Are you a Vicks "huffer"? I'm not suggesting you use it inappropriately, but I've had several friends use that expression since I started writing for them! Don't feel like fessing up? Tell me your plans for Leap Day!!
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You could say the first city I visited in Germany was Munich since it's where our plane landed. As airports go, it was impressive--stylish, modern, A-list retailers and easy to navigate. But it was hardly the Munich I'd get to see when returning three weeks later for a quick road trip--
It began with a two-hour train ride--the first of many, I imagine. For only €31 ($41.58), up to five passengers can ride on the same ticket anywhere throughout Bavaria for the entire day (including bus and subways). 
February 24, 2012. Munich is the third largest city in Germany, the capital of Bavaria. According to Wikipedia, München is derived from Old High German, Munichen, literally meaning "by the monk's place;" Monks of the Benedictine order founded the city.
Steps of Feldherrnhalle in Northern Old Town, Munich. Sitting in front of a monument to the Bavarian army (designed by sculptor Ferdinand von Miller in 1892) and situated between statues of two stone lions and bronze casts of Count Johann Tilly and Karl Phillip von Wrede, Bavarian field marshals after whom the hall was named.
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Munich's charm, history, energy and distinguished architecture left my jaw dragging, tale-tell mark of virgin tourist. Best seen on foot, Munich invites a sensory feast, and I walked around like kid in a candy store. My spirit applauded everything I saw, heard, tasted, touched...and (sometimes) smelled.
I'm going to keep words to a minimum and let the pictures do the talking; if you'd like to know more about them, just mention the number in comments and I'll fill you in on the details.
1.
I didn't get the name of this building but the painting at its pinnacle is stunning; especially against the backdrop of an unexpected gift,
a cerulean February sky.
2.
Fresh flowers - reasonably priced and beautiful show; always the perfect gift for someone special (even if your someone special is YOU!).
3. 
One of two statues at the entrance of Deutsches Jagd- und Fischereimuseum, the German Hunting and Fishing Museum located in a former Augustinian church. Made me think of Pumba.
4.
Karlstor (Karl's Gate), western entrance to Old Town.
5.
All facing one direction - towards the sun - friends meet and strangers congregate every afternoon for a coffee or drink in Marianplatz.
6. 
The Baroque Theatinerkirche, impossible to capture
its magnificence in a photograph.
7. 
In Marienplatz, Neues Rathaus aka New Town Hall, where you can see almost life-size figures enact a joust and perform the Dance of the Coopers. Very touristy, but you must see this is you're here.
8. 
Gorgeous and expensive, I love these pewter cups, mugs and steins.
9. 
Cuckoo clocks might be kitschy, but goodness...I will *have* to have one before we head home for good!
10.
German bedding is one of the biggest differences we've discovered since arrival; there's no such thing as a king-sized bed in the American sense--there are always two twins pushed together! At our hotel, we needed two twins, anyway, and their linens were wonderful and mattresses extremely comfortable. Germans use duvets and covers in contrast to spreads or blankets...another little surprise to learn.
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There's so much to show and tell, I think I'll break this down into a few posts. If you have questions, please ask! All of this is a learning experience for me and I'd love to share what little I know with you! Keep those cards and letters coming (or comments and emails ;) ); it's nice to know the world IS small after all {smile}.
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People who need people,
Are the luckiest people in the world.
Music by Jule Styne, lyrics by Bob Merril, unforgettably delivered by Barbra Streisand
Sometimes I can't see the trees for the forest.
The big picture is plain enough, but I'm blind to trunks and limbs and twigs and leaves within touching distance.
With roots burrowed deep and scattered broad, 8½ years ago I moved from a place I still consider my hometown, despite not being born or raised there. It was in that town I journeyed newlywed years, worked vocation that married passion and purpose, birthed all my babies with other mama-friends doing the same, did my best to serve God and his family through way too much doin'...and became glued and glue to a friend-family that shared life in the best ~ and worst ~ of ways.
There's no telling how many meals I cooked and delivered for celebration and mourning.
After 14 years we moved to a new place, hours from home and hometown, and where we didn't know a soul.
We knew how to extend friendship and hospitality. We were initiators--always the initiators. In this, without realizing it, I think we had become prideful. We had also become weary and complacent and just needed to rest...
...a toxic combination.
It was inward-thinking navel gazing, bordering on pointless martyrdom.
It served absolutely no one.
It wasn't that we never had people over or hosted parties; but something about it was harder, much harder, than before. And though it's likely not accurate, it seemed like only one or two couples returned the effort and affection we offered to others.
But, here's the important takeaway--
One or two couples returned the effort and affection we offered to others!
Why was I focusing on the void instead of the fullness?
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A few years into our move to Tennessee, I began blogging. Though initially anonymous--even to my husband--eventually my blogging community grew to a diverse group of women and men. This was during the early years of mainstreamish blogging, before social media, blog conferences and monetizing were the focus, when people actually read and commented to blogs {knowing smile to long-time bloggers}.
My blog filled a friendship void in my life and I knew more about my online friends than I did about the people I was meeting in real life. Every blogger who commented to my posts received a reciprocal visit from me; I'd read their current post (or six) and thoughtfully comment to each one. I'd reply to every comment--my imaginary friends were a constant source of encouragement and I was grateful they'd take the time to read my words (that part is still true).
It took a lot of time.
My life was out of balance.
So one day I started withdrawing.
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The void, the plenty, the delights, the disappointments. Some things were a result of my choices (good or bad), others were unavoidable circumstance. All have had their role in maturing me.
One of my favorite passages in scripture is Ecclessiastes 3:1-8; my heart whisper-shouts its theme as a Martin Luther King, Jr. oration--
There is a time, there is a time! Thank God Almighty, there is a time!
I got word-slapped twice recently by two people who are close to me; my husband and a friend who loves me enough to tell me what she REALLY thinks. In one instance I was singing the dog-tired song about "how deep friendship was hard to find" and in the other, my friend flat out told me I was oblivious to those around me who were trying to do that very thing.
Over the years I had either grown too calloused from being hurt to notice or it was packaged differently than I expected or I misinterpreted the actions or motives or others or who knows what else?
I removed the stingers from the words of these two who love me, trusted that they spoke with my best interest in mind, sifted them through a reality sieve and recognized "truth" was relative, resting somewhere between their perspective and my own.
It's changed the way I see and receive the beautiful, amazing people in my sphere.
It is SO easy to appreciate and care about people who share a love for words, ideas and encouragement online (I have mad love for my readers and subscribers!); but there is absolutely no substitute for investing in the lives of friends where you live; say, the people who will help watch over your children while you jaunt off to Germany on some kind of crazy adventure for weeks on end.... who will feed your babies home cookin' and make sure THEY know someone's watching, even if mama and daddy are 5,000 miles from home.
No doubt, one of the coolest aspect to blogging is meeting those whom you've made real connection with through reading each other's websites and engaging in conversation on your favorite social networking channels. Blog conferences provide that opportunity, but often the barriers are monumental: financial, family, time, travel--all incur some type of cost that might prohibit attendance.
Not too long after (in)courage was launched, whispers were heard among readers (and writers) lobbying for a conference to bring the reading community together face to face, skin to skin, heart to heart.
Enter (in)courage and brilliant thinkers behind their scenes who imagineered (in)RL, a coordinated initiative to bring the (in)courage community together, but without the hassle and expense of travel. Instead, on April 27 & 28 readers are encouraged to host a meet-up in their own back yard, bringing together real life friends, perhaps virtual friends, and even folding newcomers into community.
Would you consider hosting an event? Small and intimate in your living room, at a local coffee shop or filling a church hall, everything you need to know is right here.
Yesterday, my soulful friend Ann wrote a beautiful piece about 4 Ways to be a Better Friend; tomorrow, a visionary friend, Stephanie shares her perspective on friendship, community, and why these hometown meet-ups matter. Please...visit their spaces to gain a broader perspective.
Even though I don't think luck has anything to do with it, people really DO need people ~ ❤
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Grit.
Add an "s" and it transforms into a wonderful, Southern breakfast side dish, best served with a lump of butter (never margarine), a sprinkling of salt and crushed pepper, and a smattering of crumbled bacon in every bite; and cheese, cheese is always an option. A close second, and truthfully, my preferred dish, is wonderfully creamy shrimp and grits, spicy with a hint of heat, but not so much as to over power the dish. The grits are delicious canvas for the rest of the meal, and they can make or break the entire thing if not properly tended.
Most people outside the South don't understand grits, as if a they were a thing to be understood.
Either you're a believer or you aren't, and I feel sorry for those who are trapped in the latter category.
I suppose for most people, "grit" conjures images of hang-dog determination and wrestling with or through the things that irritate the mind, soul or body, but for me, right now...5,000 miles from home, three weeks without touching the skin of my babies, and away from familiar comforts, the thought of a steamy bowl of Southern comfort brings a smile.
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My bizarre response to Lisa-Jo's Five Minute Friday writing prompt...I doubt anyone else will go this route!! Feel free to join her!
Photo credit: SouthernPlate.com
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Every time I walk out of my front door alone, I am afraid.
It's not that I fear for my safety, nothing like that. Leaving my little apartment, the one place I know in a foreign country, means journeying among the unknown.
It's uncomfortable.
It's unnerving.
And I'm always at a disadvantage.
The murmer of words that envelop me are foreign; what is white noise to me is symphony to everyone else.
When I gather a full enough cup of courage, I try their words on. They never fit. I wear them shyly, reluctantly, childishly, but they usually earn a sympathic smile from a stranger.
Bless my heart bless my heart bless my ever-lovin', Southern heart, in the ways that reek pity and deserve a tongue's cluck and a head shake.
I'm a toddler, a pre-schooler, speechless and wide-eyed; but I'm also an old dog, and new tricks are so very hard to learn.
I'm lacking the pre-schooler's bravado. Have you ever considered the courage it takes to be three? I haven't. EVERYthing is new! He has to learn everything from scratch. How to walk and talk and feed and clothe himself. Letters and numbers and how each one holds hands to mean something more! How to behave, how not to behave, what matters to whom, and how to play games...and how to play life.
Learning is way of life for a little. She accepts it, she embraces it, she doesn't resist it like an old dog. I bet Jesus said "Let the little children come..." because of this; learning, accepting, embracing as a child is as natural as breathing in and out. Wearying are the ones who curl up and turn deaf ear because they already know enough, or everything they think they need to know.
New sponge, porous and thirsty, ready to do its job; soaking up all that is poured out. Sponges are born learners; I always relegated them to lowly cleaning accessory but now I want to be a sponge.
I can't count. Never have I realized how important numbers are! I'm an easy mark inviting swindler's gain, but no one takes advantage. Time, cooking, weather, dining out, shopping--numbers stalk me at every turn. Stupid numbers.
"Stranger" and "alien" keeps coming to mind, it's how I'm called to live, right? Earth is my home for a wink and a blink, yet tight fist, white knuckled, I clutch it like it's forever. There's this eternal kingdom that's mine now and for always but I prefer digging my feet in this mud and mire.
Ludicrous. It doesn't make a bit of sense if I believe what I profess.
Fear not...! Right?
We turn to each other often and declare, "It's a gift!" and we mean it. The new job, fresh challenge, world travel, starting over. But left unsaid (but known to marrow and bone) is the cost to get here ~
struggle...
disappointment...
frustration...
void...
loss...
Shadows.
Shadows reveal sunshine. Shadows are worthy cost to see the sunshine; to feel and cherish and appreciate and savor the sunshine. Shadows magnify the sun. Without shadow wouldn't we take the sun for granted?
I'm learning some things about fear; it has two sides:
I don't mind being afraid.
I may not like the way it feels, but it has purpose, meaning.
It means my slumber has shaken and I'm a l i v e .
Dum vivimus, vivamus!
photo credit: diana parkhouse
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It has occurred only twice in one hundred years, during the winter of 1911 and again during this winter. The first was in a non-violent protest of sorts; the second a celebration and commemoration of the first.
SchneeKirche, translated in English, Snow Church.
Its singular beauty might have gone unknown to us had Deede, a fellow ex-pat from Tennessee, not invited us for a road trip to Mitterfirmiansreut, Bavaria, a small alpine town that shares Germany's border with the Czech Republic. About two hours away, it was more than worth the drive and price of admission.
Camera strapped on and rivaling the Abominable Snowman or Pillsbury Doughboy, I was ready. Tad paid the €5 for our tickets and we were on our way...
...if we could have only seen where we were going!
Visibility was about 25 meters.
We were told not to touch the ice sculptures and I thought, "WHAT ice sculptures?!" As our eyes adjusted to the thick fog, they seemed to appear when we were within touching distance.
Mitterfirmiansreut, Bavaria, February 2012. My best guess is this is a representation of God protecting SnowKirche; that seems to be the little shape on the pedestal.
Snow Church's welcoming committee, my favorite snow sculpture.
As our eyes carve through the fog, SchneeKirche comes into view.
In 1911 when the original SchneeKirche was constructed, villagers built it in protest because officials wouldn't build a church in their town; they were deemed too poor and rural. In order to worship, they had to travel a ways to a nearby town. During December of that year, Mitterfirmiansreut had heavy snowfall, preventing townspeople from traveling. They decided to take matters into their own hands, and constructed a church from the only materials available to them: snow and ice.
The winter of 2011/2012 marked SchneeKirche's 100th anniversary, so locals decided to construct a modern snow church in commemoration of their history. It opened in late December and they hope it remains intact through March.
Snow Church's interior, February 2012. My loose translation,
"Show some respect--stay off the stinkin' alter!"
l-r, LeAna, who works with Tad, me, Molly, a translator.
A close-up of Snow Church's icy "bricks," oddly my favorite picture of the day.
Learning a bit more, at least Molly is because she's fluent in German.
SchneeKirche was funded in part by local sponsors and cost about €70,000 to construct, so I'm not sure if this money is used for locals in need or somehow to maintain the structure.
Evidence we were here...at least until the ink melts into paper.
A nice little touch.
Hot, mulled wine, the perfect companion to our chilly tour. Not only is this the first time I've tasted Glühwein, it's the first time I ever HEARD of it! Apparently it's very popular during the winter in Germany (Europe?), especially during their famed Christmas markets.
I think our furry friend could have used a sip,
bless his little snow-faced heart.
Because it got crowded by the time I thought to video the interior, this isn't the greatest quality, but at least you get a three-dimensional idea of SchneeKirche's interior--
Currently, there are no plans to construct a snow church in future years; which makes it even more special to have discovered it and had the chance to visit!
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Before arriving in Germany, the only experience I had with a local butcher was Alice's long-term love interest, Sam, on the The Brady Bunch. He visited many a Friday night during my tween and teen years.
But drive through the Bavarian countryside, and you'll see a metzgerei ~ the German word for butcher ~ on every corner, around every bend...and sometimes in between.
Germans take their meats seriously.
If someone could please diagram and label the above, I'd be most appreciative.
And then, there's the bäckerei/konditorei...bakery and pastry shops. Otherwise known as "I died and have gone to heaven."
The second day we were in town, we were treated to a bread tasting. There was lots of information we never actually got to (umm, if you look closely, explanations of the grains were in German and we were TASTING more than we were being educated....).
The local bäckerei/konditorei is not limited to assorted breads...their desserts will make you weep with joy. Visual feasts, scrumptious eats.
And though I took this at another bäckerei, buttered pretzels are a very common German snack. And they're delicious.
I'm kinda in trouble...aren't I?
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I'm embarrassed to admit it, and its truth pains me, but I'm almost certain the people to whom I've spoken most hatefully are my own children and husband. I've wondered if I'm the only one who does this.
Why do the people I love most receive the worst treatment I have to offer? Thankfully, mean or impatient words are the exception, but with my upcoming extended separation from my children, I'm acutely aware of my propensity to speak in a less than loving manner; ironic, because I have such thin skin myself.
Two recent occurrences with my teen boys drove this point home--
• After my oldest son cleaned his room, I opened his closet door; it was no surprise his version of clean didn't match mine. Irritated, I began organizing and cleaning out the war zone, only to be discovered by him mid-way through. He braced for mama wrath, instead caught off guard by my calm (not typical) response. Before all was said and done, we were finishing the work together--happily. I hadn't even asked him to join me.
When children reach their teens, it's easy to think they're unaffected by harsh words. Don't be deceived—your words and tone can wound them deeply. Consider the following:
Thump on the head to ME! I forgot to link to my most recent Simple Mom post, most likely because I was airborne when it went live. I hope you'll click through to continue reading; it's relevant to parenting teens/tweens whenever you have time to finish.
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In November, my husband and I will celebrate our 25th wedding anniversary, which makes a recent revelation about him all the more surprising:
He's very German and must've been switched at birth unbeknownst to his mother, father or an entire hospital staff in small town Nevada, circa 1963.
We learned this about him while attending cultural training prior to our temporary move to Germany, and I must say, this explains a lot.
Christian Höferle (Höferle Consulting, highly recommended for inter-cultural training in the tri-state area) conducted the content-rich sessions, and early on we made the remarkable discovery based on Herr Höferle's characterization of German values:
Hello??? Is this not Tad Dance to a "T"???
So, it makes perfect sense that he would quickly experience a breakthough, and acclimate to a new job, culture and country with relative ease.
What I didn't anticipate (but in retrospect, should have given his newly-discovered German descent) was how committed he would be to The German Way. Since we arrived two weeks ago, the temperature has languished in single digits like it forgot how to count past ten! Since his first day at work, Tad has ridden a bike about 5K to his office.
Below-freezing temperatures aside, it also snowed last Tuesday; that snow was still on the ground when it began snowing yesterday, and though there have been brief respites, it has continued through today.
Only today we have freezing temps, a wet, sometimes heavy snowfall...and 30 mph 50 kph wind gusts!
A year from now I might just be married to a hard body....
~wink~
Can you hear the howl of the wind?
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