Meeting New People...Breath...

I went to someones house for dinner yesterday. I didn't know them. They were Z's friends. I was so nervous. I didn't know what we would talk about and I suddenly forgot all of my German manners so I whipped out a German customs book and read through the short paragraph about visiting a German's house. I mean seriously you would think I haven't been in a hundred German houses. But I guess it had been awhile since I'd visited a strangers house. So we ran across the street because we forgot to buy flowers earlier, settled on some nice chocolates and waited for them to pick us up. (we don't have a car and apparently they lived pretty far away.)

So we walked in the house. I met the wife and asked in perfect German if I should take my shoes off. She said I could leave them on. I was surprised. I guess I didn't need to put on nice socks after all. Then we sat on the couch and they were chatting a bit. And they served quiche! Yum! And we played Skip-Bo and I won, cause for some reason that's the only game Z and I played together for the first 5 years of our marriage.

Oh and the advice I got from the crappy customs book told me that they would not give us a tour of their house and don't offer to help with the food. They did give us a tour of the house, so now I'm wondering maybe I should do everything opposite of what the book says.

An Excuse to Just to Be

Today I played frisbee with two teenagers from my church. It was really cloudy, the grass was way too tall and wet. It didn't take long till our feet were soaking wet. The bottom part of my jeans was really wet too. I mean honestly, it wasn't the best game of frisbee. We wanted to play ultimate frisbee, but had to settle for frisbee golf, cause there was only four of us. So after playing frisbee for an hour we sat down on a log together. We were just talking about the two weeks of camp that we had just gotten back from, about future plans the boys had. I was sitting there with soaking wet feet and I just thought for a second, "I want a picture of this moment. I want to remember this." The weather wasn't great, the game was only so so, the hour we spent together just talking was great. Sometimes I think we plan these events just so we have the excuse to be together. I think it's worth all the planning.

This post makes up for me not writing anything for the past two months. Enjoy.

I have been ignoring my blog. Why, cause I'm a busy person. And because my husband is sitting next to me clicking on stuff on reddit and saying look at this cute penguin. I swear I can barely type up a sentence. Lets see, in the past two months I've done pretty much the same stuff I do every week, except I did go back America for 2 weeks. We went to a wedding, which I missed, because my nephew wanted to show everyone that we was 2 years old and that being 2 actually is terrible. So I took him out. (hold on I'm looking at a picture of a cat playing poker.) My aunt visited me in Germany. She took me to a zoo where I petted a lemur. I've had tons of visitors, so I've been showing people around. We had some Americans visit our church. I volunteered to show them around our town, cause it's really pretty. It ended up raining that day, but it's Germany, so that's really nothing new. So we were walking them through the town and they were so miserable in their cloth Tom shoes. (not made for rain) So anyways, I forget stuff about american culture. Like when you stay in a hotel across the street from wal-mart you still have to drive there, cause there's no traffic lights for pedestrians and also no sidewalks. And I've recently realized that Americans don't walk in bad weather. Yes I'm sure there's exceptions. Like for a romantic scene at the end of a movie, or when you're having a mud fight, or when you have to park really far away from the mall. So if you come and visit me I'll probably make you miserable and walk a million kilometers in the rain. And you'll hate Germany, and I'll have no idea why.

Ok I really shouldn't post this, cause one it's late and two I'm going through that phase of culture shock where you love everything about the culture you're in and get annoyed with your own birth culture. So, if you stay with me thanks. I'm going to get through this. And besides I always love American food the mostest.

At the safari where I pet a lemur, there was a monkey cage where if you came in with a backpack the monkey would jump on your back and open it like a professional pick pocket. It was awesome...I'm probably only saying that, cause I didn't have a backpack. But then again I didn't get to hold a monkey on my back. Pluses and negatives.

The New Swear Words

Swear word change. When I was a kid, swear words were the words that you weren't supposed to say in front of really holy people cause you'd offend them...and probably get kicked out of elementary school.

One time when I was a teenager, I was running late and I thought my parents had left without me. I ran down the stairs and only saw my brother, so I said, "Oh crap, did they leave without me?" I looked a little closer and realized that my mom was standing there too. She had heard me say crap. Oh man was I in trouble. Mom asked me, "Do you know what that means?" I giggled and told her no. That day my mother didn't tell me what crap meant. But it's ok I already knew.

The new swear words are, oh man i can't believe I'm actually going to write these on my blog, but here it goes. "Buffalo Chicken Wings, Taco Bell, El Toros, dill pickles, and soft gooey chocolate chip cookies." Uhg, I can't bare it. Those words are forbidden in our house. You want to know why? Cause those are all of the foods that I can't get anymore. Just hearing those words when I'm hungry make my mouth water. I remember wanting food or being hungry for food when I was in the USA, but now how I miss spicy Mexican food doesn't even compare. Oh sigh.

But honestly those things aren't that important. I mean while I'm grumbling because I can't have a sour dill pickle I'm hearing the same grumbling that the Israelites where doing in the wilderness. God was providing them with manna everyday. He fed them everyday, but they got sick of it and they complained. God did end up giving them the meat they were begging for, but it's like when a spoiled child begs for a toy at the store and the parent just gives in to make the kid shut up.

I mean seriously, what do I sound like to God? Do I say my prayers and say thanks before dinner, but really the whole time I'm thinking, I've had such better food? Do I sound like a spoiled rotten kid that only wants to eat what I want to eat? The answer is yeah sometimes I do.

Prisoners and Thug Kids

Recently, we had a nine active prisoners visit our church. It was kind of a scary thing. Yes our church agreed to it, yes it was my husband, Z, that was behind the whole thing, but scary for a 20 something year old girl. Z knew all the prisoners that were coming, so I comforted myself with that knowledge. I went to church a little nervous and little hesitant about the whole situation. So when I was at church I prayed that God would protect us all today. Everything was fine at church. The guys were really nice and normal even.

Later that day Z was in town and wanted to know if I would meet him downtown so we could go on a walk. It was one of the first gorgeous days of spring. So I was riding my bike downtown. I came to a crosswalk where I needed to wait for the light to change so I could cross. I stopped a distance from it because there was a group of four teenager boys that kind of looked tough. As I stopped one of them approached me and asked me something. That alone was kind of weird. Usually strangers don't talk to me here. What I thought he said was, "McDonalds." I figured he meant where's McDonalds. So I answered him. Then something weird happened. The four guys surrounded me. It was totally awkward and I really didn't know what was going on. I wanted to be friendly, but I'm not so good at small talk in German. But I noticed that the traffic light had changed, so I said excuse me and was on my way. As I rode away they started to laugh. I figured they were laughing at my German. I must have said something ridiculous or maybe just my accent. Then I noticed an angry Z across the busy road. He had seen the whole thing and asked what they said to me. Totally naive I told them they wanted to know where McDonalds was, but they laughed at me, so now I just don't know what they wanted. And the more I thought about it the less likely it was that what they wanted to know where McDonald's was.

Apparently as I rode away one of them had pretended to smack my butt and little did they know that my husband had watched them do that. Part of me thinks it would have been awesome to see those kids face if they really would have smacked my butt. Can you imagine what those kids would have done when a big muscular angry husband came to kick their butts??? That would have been AMAZING! Like a movie or something. But lets focus on God. He is always looking out for me. I don't know why when those kids circled me and I was able to get away so easily. I don't know why they didn't take my purse and bike. But thought back to that morning where I was surrounded by scary prisoners and asked God to protect us. He did, and He never stopped. It's strange to me that I was doing something so ordinary, something I do daily and wasn't thinking I needed God to protect me at that moment, but He did it anyways. He even had a back up plan in case I was too dumb to ride away.

Another and hopefully my last airport story

As I was traveling back from Germany to America after my first six months here I was so excited after a long trip to see America again. I was so excited to go back and be able to order pizza without any struggles or unwanted extra attention. So my husband and I got off the plane with our custom forms filled out and standing in line with all the other Americans! I was thrilled! Like kiss the floor excited! All smiles! My husband was not so happy. He had a cold and when you fly with a cold it's a miserable experience. His ears where all clogged up so every time he would say anything he would yell it.

This was my very first experience with going through customs. (When you enter Europe you barely notice that you went through it.) So we went up to the desk with out filled out form and handed it to a very stern woman. She said, "You didn't put a date." I said, "Oh sorry, what is the date? She replied, "15 March" By the way she said it you would have thought I just asked if it was ok if I brought a 10 oz bag of Marijuana with me. So I went to write the date. When I was in Germany I had learned to write the day first and then the month, but now that I was in the USA I reminded myself to write the month first then the day. The customs lady was pissed about that. She gave me a look that was meant to put the fear of the United States government in me. It did. She told me as if it were of the utmost importance and I had broken a major law, "I told you the day first then the month." Uuuhhhh...ok sorry lady. Luckily she let us in despite the horrible thing I had done.

We went to claim our baggage so we could put it right back onto another baggage claim belt. (I don't get the point of that.) As we were walking I was still totally excited and my husband looked like a zombie, the security stopped him to ask him a few questions about what he was bringing into the country. He could barely hear anything. They'd ask a question and he'd yell his response back to them. I told my unaware husband that he was yelling his answers and the security guys just glared at me. Oops, controlling wife, not a good look for me.

We got rid of our bags and went through the medal detectors. I flew through them, since I had practical slip on shoes and no belt, while my husband had on a belt, a watch, quadruple knotted tennis shoes. Every time we went through security I was always way faster and I guess in a hurry to get to the next place. So finally he was getting sick of it! I was getting ready to bolt to to find some of that amazing American food that I missed and he's trying to put his belt on, and he yells at me, "Why are you always running away from me when my pants are falling down?" He had no idea that he had yelled till he noticed curious eyes staring at him.

Ok just so my he doesn't feel so alone, what's something you've blurted out and wish you could take back?

Travel Tips

We went to Rome five years ago. We went with one of those super cheap airlines--Ryan Air. They can shuttle you around Europe for like 25 euros a ticket. I found out the flight was only going to take an hour and a half. So I decided to forgo my usual motion sickness medication. I figured the stuff makes me so drowsy and it was such a short flight it wouldn't matter. Of course when we got in the plane I started to get nauseous. One of the stewardesses came around offering drinks. I asked for sprite hoping it would settle my stomach. She handed me a miniature sized can and cup and then said, "That's 3 euros." We were like what? Since when do we pay extra for drinks? We begrudgingly handed over the money. The rest of the flight the stewardesses walked up and down the aisles selling everything. Alcohol, weird little toys that looked like they were made out of rubber bands, cologne, and who knows what else. We tried to tune it out. We were smarter now. We were fast learners. They were even selling bus tickets into the city, but we already lost 3 euros on a tiny Sprite, we weren't going to be tricked again.

So we got to the airport in Italy and were trying to figure out how to actually get to Rome from this airport. We went to ask a lady behind a desk. We stood in line and Z, my husband, went ahead and asked in German if she spoke English. (Yes, we were in Italy) The lady looked at him oddly and said, "I speak German and English, which would you prefer." We chose English, because this was really before we actually spoke German. We found out we should have purchased our bus tickets on the plane because they were cheaper there. So we lost a few more euros, but bought our tickets.

We got on the bus and we were both eager to see a bit of Italy, but I was feeling really nauseous from the plane ride. I was so dizzy from the trip, and I had such a bad headache I just kept my eyes closed for the 20 minute ride into town. Z was having a great time. He would tell me every once in a while to open my eyes to look at a ruin, then say "oh sorry honey I guess you didn't look in time." At one point he got really excited and said look a prostitute! Neither of us had ever seen a real live prostitute before. We're from small towns alright, that was exciting stuff to us. So after I missed all that excitement we finally got to the center of town. I was feeling even worse after that wild ride. Bus drivers drive like maniacs, I think it's part of their training--drive this bus like it's a Lamborghini.

I got my luggage and we were trying to figure out where we were. It was dark out and despite the fact that we were in the center of Rome, we didn't really know what that meant exactly. So we were standing on a curb and realize that I was really sick, like I'm about to throw up. I call out to my husband, who is apparently so engrossed in studying his map that he's walked away from me. I was standing by myself throwing up on the curve holding my own hair in a foreign city. Hesitantly, another tourist came over to ask me if I was ok. I wasn't but I said I was and walked away to go yell at my husband.

A few days later after a lovely time in Rome we went to get back on our bus to head back to the airport, as I was putting my suitcase in the under the bus storage area another passenger was swinging his large bag into the compartment. He swung it directly into my head. I wobbled off to go find my husband who was once again absent and happened to miss that fine moment of mine.

And that's kind of what traveling is like with us. We're a mess. If you don't believe me you can read this old post about Z and his problems with getting through airport security.

So my travel tip is, do the opposite of what we did and you'll do great!