I received a surprise today, an email from my friend, Terri, in Cortona. She was writing to tell me how she was doing, but also to share something very special with me. Terri is a writer and writes a monthly column for either a newspaper or magazine, I can't remember which. At any rate, she send me a copy of her last article, which was about an amazing experience she had during our visit to Florence just before I left. I have asked if I can share her article, but I am well aware it may be copywrited. I won't share any information with you until I hear from her. Let's just say I was very honored to have been included in her lovely narrative. Thank you, Terri, it is an honor to be called your friend.
I did not sleep well last, having suffered a coughing fit which left my throat raw and irritated. My landlord mentioned she heard me up in the night every 30 minutes and asked if I was alright. I feel bad for having disturbed her as I know she also is not resting well due to the heat. She tells me the heat is soon to break, so rest and exercise will soon be much more comfortable.
After an absence of a week, the Italian man, Guiseppe, is back at the coffee shop. He made my coffee for me the other day, but was embarrassed to be unable to ring up my purchase without help. Apparently, the "Pasta Specialist", according to his name tag, is not trained in how to use the register. Bless his heart. He makes great coffee though!
I was saddened to note that he has colored his hair black, completely covering the sparkling, silver hairs which made him look so distinguished. I guess he has no idea how beautiful I thought he was with his glittering hair. It's a bit reassuring to know we all worry about our appearance and how we look as we age. Perhaps I am not alone in having a skewed view of my own beauty. Perhaps it's my happy face, warm smile, and glowing eyes that attract people and that's a beauty in and of itself. My happy face has been in hiding lately as I come to terms with myself and the things I need to work on while I am here. I think it's time to show my joy again. It's the best gift I can give myself and the world!
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Adventures in Hair: Experiment #3
My hair grew too long overnight. I had hoped to make it until the middle of August, but since the handsome Italian didn't actually cut all that much off the last time, it got long very quickly. I've been keeping my eye out for potential salons and got a recommendation from the lady who owns the large-sized clothing store in town. I stopped by her recommendation and was greeted by a gorgeous man at the reception desk. Unfortunately, they could not squeeze me in until the 12th, nor could the salon next door. If I have to wait two weeks, I'll be cutting it myself with a cuticle scissors. It's gotten that bad!
I trotted hopefully to the other end of town, and after one look at my shaggy, faded mane the beautiful stylist offered me a same day appointment. I returned at the appointed hour and checked out the salon. It was a basic salon, no frills or strange hair growing lamps like at David and Francesco's. The stylist/owner, Elvi, was tall with long artfully highlighted long, blonde locks and beautiful big, blue eyes. She was really gorgeous. After a long conversation in German, of which I understood two words, we selected a reddish brown shade with blonde highlights. She applied the color and left me to ferment for 35 minutes. I became more and more nervous as I wathed the color develope and became darker and darker and more and more red.
After what seemed like an eternity, she escorted me to the sink and washed out the color with a massaging action, her fingers digging uncomfortably into my scalp. I strongly suspect there were red fingers marks on my scalp when she was finished! When she removed the towel I nearly exploded from the chair to make a run for the bathroom. I thought I was going to be sick! My hair was very red, with obvious blonde stripes, rather like a ginger tom cat. Nothing to do but let her cut it which she did in record time, shortening the back significantly and making shaggy layers around my face. After she dried and styled my hair, I could get a better idea of the color. The cut is cute, and the color is ok. There is a pretty big contrast between the base color and the highlights, and there are larger chunks of highlights than I normally get, but I think once my hair color fades a bit it will be just fine. I will add a picture of the haircut as soon as I get one taken. The best news of the day....the whole job cost 64.50...about $100, compared with the $170 I paid in Italy the last time.
I went shopping again yesterday, I cannot seem to resist clothes shopping lately, and bought a shirt on sale at the large-sized shop in town. It's navy blue and white, and needed a little "oomph" so I added some beads at the neckline. A girl can never have too much sparkle and I've been in need of a bit of sparkle in my life lately. The clothes at that shop are expensive, but the quality is very good. The two shirts I've bought there are a little snug, but wearable, so should fit for quite some time. Both shirts are made of something called "viscose". I always thought a viscose was a hoofed animal that lives in Tibet, sort of like an alpaca. Wait, maybe that's a vicuna I'm thinking of. Or maybe vicuna is Spanish for alpaca, or is it llama....
I skipped walking this evening as I developed a painful blister deep in my right heel, concealed under many layers of skin. I brought some wonderful blister band-aids with me, but the area is still painful enough to have earned a rest today.
After a lunch of a chef salad and potato salad, I crawled in bed with a book only to be startled by the sounds of "Symphony 101" issueing forth from the music school. There were a number of stringed instruments sawing away accompanied painfully by the squeak and squall of several clarinets. Gads! Reminds me of the days when my cousin, Carla, and I would be called upon to perform concerts for the family on holidays, she wheezing away on an arthritic accordian and me shrieking and squealing on my clarinet. My father was always conspicuous in his absence from these musical soirees. I wonder why?
I trotted hopefully to the other end of town, and after one look at my shaggy, faded mane the beautiful stylist offered me a same day appointment. I returned at the appointed hour and checked out the salon. It was a basic salon, no frills or strange hair growing lamps like at David and Francesco's. The stylist/owner, Elvi, was tall with long artfully highlighted long, blonde locks and beautiful big, blue eyes. She was really gorgeous. After a long conversation in German, of which I understood two words, we selected a reddish brown shade with blonde highlights. She applied the color and left me to ferment for 35 minutes. I became more and more nervous as I wathed the color develope and became darker and darker and more and more red.
After what seemed like an eternity, she escorted me to the sink and washed out the color with a massaging action, her fingers digging uncomfortably into my scalp. I strongly suspect there were red fingers marks on my scalp when she was finished! When she removed the towel I nearly exploded from the chair to make a run for the bathroom. I thought I was going to be sick! My hair was very red, with obvious blonde stripes, rather like a ginger tom cat. Nothing to do but let her cut it which she did in record time, shortening the back significantly and making shaggy layers around my face. After she dried and styled my hair, I could get a better idea of the color. The cut is cute, and the color is ok. There is a pretty big contrast between the base color and the highlights, and there are larger chunks of highlights than I normally get, but I think once my hair color fades a bit it will be just fine. I will add a picture of the haircut as soon as I get one taken. The best news of the day....the whole job cost 64.50...about $100, compared with the $170 I paid in Italy the last time.
I went shopping again yesterday, I cannot seem to resist clothes shopping lately, and bought a shirt on sale at the large-sized shop in town. It's navy blue and white, and needed a little "oomph" so I added some beads at the neckline. A girl can never have too much sparkle and I've been in need of a bit of sparkle in my life lately. The clothes at that shop are expensive, but the quality is very good. The two shirts I've bought there are a little snug, but wearable, so should fit for quite some time. Both shirts are made of something called "viscose". I always thought a viscose was a hoofed animal that lives in Tibet, sort of like an alpaca. Wait, maybe that's a vicuna I'm thinking of. Or maybe vicuna is Spanish for alpaca, or is it llama....
I skipped walking this evening as I developed a painful blister deep in my right heel, concealed under many layers of skin. I brought some wonderful blister band-aids with me, but the area is still painful enough to have earned a rest today.
After a lunch of a chef salad and potato salad, I crawled in bed with a book only to be startled by the sounds of "Symphony 101" issueing forth from the music school. There were a number of stringed instruments sawing away accompanied painfully by the squeak and squall of several clarinets. Gads! Reminds me of the days when my cousin, Carla, and I would be called upon to perform concerts for the family on holidays, she wheezing away on an arthritic accordian and me shrieking and squealing on my clarinet. My father was always conspicuous in his absence from these musical soirees. I wonder why?
Monday, July 28, 2008
Quiet
Life is very quiet these days. The heat is back, although it's not nearly so oppressive as it was in Italy, but I don't sleep well at night because I am wet and wake up stuck to the sheet. Also, some little bug is making a meal of me and I have red bumps all over my arms.
I walked down to the Burggarten, formerly the site of a castle which was destroyed during an earthquake hundreds of years ago. Now, it is a pleasant little park with paved paths and gardens. I like to sit and read a book there, under the huge, old trees. While there the other evening, I was surprised to hear thunder as the sky was bright, but sure enough, it soon began to rain. The sky stayed light which made me think the rain would soon stop, but it just came down harder. I sheltered under an enormous old tree, it's huge, green, leaf laden branches spread over me like a hug which kept all but the most determined raindrops from reaching me. When the rain let up a bit, I made a run for home.
On Sunday evenings, at the music school, an adult choir practices. Their lovely voices float out an open window and wrap around the small courtyard and wisp over to my house. I love to listen to them. I would love to be able to sing. It is one of my great regrets in life.
I need to get my hair done again. The color has grown out, and faded out, pretty quickly. There are several places in town so I will see if I can make an appointment. What I wouldn't pay to see my dear Charline walking down the street, shears in hand!
I seem to be fighting a cold and woke up with a sore throat today. Maybe it's allergies because I can't imagine how I could get a cold with all the heat and the rest I am getting. Come to think on it, I have been rather lethargic and find it hard to go for a walk these past days. I am dosing myself with homeopathic remedies and hoping for the best. I will make sure to have some books and necessaries on hand in case I get laid up and can't get out for provisions.
My flirty friend at the Internet Point has become even more persistent I find myself having to fend him off if we're there alone. I guess I will have to "nip it" as my friend, Edie, advised. Flirting is all fine and well, but I am not interested in a man who already has a woman. I deserve much better that a one night stand with a man who has nothing to offer me except the obvious. I have a lot to offer a nice man, and so I wait.
I had a nice talk with my son, Logan, last night. Jordan wasn't a home so I missed talking with him. When the time comes I will be ready to go home. I still have much to work on here though.
Nordic walking is very popular here in Europe, that is walking using two short ski poles. I don't know if that sort of walking is more beneficial because it gives the arms a workout or what. I had never seen it anywhere before, but then again, not being much of an exercise enthusiast, perhaps I just never paid attention.
I walked down to the Burggarten, formerly the site of a castle which was destroyed during an earthquake hundreds of years ago. Now, it is a pleasant little park with paved paths and gardens. I like to sit and read a book there, under the huge, old trees. While there the other evening, I was surprised to hear thunder as the sky was bright, but sure enough, it soon began to rain. The sky stayed light which made me think the rain would soon stop, but it just came down harder. I sheltered under an enormous old tree, it's huge, green, leaf laden branches spread over me like a hug which kept all but the most determined raindrops from reaching me. When the rain let up a bit, I made a run for home.
On Sunday evenings, at the music school, an adult choir practices. Their lovely voices float out an open window and wrap around the small courtyard and wisp over to my house. I love to listen to them. I would love to be able to sing. It is one of my great regrets in life.
I need to get my hair done again. The color has grown out, and faded out, pretty quickly. There are several places in town so I will see if I can make an appointment. What I wouldn't pay to see my dear Charline walking down the street, shears in hand!
I seem to be fighting a cold and woke up with a sore throat today. Maybe it's allergies because I can't imagine how I could get a cold with all the heat and the rest I am getting. Come to think on it, I have been rather lethargic and find it hard to go for a walk these past days. I am dosing myself with homeopathic remedies and hoping for the best. I will make sure to have some books and necessaries on hand in case I get laid up and can't get out for provisions.
My flirty friend at the Internet Point has become even more persistent I find myself having to fend him off if we're there alone. I guess I will have to "nip it" as my friend, Edie, advised. Flirting is all fine and well, but I am not interested in a man who already has a woman. I deserve much better that a one night stand with a man who has nothing to offer me except the obvious. I have a lot to offer a nice man, and so I wait.
I had a nice talk with my son, Logan, last night. Jordan wasn't a home so I missed talking with him. When the time comes I will be ready to go home. I still have much to work on here though.
Nordic walking is very popular here in Europe, that is walking using two short ski poles. I don't know if that sort of walking is more beneficial because it gives the arms a workout or what. I had never seen it anywhere before, but then again, not being much of an exercise enthusiast, perhaps I just never paid attention.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Nürnberg
I jumped in with both feet and took the train to Nürnberg today. I walked to the train station here in Rothenburg at 7:30 to catch the 8:06 train to Steinbach. All Rothenburg trains go to Steinbach for a transfer. We have the nicest tiny train here in Rothenburg.....new, clean, attractive, with this handy green button you push to open the door...effortless! I wasn't sure if there was a price difference between the regional trains and the regional express trains so I stuck to the regional which added 30 minutes to my journey. Upon purchasing my ticket for the return home, it did not appear that there was a price difference between these two types of trains. Handy information I will tuck away in my mental rolodex for future reference.
The trains to Ansbach and Nürnberg were older, not so clean, with doors you have to manually open. At least they opened...in Italy you could easily be tugging away at a nonfunctional door handle as the train begins pulling away from the station. Yikes! The train station in Nürnberg was very large with many shops and stores on several levels. There was even a McDonald's. The public restroom is called a "McClean" and cost $1.80 per use! You can bet I got my money's worth out of the toilet paper and soap. Had I been able to steal a roll of toilet paper I might have been tempted...all for economy's sake, don't you know.
A tourist information office is located right across the street from the station and I stopped to get a map and a quick orientation from the young woman at the counter. Walking up the street into the old town, I stopped at several department stores. One had a fine selection of old lady style, large-sized clothes. Gads! The other had none at all, but they had a huge lingerie department and I spent a long time looking at "büstenhalter", bras. Now, isn't büstenhalter a pleasant and attractive German word? Not many were in my size and several cost $100...way out of my price range!
I stopped by a church, St. Lorenz, for a visit and was disapointed to see that I was not allowed to take pictures. As a side note for those of you who have not been to Germany, it is a very rule oriented society. There are rules, official and unofficial, about just about everything, and they are followed. The only thing there is no rule about is lining up and waiting your turn...when one wants to buy a brötchen at the bakery, beware! It's every man, woman, and dog (literally) for himself! At any rate, I was disappointed to see that no one, other than myself, was trying to surreptitiously take pictures of the inside of the church. In Italy, people stand right in front of the "no cameras" sign and snap away. Rules are made to be broken in Italy, rules are made to be made in Germany. Not right, not wrong, just different.
I wandered around the old town area taking a few pictures until I was tired and hungry, at which time I found a pizzeria (Italian food is an addiction, I'm afraid) where I sat at a table outside and ordered a spicy sausage pizza. Two elderly women eventually joined me and the one was quite friendly and chattered away to me even though I could not understand most of the conversation. She was very sweet, and I giggled with her as she lost control of her cane and nearly beheaded her geriatric companion. My waiter was tall, dark, gorgeous, looked Italian, but did not speak Italian. I guess no one's perfect!
After lunch I found the IMAX theater to see if, by chance, they had a movie in English...no such luck. After nearly 4 months, I would love to go to the theater and see a movie in English. It's one of the first things I will do when I get back home! Right after I visit the Bean Tree for a sugar free, fat free, mocha ice cap. Mmmmm.
The ride home was not quite as relaxing as the train was filled to the brim with small and noisy children. There was also no air conditioning and it got rather uncomfortable as my window did open. I was so thirsty after the hot ride and all that salty pizza that I had to stop by the store and guzzle down a bottle of water before walking to the internet point in Rothenburg to check email. I also needed a nap. Getting up at 6:30 was a killer!
The trains to Ansbach and Nürnberg were older, not so clean, with doors you have to manually open. At least they opened...in Italy you could easily be tugging away at a nonfunctional door handle as the train begins pulling away from the station. Yikes! The train station in Nürnberg was very large with many shops and stores on several levels. There was even a McDonald's. The public restroom is called a "McClean" and cost $1.80 per use! You can bet I got my money's worth out of the toilet paper and soap. Had I been able to steal a roll of toilet paper I might have been tempted...all for economy's sake, don't you know.
A tourist information office is located right across the street from the station and I stopped to get a map and a quick orientation from the young woman at the counter. Walking up the street into the old town, I stopped at several department stores. One had a fine selection of old lady style, large-sized clothes. Gads! The other had none at all, but they had a huge lingerie department and I spent a long time looking at "büstenhalter", bras. Now, isn't büstenhalter a pleasant and attractive German word? Not many were in my size and several cost $100...way out of my price range!
I stopped by a church, St. Lorenz, for a visit and was disapointed to see that I was not allowed to take pictures. As a side note for those of you who have not been to Germany, it is a very rule oriented society. There are rules, official and unofficial, about just about everything, and they are followed. The only thing there is no rule about is lining up and waiting your turn...when one wants to buy a brötchen at the bakery, beware! It's every man, woman, and dog (literally) for himself! At any rate, I was disappointed to see that no one, other than myself, was trying to surreptitiously take pictures of the inside of the church. In Italy, people stand right in front of the "no cameras" sign and snap away. Rules are made to be broken in Italy, rules are made to be made in Germany. Not right, not wrong, just different.
I wandered around the old town area taking a few pictures until I was tired and hungry, at which time I found a pizzeria (Italian food is an addiction, I'm afraid) where I sat at a table outside and ordered a spicy sausage pizza. Two elderly women eventually joined me and the one was quite friendly and chattered away to me even though I could not understand most of the conversation. She was very sweet, and I giggled with her as she lost control of her cane and nearly beheaded her geriatric companion. My waiter was tall, dark, gorgeous, looked Italian, but did not speak Italian. I guess no one's perfect!
After lunch I found the IMAX theater to see if, by chance, they had a movie in English...no such luck. After nearly 4 months, I would love to go to the theater and see a movie in English. It's one of the first things I will do when I get back home! Right after I visit the Bean Tree for a sugar free, fat free, mocha ice cap. Mmmmm.
The ride home was not quite as relaxing as the train was filled to the brim with small and noisy children. There was also no air conditioning and it got rather uncomfortable as my window did open. I was so thirsty after the hot ride and all that salty pizza that I had to stop by the store and guzzle down a bottle of water before walking to the internet point in Rothenburg to check email. I also needed a nap. Getting up at 6:30 was a killer!
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
German
German is an unattractive language. Mind you, I love and appreciate Germany, but like many others, do not find the language the least bit attractive. It's what I refer to as one of the "hairball" languages, of which there are many....including the language of my Scottish ancesters, Gaelic. The hairball reference is to the many linguistic sounds in German which replicate the unfortunate noise a cat makes when he's about to hornk up a big hairball, or in the case of a person, a big, green "loogie."
There is an agency in town which sells trips in hot air ballons called Balloon Fahrten, pronounced "balloon fartin'." Now in my mind balloon fartin' is what my boys used to do when they blew up balloons, and rather than tie off the end, they would hold it tightly with the thumb and index finger of each hand, pulling their fingers in opposite directions to let a tiny bit of air escape with a loud, flatulent sound.
A klinger is a door bell, and a nutzername is a username. The hideous word ausfahrt means "exit" and geöffnet ( ge-ERF-net) means open. I could go on ad naseum, but I think you get the idea.
On a well traveled corner in town, there is a living statue. He is young and wears gold colored overalls, a pointy hat, and holds a gold rake. He paints his face, hands, and bare feet gold, and stands upon a small curving stone at a busy intersection where he's sure to get lots of attention. I walk past that corner on my way to and from the apartment and used to walk right beneath him, until a flurry of giggles from his rapt audience told me that he's doing something with the rake over my head each time I pass. I now cross the street and make a wide berth around him so as not to be an unwary part of his act. Each time I see him I am reminded of the movie Hot Fuzz, where a small town in England is overly concerned about the arrival of a living statue because they feel it detracts from their hard earned designation as the most beautiful town in England. The movie is a hoot and full of wry British humor if you've not seen it.
I recently observed a trio of boys aged 11 or 12, who were watching the living statue. They desperately wanted to take a picture, but were too shy. "Take a picture", one told the other. "I will if you do", countered the second. The third boy said, "Let's go look at the tower." "Which one? They're EVERYWHERE!", replied one of the other boys, the wonder and excitement in his voice palpable. Rothenburg has the ability to bewitch even the young.
When I lived in Crailsheim, I taught at the Department of Defense Dependent school located across the street from our apartment. One year I brought my class of learning impaired students, ages 5-12, on a field trip to Rothenburg. They, too, were bewitched, loving the Kriminal Museum, enjoying a walk atop the wall circling much of the city, and visiting the world famous Christmas store. Rothenburg has soemthing for most everyone. How lucky I am to be here again!
There is an agency in town which sells trips in hot air ballons called Balloon Fahrten, pronounced "balloon fartin'." Now in my mind balloon fartin' is what my boys used to do when they blew up balloons, and rather than tie off the end, they would hold it tightly with the thumb and index finger of each hand, pulling their fingers in opposite directions to let a tiny bit of air escape with a loud, flatulent sound.
A klinger is a door bell, and a nutzername is a username. The hideous word ausfahrt means "exit" and geöffnet ( ge-ERF-net) means open. I could go on ad naseum, but I think you get the idea.
On a well traveled corner in town, there is a living statue. He is young and wears gold colored overalls, a pointy hat, and holds a gold rake. He paints his face, hands, and bare feet gold, and stands upon a small curving stone at a busy intersection where he's sure to get lots of attention. I walk past that corner on my way to and from the apartment and used to walk right beneath him, until a flurry of giggles from his rapt audience told me that he's doing something with the rake over my head each time I pass. I now cross the street and make a wide berth around him so as not to be an unwary part of his act. Each time I see him I am reminded of the movie Hot Fuzz, where a small town in England is overly concerned about the arrival of a living statue because they feel it detracts from their hard earned designation as the most beautiful town in England. The movie is a hoot and full of wry British humor if you've not seen it.
I recently observed a trio of boys aged 11 or 12, who were watching the living statue. They desperately wanted to take a picture, but were too shy. "Take a picture", one told the other. "I will if you do", countered the second. The third boy said, "Let's go look at the tower." "Which one? They're EVERYWHERE!", replied one of the other boys, the wonder and excitement in his voice palpable. Rothenburg has the ability to bewitch even the young.
When I lived in Crailsheim, I taught at the Department of Defense Dependent school located across the street from our apartment. One year I brought my class of learning impaired students, ages 5-12, on a field trip to Rothenburg. They, too, were bewitched, loving the Kriminal Museum, enjoying a walk atop the wall circling much of the city, and visiting the world famous Christmas store. Rothenburg has soemthing for most everyone. How lucky I am to be here again!
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Ansbach
After my morning coffee, I decided to take the train to the nearby city of Ansbach. Ansbach is not a large city, but certainly has more to offer than Rothenburg. Unfortunately, I forgot my watch, an imortant item since I was taking the train, so I walked back home to get it causing me to miss my 12:06 train. I caught the 1:06 instead and, after a change in Steinach, was in Ansbach before 2:00. The cost of a round-trip ticket for a destination 45 minutes away is $20!
My perception when dropping off the rental car and catching the train home, was that the bahnhof, train station, is near the old city of Ansbach, so I set off on foot. I quickly found shops to poke around in, including a book shop with a small selection of English titles of which I chose two. I stopped to visit a catholic church and then continued on through a gate and into the pedestrian zone. I found a number of shops with clothes which either fit or were very close to fitting, so I will have some options when I lose more weight. I didn't find anything I loved though.
Eventually I came to a bridge crossing a busy road. Curious to see where it lead, I was surprised to find a shopping mall directly on the far side of the bridge. Now this shopping mall is much smaller than a mall at home, having maybe 20 shops and another 10 fast food establishments. It had a few stores, again with some clothing choices for me, and better yet, a bookstore where I purchased two more books. Books are still hideously expensive, however I read an average of one every two days, so didn't feel a bit guilty for having bought 4 books on this expedition. I stopped for a bit in another church and took a few pictures before heading back toward the train station. I noticed a branch of my favorite coffee shop in Ansbach! I did stop at one more shop and bought an inexpensive purple t-shirt. Nearly everything I have now is black or white, so I though the addition of purple to my wardrobe would liven things up.
I backtracked and found the train station with no problem, but had nearly a hour's wait, as I had just missed the last train by 3 minutes, so I had some diet coke and a sandwich while I passed the time. A elderly fellow raised his beerglass to me on my way out of the cafe. Now, I am pretty flexible and will consider any nice ages 30-55, a 25 year spread, but the guy with the beer glass was 70 if he was a day. Definitely not my target audience, but I appreciated his greeting. Now that I am home, I notice that I am a bit foot sore. Crawling in bed tonight will feel heavenly. This day away has done a world of good for my spirits!
My perception when dropping off the rental car and catching the train home, was that the bahnhof, train station, is near the old city of Ansbach, so I set off on foot. I quickly found shops to poke around in, including a book shop with a small selection of English titles of which I chose two. I stopped to visit a catholic church and then continued on through a gate and into the pedestrian zone. I found a number of shops with clothes which either fit or were very close to fitting, so I will have some options when I lose more weight. I didn't find anything I loved though.
Eventually I came to a bridge crossing a busy road. Curious to see where it lead, I was surprised to find a shopping mall directly on the far side of the bridge. Now this shopping mall is much smaller than a mall at home, having maybe 20 shops and another 10 fast food establishments. It had a few stores, again with some clothing choices for me, and better yet, a bookstore where I purchased two more books. Books are still hideously expensive, however I read an average of one every two days, so didn't feel a bit guilty for having bought 4 books on this expedition. I stopped for a bit in another church and took a few pictures before heading back toward the train station. I noticed a branch of my favorite coffee shop in Ansbach! I did stop at one more shop and bought an inexpensive purple t-shirt. Nearly everything I have now is black or white, so I though the addition of purple to my wardrobe would liven things up.
I backtracked and found the train station with no problem, but had nearly a hour's wait, as I had just missed the last train by 3 minutes, so I had some diet coke and a sandwich while I passed the time. A elderly fellow raised his beerglass to me on my way out of the cafe. Now, I am pretty flexible and will consider any nice ages 30-55, a 25 year spread, but the guy with the beer glass was 70 if he was a day. Definitely not my target audience, but I appreciated his greeting. Now that I am home, I notice that I am a bit foot sore. Crawling in bed tonight will feel heavenly. This day away has done a world of good for my spirits!
Monday, July 21, 2008
Dreary Weather
I had plans to go to Nürnberg today on the train, but after getting up early and getting ready, the skies clouded over, the wind picked up, and weather turned cold. I will wait for a nicer day as I want to walk around the altstadt, old city, exploring and taking pictures, not running from building to building dodging raindrops. The weather in Europe this year has really been terrible. I find I do need to leave Rothenburgfor awhile to have a change of scenery, so perhaps I will go to Ansbach tomorrow if the weather is still inclement. I do not remember feeling so frustrated and bored in Cortona. Maybe I need to reread my old blogs to remind myself it wasn't always wonderful in Italy, and rained unceasingly for months. I do not want to squander any of my precious time in Europe by being unhappy.
The foul weather seems to have brought on a dark mood. I wrote a blog about my hopeless feelings, however when I tried to post it I was given an error message and the blog disappeared. I guess the Universe is telling me those thoughts are not to be put into writing. I can't argue with the Universe, but I am still feeling discouraged about life in general.
I am looking for a salon in which to have my hair cut and colored. There is a salon and/or barber shop located next to the internet point, however I saw a lady leaving the shop the other day with an alarming hair color. Her cut was nice, but it was accented with highlights in thick stripes of bright, school bus yellow, in glaring contrast to the glossy red-brown base color. I remember my own stylist, Charline, talking about how my highlights turn a beautiful blonde color which does not require "toning". Now, I don't actually know what "toning" is, but after seeing those yellow stripes I am wondering if that poor lady's hair was in need of some. Suffice it to say that if they let her walk out of the salon with that haircolor, I will not be having my hair done there! Where is Charline or my handsome Italian stylist when I need them?
The foul weather seems to have brought on a dark mood. I wrote a blog about my hopeless feelings, however when I tried to post it I was given an error message and the blog disappeared. I guess the Universe is telling me those thoughts are not to be put into writing. I can't argue with the Universe, but I am still feeling discouraged about life in general.
I am looking for a salon in which to have my hair cut and colored. There is a salon and/or barber shop located next to the internet point, however I saw a lady leaving the shop the other day with an alarming hair color. Her cut was nice, but it was accented with highlights in thick stripes of bright, school bus yellow, in glaring contrast to the glossy red-brown base color. I remember my own stylist, Charline, talking about how my highlights turn a beautiful blonde color which does not require "toning". Now, I don't actually know what "toning" is, but after seeing those yellow stripes I am wondering if that poor lady's hair was in need of some. Suffice it to say that if they let her walk out of the salon with that haircolor, I will not be having my hair done there! Where is Charline or my handsome Italian stylist when I need them?
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Thoughts
I watched a concert of classical music on TV last night. First a fabulous violinist performed, then an entire orchestra. I enjoyed most watching the conductor at work. He was a slender man resembling a Basset Hound; drooping, sad eyes with loose, creased cheeks and sagging jowls. His body was tense and twitched frequently, vibrating strongly with each crescendo as though he were a giant human tuning fork. His cheeks and loose jowls wobbled and shook alarmingly, like the proverbial bowlful of jelly, in time to the music. Occasionally his eyebrows would rise dramatically into his nonexistent hairline and his mournful eyes would open wide showing a ring of white all the way around like a surprised deer in the headlights of an oncoming vehicle. He was really quite entertaining.
I am investigating some trips out of town on the train, one to Nürnberg, one to Heidelburg, and perhaps one also to Würzburg. I am still wary of the train and because I have to purchasetickets from a machine here in Rothenburg, I am not able to get a printout of the transfer points and ask any questions as I would be able to from a live ticket agent. Maybe I will just buy a ticket to Ansbach, then I can get help from the Ansbach agent for the rest of my journey. Nürnberg would be a day trip, but Heidelburg is a bit further and might have to be an overnight journey.
My landlady tells me the weather is to be nice next week, so that might be an opportune time to do a bit of exploring. Although we had a storm last evening, the dawn broke bright and sunny making me smile, however the sky is now is back to being overcast and dreary. Yuck! A little of this has gone a long way!
I found some inexpensive items of clothing in my size at Kaufland, to include pants and skirts. I bought only one t-shirt as it fit the best, but I feel sure I can find some other items, including unmentionables, in larger towns, which will give me some options. I am dreadfully tired of what I have, but hate to spend too much money given that my weight loss has stalled. Some days I am able to eat as I should, but other days are a real struggle. I guess that shouldn't really surprise me, but it does frustrate me. Shouldn't it be getting easier? The amount of sagging, wrinkled skin I now have is also most discourging. I guess plastic surgery is in my future if I continue to lose weight. I am not sure where money for that will come from, but I will have to trust that it will be there when I need it.
I am investigating some trips out of town on the train, one to Nürnberg, one to Heidelburg, and perhaps one also to Würzburg. I am still wary of the train and because I have to purchasetickets from a machine here in Rothenburg, I am not able to get a printout of the transfer points and ask any questions as I would be able to from a live ticket agent. Maybe I will just buy a ticket to Ansbach, then I can get help from the Ansbach agent for the rest of my journey. Nürnberg would be a day trip, but Heidelburg is a bit further and might have to be an overnight journey.
My landlady tells me the weather is to be nice next week, so that might be an opportune time to do a bit of exploring. Although we had a storm last evening, the dawn broke bright and sunny making me smile, however the sky is now is back to being overcast and dreary. Yuck! A little of this has gone a long way!
I found some inexpensive items of clothing in my size at Kaufland, to include pants and skirts. I bought only one t-shirt as it fit the best, but I feel sure I can find some other items, including unmentionables, in larger towns, which will give me some options. I am dreadfully tired of what I have, but hate to spend too much money given that my weight loss has stalled. Some days I am able to eat as I should, but other days are a real struggle. I guess that shouldn't really surprise me, but it does frustrate me. Shouldn't it be getting easier? The amount of sagging, wrinkled skin I now have is also most discourging. I guess plastic surgery is in my future if I continue to lose weight. I am not sure where money for that will come from, but I will have to trust that it will be there when I need it.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
My Celtic Soul
I went for a long walk last night, outside the city walls and into the country, where I followed a paved road intended for farm vehicles. The gently curving road led past golden fields of wheat, feathery heads waving in the breeze; two rows of apple trees, green fruit beginning to swell into maturity; and a small house hidden in a thick. protective hedge, with only its red clay tiled roof visible to passersby. It was incredibly peaceful...a good place to meditate and let my thoughts wander. I will visit this place again.
I did a bit of shopping yesterday at some small shops I hadn't visited before. Once of them was a Scottish shop owned by a distinguished gentleman from Edinburgh, who told me he has been here 20 years now. Several of the other stores featured dragon statues, Celtic jewelry and music, and swords and other weapons. Much as I love Italy, Germany, and many of the other places I have visited or lived, I am reminded that I have a Celtic soul. I connect most with my Scottish roots. The sound of a bodhran, a war drum used now in Celtic music, or a the skirl of the pipes makes my nerves zing with recognition of something ancient and primal. A life lived long ago amoungst the heather and peat bogs, mist settling gently over a haunting landscape of green valleys and forbidding dark mountains. Tall men in kilts, a long, narrow braid of hair framing their faces painted in the colors of war. Fearsome warriors, these. Green hills dotted with fluffly, white sheep. Standing circles of stones, both large and small. A land of Picts and Druids, the mystical, the mythical, and the magical. This is my heritage.....who I am. One day I shall return home.
I did a bit of shopping yesterday at some small shops I hadn't visited before. Once of them was a Scottish shop owned by a distinguished gentleman from Edinburgh, who told me he has been here 20 years now. Several of the other stores featured dragon statues, Celtic jewelry and music, and swords and other weapons. Much as I love Italy, Germany, and many of the other places I have visited or lived, I am reminded that I have a Celtic soul. I connect most with my Scottish roots. The sound of a bodhran, a war drum used now in Celtic music, or a the skirl of the pipes makes my nerves zing with recognition of something ancient and primal. A life lived long ago amoungst the heather and peat bogs, mist settling gently over a haunting landscape of green valleys and forbidding dark mountains. Tall men in kilts, a long, narrow braid of hair framing their faces painted in the colors of war. Fearsome warriors, these. Green hills dotted with fluffly, white sheep. Standing circles of stones, both large and small. A land of Picts and Druids, the mystical, the mythical, and the magical. This is my heritage.....who I am. One day I shall return home.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
New Plans
As I announced previsouly, I planned to return to Italy for one month in October, which would mean that I would return to Texas in November, rather than December 1st as originally planned. I called American Airlines and was told there was no availability for a flight back until November 26th, but I was welcome to keep calling back to see if seats opened up. That call cost me $10 and fortunately I wasn't placed on hold at all. I decided that I am not going to keep throwing money away on long distance calls with no guarantee of success, so I called dear Maria back and asked her if I could come back from October 9- November 30. She seems happy to have me coming back and gave me a break on November's rent which will help me quite a lot. She also indicated she would be willing to pick me up from the Camucia train station when I arrive as it will be around 9 PM or so. Way too late for the last bus, and there are no taxis in Camucia. Such a wonderful, kind woman is Maria!
I booked my tickets from Strasbourg to Florence, and was rather annoyed to find out that I will be driven 3 hours by bus to Frankfurt, then flown to Florence. I guess that's whay the ticket was half the price of any other travel website. The bus is fine...hope I don't need to use "the facilities" on the way though!
Walking to the internet point tonight, I heard the swirl of Celtic music trickling down the street so trotted up to the Marktplatz in time to hear a duo playing Celtic music. A dark haired man was playing an uilleann pipe (an Irish bagpipe) or it could have been a zampogna, which is an Italian bagpipe, as I did hear the word Italy being bandied about in German. The other man, with a long, long ponytail of straight hair stretching down his back, played what appeared to be a bass drum. I was surprised not to see a bodhran, which is a thin Celtic drum, but then if the pipes were actually from Italy perhaps the drum was too. At any rate the duo were very good. Celtic music calls to my Scottish roots and the urge to kick up my heels or at least tap my foot was hard to resist.
Speaking of Scottish music, I walked past the music school the other night to hear the lonesome sound of a trombone squeezing out "My Bonny Lies Over the Ocean" with no discernable errors. Good stuff, that.
I am really beginning to feel at home at my coffee shop. It's quite new, large, and brightly lit with wooden tables and modern glass lamps and chandeliers. Large rounds of brown bread, pale circular baskets, and wood piles lean against brick walls for atmosphere, and each table has a fresh rose floating in a glass dish placed inside a metal circlet shaped liked a small crown. There are all sorts of breads, rolls, sweet rolls, croissants, and tortes to eat in or take away, and wonderful smelling omelettes are prepared for the breakfast crowd. The handsome Italian man is usually preparing pasta with a choice of sauces for the lunch crowd, but I have not yet tried any of them. He is sure to greet me in Italian each day now, and the ladies have warmed up and several know my drink of choice, milchkaffee. I even have my favorite little table where I sit and read for 45 minutes or an hour, however long I can manage to nurse my coffee along...I am such a creature of habit! But it feels good to begin to fit in and to establish a routine of sorts. Rothenburg is still not home yet though!
An ancient fellow, leaning heavily on a cane, stopped me and addressed me in unintelligible German the other day. Ever polite, I stopped to greet him and shake his proferred hand, but was alarmed to feel him rub my breast with his other outflung arm. Sheesh! You know, for as much as you hear about Italian men coming on strong, other than a bit of ogling in Florence, I found them to be gentlemen. No one in Cortona was ever inappropriate with me, but here in Germany I have experienced both the come on of the internet man and have now been felt up by an old codger. Yikes!
I booked my tickets from Strasbourg to Florence, and was rather annoyed to find out that I will be driven 3 hours by bus to Frankfurt, then flown to Florence. I guess that's whay the ticket was half the price of any other travel website. The bus is fine...hope I don't need to use "the facilities" on the way though!
Walking to the internet point tonight, I heard the swirl of Celtic music trickling down the street so trotted up to the Marktplatz in time to hear a duo playing Celtic music. A dark haired man was playing an uilleann pipe (an Irish bagpipe) or it could have been a zampogna, which is an Italian bagpipe, as I did hear the word Italy being bandied about in German. The other man, with a long, long ponytail of straight hair stretching down his back, played what appeared to be a bass drum. I was surprised not to see a bodhran, which is a thin Celtic drum, but then if the pipes were actually from Italy perhaps the drum was too. At any rate the duo were very good. Celtic music calls to my Scottish roots and the urge to kick up my heels or at least tap my foot was hard to resist.
Speaking of Scottish music, I walked past the music school the other night to hear the lonesome sound of a trombone squeezing out "My Bonny Lies Over the Ocean" with no discernable errors. Good stuff, that.
I am really beginning to feel at home at my coffee shop. It's quite new, large, and brightly lit with wooden tables and modern glass lamps and chandeliers. Large rounds of brown bread, pale circular baskets, and wood piles lean against brick walls for atmosphere, and each table has a fresh rose floating in a glass dish placed inside a metal circlet shaped liked a small crown. There are all sorts of breads, rolls, sweet rolls, croissants, and tortes to eat in or take away, and wonderful smelling omelettes are prepared for the breakfast crowd. The handsome Italian man is usually preparing pasta with a choice of sauces for the lunch crowd, but I have not yet tried any of them. He is sure to greet me in Italian each day now, and the ladies have warmed up and several know my drink of choice, milchkaffee. I even have my favorite little table where I sit and read for 45 minutes or an hour, however long I can manage to nurse my coffee along...I am such a creature of habit! But it feels good to begin to fit in and to establish a routine of sorts. Rothenburg is still not home yet though!
An ancient fellow, leaning heavily on a cane, stopped me and addressed me in unintelligible German the other day. Ever polite, I stopped to greet him and shake his proferred hand, but was alarmed to feel him rub my breast with his other outflung arm. Sheesh! You know, for as much as you hear about Italian men coming on strong, other than a bit of ogling in Florence, I found them to be gentlemen. No one in Cortona was ever inappropriate with me, but here in Germany I have experienced both the come on of the internet man and have now been felt up by an old codger. Yikes!
Monday, July 14, 2008
Missing Italy
I called Maria last night, telling her, "I miss you! Can I come back?" and of course she said, "Yes." I will return to Italy for a month or so after my time in Strasbourg, France. I miss my safe little Cortona. I long to have Nutella gelato, drink coffee at Bar Signorelli, and eat a porchetta panino from the porchetta man and a crostone pizza at Fuflun's. I want to listen to the ladies fussing over babies at the bar, sit on my bench overlooking the Val di Chiana, and hear the lyrical sounds of Italian being spoken. I will end my journey in the place it began. I am so excited!
I was getting a bit nervous about money as I was over budget in Italy and not at all sure I could really afford to return for a month, but as soon as I began to worry about finances, I again found money...a 5 euro bill this time, lying at my feet on the cobbled street. `Have faith, Amy. The money will come.´, the Universe seems to be telling me. I must try to reach American Airlines to change my flight back to the United States for sometime in November, rather than December. Then I can book my flights to and from Florence.
At the coffee shop this morning, I chatted with a nice American couple. He is retired reservist and thus they are able to fly free on a space available basis through the military. The lady was telling me how she had taught for the Department of Defense in Germany (I believe...but I seem to have a terribly short memory these days) for a couple of years and also spent a year in Scotland and traveled all over Europe during those times. Greece and southern Portugal were her personal favorites. She warned her husband that she just might take off on an adventure like mine! I really enjoyed my conversation with this couple and loved their enthusiasm for travel and passion for Europe.
I met my landlords' daughter, Isabella, with whom I communicated while making my vacation reservation. She is just lovely; tall, curvy, feminine with warm eyes and a beautiful smile. I confess to being a bit envious! Unfortunately, she was unable to advise me on a more affordable way to call home, so I will only be able to call the boys twice a month. I called them last night and we had a nice talk. Jordan will be 18 at the end of the week and has plans to get a tattoo. I was hoping he'd go for something Celtic (my Scottish roots), but he's found a tribal design he likes. Logan is enjoying a last month of hanging out with his friend, Jeff, before Jeff moves out of state. Logan said he is not going to the city pool much lately because they no longer allow diving into the pool. I suggested the water might still feel nice on a hot summer's day.
It rained much of yesterday, and all I wanted to do was curl up with a book...which is pretty much what I did! I did take advantage of a bit of sun in the evening by taking a walk and exploring outside the city wall a little. One could almost overdose on cuteness here in Rothenburg. Everything is so fresh and clean, and there are flowers everywhere in every color of the rainbow. The streets are cobbled with brick-sized rocks and nearly every building is well cared for and neatly painted. A number of buildings are half-timbered allowing some of the structural beams to show on the exterior. A few have intricately carved and brilliantly painted wocden decorations gracing the exterior. Draft horses pulling brightly colored wagons traverse the town all day, adding their steady clip-clop to the sounds of village life, and luscious cooking smells waft from gasthaus doorways. Mmmmmm! I do believe I am about due to dine out again soon!
I was getting a bit nervous about money as I was over budget in Italy and not at all sure I could really afford to return for a month, but as soon as I began to worry about finances, I again found money...a 5 euro bill this time, lying at my feet on the cobbled street. `Have faith, Amy. The money will come.´, the Universe seems to be telling me. I must try to reach American Airlines to change my flight back to the United States for sometime in November, rather than December. Then I can book my flights to and from Florence.
At the coffee shop this morning, I chatted with a nice American couple. He is retired reservist and thus they are able to fly free on a space available basis through the military. The lady was telling me how she had taught for the Department of Defense in Germany (I believe...but I seem to have a terribly short memory these days) for a couple of years and also spent a year in Scotland and traveled all over Europe during those times. Greece and southern Portugal were her personal favorites. She warned her husband that she just might take off on an adventure like mine! I really enjoyed my conversation with this couple and loved their enthusiasm for travel and passion for Europe.
I met my landlords' daughter, Isabella, with whom I communicated while making my vacation reservation. She is just lovely; tall, curvy, feminine with warm eyes and a beautiful smile. I confess to being a bit envious! Unfortunately, she was unable to advise me on a more affordable way to call home, so I will only be able to call the boys twice a month. I called them last night and we had a nice talk. Jordan will be 18 at the end of the week and has plans to get a tattoo. I was hoping he'd go for something Celtic (my Scottish roots), but he's found a tribal design he likes. Logan is enjoying a last month of hanging out with his friend, Jeff, before Jeff moves out of state. Logan said he is not going to the city pool much lately because they no longer allow diving into the pool. I suggested the water might still feel nice on a hot summer's day.
It rained much of yesterday, and all I wanted to do was curl up with a book...which is pretty much what I did! I did take advantage of a bit of sun in the evening by taking a walk and exploring outside the city wall a little. One could almost overdose on cuteness here in Rothenburg. Everything is so fresh and clean, and there are flowers everywhere in every color of the rainbow. The streets are cobbled with brick-sized rocks and nearly every building is well cared for and neatly painted. A number of buildings are half-timbered allowing some of the structural beams to show on the exterior. A few have intricately carved and brilliantly painted wocden decorations gracing the exterior. Draft horses pulling brightly colored wagons traverse the town all day, adding their steady clip-clop to the sounds of village life, and luscious cooking smells waft from gasthaus doorways. Mmmmmm! I do believe I am about due to dine out again soon!
Saturday, July 12, 2008
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Exploring
I have been explaoring Rothenburg, street by street, a bit at a time. I walk quite a lot and enjoy discovering little nooks and crannies I hadn't known existed. Rothenburg is a city which invites you to linger. Little park benches abound and there are a multitude of paved paths for walking outside the city walls. I like the old Burg garden (castle garden) with its flowers. shade trees, and views of the Tauber valley.
I climbed down into the valley the other day to explaore a small church, however was disappointed to find the church closed. To get to the church I had to pass under a double decker bridge looking much like an ancient Roman aquaduct, which it's not. It was a warm and sunny day and climbing back into the city walls was a bit of an effort, but I took a couple breaks to read my book and did just fine.
Germans have the greenest thumbs.....every building is decorated with colorful and lush flowers blossoming in wild abandon. I saw a rose with a trunk thicker than many fair-sized trees, and a man near my house was using a hand sprayer to spritz his ruby colored roses with some magical solution. Germans are the gardeners of Europe.
There is a tiny church, St. Wolfgang's, near the castle wall not far from my house. St. Wolfgang was the patron saint of shepherds and for a nominal fee I could view the tiny church, climb down into the catacombs, and up into a shepherd's museum. Now, let me tell you that museum was another reason to have nightmares. There was a display of costumed dolls doing the infamous "sheperd's dance", each about 12 inches tall, with spooky, wax-like, frozen faces and evil eyes. I am pretty sure those ghastly things come to life and dance around the church at midnight. There was also a display of household items of times gone by, which included a female mannequin. Helga the Horrible is displayed leaning back against the wall, in a corner, with her feet are upcocked pertly in the event you wanted to admire the tops of her buckled shoes as well as the soles. Maybe to check for sheep dung or perhaps she just liked to walk on her heels. I have included two pictures so you can judge for yourself how hideous this figure is. You´ll note her right arm is extremely long, and if the hand was straight her fingers would reach her knees. Also, the hand is outsized, like a huge man's hand on a female's body. Now the left hand is another matter altogether. The wrist is attached to a supporting wall and has been snapped, perhaps as an example of medieval torture, leaving the hand dangling, withered and curled spider-like, from a hollow wrist. The whole unfortunate affair is topped by a funereal bonnet and some dry, straw-like substance masquerading as hair. Hideous, just hideous.
I climbed down into the valley the other day to explaore a small church, however was disappointed to find the church closed. To get to the church I had to pass under a double decker bridge looking much like an ancient Roman aquaduct, which it's not. It was a warm and sunny day and climbing back into the city walls was a bit of an effort, but I took a couple breaks to read my book and did just fine.
Germans have the greenest thumbs.....every building is decorated with colorful and lush flowers blossoming in wild abandon. I saw a rose with a trunk thicker than many fair-sized trees, and a man near my house was using a hand sprayer to spritz his ruby colored roses with some magical solution. Germans are the gardeners of Europe.
There is a tiny church, St. Wolfgang's, near the castle wall not far from my house. St. Wolfgang was the patron saint of shepherds and for a nominal fee I could view the tiny church, climb down into the catacombs, and up into a shepherd's museum. Now, let me tell you that museum was another reason to have nightmares. There was a display of costumed dolls doing the infamous "sheperd's dance", each about 12 inches tall, with spooky, wax-like, frozen faces and evil eyes. I am pretty sure those ghastly things come to life and dance around the church at midnight. There was also a display of household items of times gone by, which included a female mannequin. Helga the Horrible is displayed leaning back against the wall, in a corner, with her feet are upcocked pertly in the event you wanted to admire the tops of her buckled shoes as well as the soles. Maybe to check for sheep dung or perhaps she just liked to walk on her heels. I have included two pictures so you can judge for yourself how hideous this figure is. You´ll note her right arm is extremely long, and if the hand was straight her fingers would reach her knees. Also, the hand is outsized, like a huge man's hand on a female's body. Now the left hand is another matter altogether. The wrist is attached to a supporting wall and has been snapped, perhaps as an example of medieval torture, leaving the hand dangling, withered and curled spider-like, from a hollow wrist. The whole unfortunate affair is topped by a funereal bonnet and some dry, straw-like substance masquerading as hair. Hideous, just hideous.
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
A Trip to Ansbach
I arose early Friday, a gorgeous sunny day, to return my rental car in the nearby town of Ansbach. I was unable to print out a map before I left Texas and had only the street address to work with. Rather than taking the autobahn to Ansbach, I drove the back way so I could enjoy the scenery and the feel of the wind blowing in my hair one last time before I am back "on foot." I drove through the town of Colmberg and took a lovely picture of the castle which I had never seen before. It's amazing to me that I could live here for so long and yet not see so many things.
Excuse me if I am a bit distracted...the Turkish man that works at the internet site is trying to pick me up and it's such an unusual occurrence that I am a bit flustered. Of course, the fact that he's married is a pretty big turn off. Men! I wonder what my protector, Claudio, would say about this guy (who's slipping me his phone number even as I write this).
At any rate, once I entered Ansbach it turned out that I was on the road where the car rental return is located and I found it almost immediately. I was able to get gas at an Esso station across the street and was surprised to find I could pump the gas first and pay after. It's rare to be able to do that at home any more and I was told you can't do it in Italy. In fact, Italy has some confusing cash payment machine that I was afraid to ever try to use. After gassing up, turning in the car was a piece of cake, but since the man did not actually examine the car, I am watching my credit card closely to ensure there are no unauthorized charges for damage not incurred.
I took a taxi to the nice, clean, new-looking train station and bought a ticket for Rothenburg. The ticket agent was nice enough to print out a little schedule showing where and when I would have to change trains and even which track the train would depart from. The alleviated a lot of my stress. The train rides were smooth and I enjoyed lookng out the window, although the scenery was not as pretty as the scenery that accompanied me as I left Italy. After the train arrived in Rothenburg, it was a 1/2 mile walk home.
I am excited that Rothenburg has 4 bookshops, each with a small selection of titles in English. One elderly man has a whole rack of books, so I know I'll be visiting him again. Of course, I am finding that I've read many of the books already so that narrows my selection significantly.
I went out to lunch for the first time since arriving, at a hotel restaurant. I sat inside by myself and ordered naturell mineral water, which has the same rather sour taste as regular mineral water, but none of the bubbles. Lunch was wienerschnitzel, pounded thin, breaded and fried to tender perfection; slim, crispy, salty french fries, and a salad topped with sesame seeds and a sweet dressing. It was heavenly and it was all I could do not to inhale every bite in record time. Only a vision of me looking like a big Hoover vacuum cleaner sucking up everything on my plate in 10 seconds made me leave a few fries and a bite of salad behind. I really wanted to eat them though.
Unfortunately, my previous healthy appetite has returned with a vengeance. Perhaps it's the cooler weather or that I am lonely, but whatever the reason I am hungry all the time. I try not to eat out as the food is simply not as healthy here as it was in Italy, and it' so good that I cannot eat just a little. There seems to be a bäckerei/conditerei on each corner and they have a huge selection of breads and rolls, sweets, cookies, and these wonderful looking tortes and cakes. So far I have resisted all but some brötchen (rolls) and some Italian breads. I feel a torte coming on though.......
Excuse me if I am a bit distracted...the Turkish man that works at the internet site is trying to pick me up and it's such an unusual occurrence that I am a bit flustered. Of course, the fact that he's married is a pretty big turn off. Men! I wonder what my protector, Claudio, would say about this guy (who's slipping me his phone number even as I write this).
At any rate, once I entered Ansbach it turned out that I was on the road where the car rental return is located and I found it almost immediately. I was able to get gas at an Esso station across the street and was surprised to find I could pump the gas first and pay after. It's rare to be able to do that at home any more and I was told you can't do it in Italy. In fact, Italy has some confusing cash payment machine that I was afraid to ever try to use. After gassing up, turning in the car was a piece of cake, but since the man did not actually examine the car, I am watching my credit card closely to ensure there are no unauthorized charges for damage not incurred.
I took a taxi to the nice, clean, new-looking train station and bought a ticket for Rothenburg. The ticket agent was nice enough to print out a little schedule showing where and when I would have to change trains and even which track the train would depart from. The alleviated a lot of my stress. The train rides were smooth and I enjoyed lookng out the window, although the scenery was not as pretty as the scenery that accompanied me as I left Italy. After the train arrived in Rothenburg, it was a 1/2 mile walk home.
I am excited that Rothenburg has 4 bookshops, each with a small selection of titles in English. One elderly man has a whole rack of books, so I know I'll be visiting him again. Of course, I am finding that I've read many of the books already so that narrows my selection significantly.
I went out to lunch for the first time since arriving, at a hotel restaurant. I sat inside by myself and ordered naturell mineral water, which has the same rather sour taste as regular mineral water, but none of the bubbles. Lunch was wienerschnitzel, pounded thin, breaded and fried to tender perfection; slim, crispy, salty french fries, and a salad topped with sesame seeds and a sweet dressing. It was heavenly and it was all I could do not to inhale every bite in record time. Only a vision of me looking like a big Hoover vacuum cleaner sucking up everything on my plate in 10 seconds made me leave a few fries and a bite of salad behind. I really wanted to eat them though.
Unfortunately, my previous healthy appetite has returned with a vengeance. Perhaps it's the cooler weather or that I am lonely, but whatever the reason I am hungry all the time. I try not to eat out as the food is simply not as healthy here as it was in Italy, and it' so good that I cannot eat just a little. There seems to be a bäckerei/conditerei on each corner and they have a huge selection of breads and rolls, sweets, cookies, and these wonderful looking tortes and cakes. So far I have resisted all but some brötchen (rolls) and some Italian breads. I feel a torte coming on though.......
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
The Coffee Shop
I've found a new place for coffee. It is large, bright, and new-looking and serves pastries, breads, pasta, and salads as well as coffee. I only go for a milchkaffee (coffee with milk.....cafe´latte in Italian) as I am trying not to eat out much. It seems to be a losing battle however. The weather here is Germany is much, much cooler than Italy. Cool enough, in fact, for me to wear my hideous turquoise jacket the past couple of days. Anyway back to the cooffee shop...there is a handsome man my age that works there....hes married, of course. I realized yesterday that he's Italian. Alessandro is his name. Having him there gives me an opportunity to speak a tiny bit of Italian so at least I won't lose the ability to order coffee.
There was a cute little baby girl at the coffee shop today. Mom and dad were holding her hands and helping her walk up and down the aisle near my favorite table. She had a whiff of duckling blonde fluff on her head, dark, sparkly eyes, and a joyful smile. What a doll!
I live to one side of a large church and every morning at 7:30, 7:00 on Sundays, the church bells peal for 5 entire minutes. I starting counting the chimes and lost track somewhere past 100. There's no sleeping through that!
Additionally, there are workmen working across the alley from me so each morning I still hear sounds of jack hammers, shovels, trucks, and masculine voices speaking a language I don't understand. I feel right at home! One of the older workers is usually shirtless, skin deeply tanned and leathery, head covered by a floppy hat, which is truly more excitement than I bargained for. The workers in Italy were always fully clothed...to my chagrin. With typical German efficiency, the workers begin their day promptly at 7:00 AM. If I sleep through that, the church bells get me.
My landlord has a cat. A dark, fuzzy, blue-gray color with light green eyes. He likes to jump onto a stone wall in the backyard, then onto the canvas patio cover where he lounges like the King of Siam in his improvised hammock. The neighbors also appear to have a cat, and although I have't actually seen him, I certainly have heard him. About 3 or 4 times per day terrible growling and yowling sounds issue forth from behind a wooden fence next door. This hideous screeching and caterwauling goes on for 15 minutes at a time and I sometimes wonder if its actually a cat or a lion. Whatever it is, it certainly is unhappy.
There was a cute little baby girl at the coffee shop today. Mom and dad were holding her hands and helping her walk up and down the aisle near my favorite table. She had a whiff of duckling blonde fluff on her head, dark, sparkly eyes, and a joyful smile. What a doll!
I live to one side of a large church and every morning at 7:30, 7:00 on Sundays, the church bells peal for 5 entire minutes. I starting counting the chimes and lost track somewhere past 100. There's no sleeping through that!
Additionally, there are workmen working across the alley from me so each morning I still hear sounds of jack hammers, shovels, trucks, and masculine voices speaking a language I don't understand. I feel right at home! One of the older workers is usually shirtless, skin deeply tanned and leathery, head covered by a floppy hat, which is truly more excitement than I bargained for. The workers in Italy were always fully clothed...to my chagrin. With typical German efficiency, the workers begin their day promptly at 7:00 AM. If I sleep through that, the church bells get me.
My landlord has a cat. A dark, fuzzy, blue-gray color with light green eyes. He likes to jump onto a stone wall in the backyard, then onto the canvas patio cover where he lounges like the King of Siam in his improvised hammock. The neighbors also appear to have a cat, and although I have't actually seen him, I certainly have heard him. About 3 or 4 times per day terrible growling and yowling sounds issue forth from behind a wooden fence next door. This hideous screeching and caterwauling goes on for 15 minutes at a time and I sometimes wonder if its actually a cat or a lion. Whatever it is, it certainly is unhappy.
Monday, July 7, 2008
Early Days
Thursday found me driving across the gentle hills to Dinkelsbühl, a walled city similar to Rothenburg. I had been there once or twice before but found I did not remember the city well. I parked near a moat on the other side of which was a tower and the city wall. I crossed a bridge over the protective moat and wandered the cobbled streets, shopping and taking pictures for an hour and a half, before heading back home. Once reaching Rothenburg I drove down in the Tauber valley and took some pictures of the city from below and of a tall, skinny house with windows made of round, thick glass panes.
I located a grocery store in Rothenburg and picked up some basic supplies. My landlady tells me that there is a bigger store near the bahnhof, train station, so I will have to check it out before long.
I am happy to say there is a large-sized clothing store in town and the lady who owns it is friendly, helpful, and speaks some English. Much of her stock is not really my taste, however I did find a black shirt with little sparkles at the neckline for which I paid $100. It is a tad snug so should fit for quite some time and the quality is very good so it won´t lose its shape or wear out. I also located a shop with jeans from sizes teeny tiny to much larger. The lady at this shop was also very helpful and I found a cute pair of jeans with sparkles and metal rivets shaped like flowers for me to shrink into. The price of 35 eruo was significantly cheaper than the 128 euro I found in Italy. When I returned home I held my new jeans up to the old ones and found the waist band the same size, however I cannot fasten the new jeans. It was then I realized that the new jeans are low rise and will fasten about 1 1/2 inches below the old ones....right where my "rise" is the biggest. It will be a time of celebration when I can wear my new jeans comfortably!
Rothenburg is not a large city, however it is larger than Cortona, with quite a few more shops, however since I lived in Germany for such a long time I am finding that I already purchased many of the things I liked, so am not so tempted to shop. A good thing for my wallet. I did buy a silver ring with an oval amethyst in it to wear on my middle finger and some postcards to send to friends and family.
There is a music school near my house and walking home one night I heard singing, so sat on a bench under the window to listen. They were singing I Will Follow Him, from the movie Sister Act and were doing a fair job of it until the soprano soloist started in. She was just ghastly and I am pretty sure she hit a few notes never previously undiscovered. Unfortunately, the teacher had the soloist yodel her part time and again, and I had to fight the urge to paw my ears and howl. I finally decided that I´d heard enough yowling for the evening and walked to the back of the music school toward my apartment only to bear witness to a trio of flatulent tubas squelching out a noise better made in private. Such entertainment!
I located a grocery store in Rothenburg and picked up some basic supplies. My landlady tells me that there is a bigger store near the bahnhof, train station, so I will have to check it out before long.
I am happy to say there is a large-sized clothing store in town and the lady who owns it is friendly, helpful, and speaks some English. Much of her stock is not really my taste, however I did find a black shirt with little sparkles at the neckline for which I paid $100. It is a tad snug so should fit for quite some time and the quality is very good so it won´t lose its shape or wear out. I also located a shop with jeans from sizes teeny tiny to much larger. The lady at this shop was also very helpful and I found a cute pair of jeans with sparkles and metal rivets shaped like flowers for me to shrink into. The price of 35 eruo was significantly cheaper than the 128 euro I found in Italy. When I returned home I held my new jeans up to the old ones and found the waist band the same size, however I cannot fasten the new jeans. It was then I realized that the new jeans are low rise and will fasten about 1 1/2 inches below the old ones....right where my "rise" is the biggest. It will be a time of celebration when I can wear my new jeans comfortably!
Rothenburg is not a large city, however it is larger than Cortona, with quite a few more shops, however since I lived in Germany for such a long time I am finding that I already purchased many of the things I liked, so am not so tempted to shop. A good thing for my wallet. I did buy a silver ring with an oval amethyst in it to wear on my middle finger and some postcards to send to friends and family.
There is a music school near my house and walking home one night I heard singing, so sat on a bench under the window to listen. They were singing I Will Follow Him, from the movie Sister Act and were doing a fair job of it until the soprano soloist started in. She was just ghastly and I am pretty sure she hit a few notes never previously undiscovered. Unfortunately, the teacher had the soloist yodel her part time and again, and I had to fight the urge to paw my ears and howl. I finally decided that I´d heard enough yowling for the evening and walked to the back of the music school toward my apartment only to bear witness to a trio of flatulent tubas squelching out a noise better made in private. Such entertainment!
Crailsheim
Early Wedneday morning, I took a stroll to locate a bakery where I purchased and attempted to consume an extremely dry, crumbly, tasteless, baked stick of dough. I think I will not be partaking of that particular goody again anytime in the future. I stopped by a fruit and vegetable stand in the marktplatz and purchased some fresh strawberries, sun-warmed and sweet smelling. They were wonderfully juicy and made up for the terrible pastry.
I departed Rothenburg, traveling across gently rolling green hills and through tiny hamlets to the town of Crailsheim, where Tim and I were stationed with the U.S. Army from 1988-1993, and where our son, Jordan, was born in 1990. Jordan was born at the Kreiskrankenhaus in downtown Crailsheim and will be 18 on July 18th when his option to be a German citizen will end. My time in Germany was really a pivotal time in my life. I was a newlywed when I arrived, my first child was born there, and my abiding passion for Europe was ignited.
Driving through Crailsheim, I was surprised to see more shops and stores than I remembered, but the McDonald´s, which had opened shortly before we left, was still going strong and had been remodeled. As I traveled toward our old military base things began to look unfamilair, until I spotted a landmark, Möbel Bohn (Bean Furniture). In front of our military quarters, in what had been an empty field, was a new shopping center and huge grocery store. I could just glimpse our old base housng through the buildings and had to circle around to locate the entrance.
Upon entering our housing area, I noticed how the trees have grown and matured, casting welcome shade over the street. The new residents are now allowed to landscape the green space between each apartment building, a strict no-no during my tenure. When the base was preparing to close in 1993 it was rumored that the housing was to be turned over to refugees from the former East Block countries. I don't actually know if that's what happened but I hope that a place I'd loved so much was used to help others build new lives. The buildings have been repainted cheerful colors with geometric desings in contrasting tones. I could see that the large window in the living/dining area had been altered to make room for a door leading onto a newly added balcony.
I walked across the road to where the military installation had actually been and all of the old buildings are gone. A new gymnasium stands where the commissary and guard shack had been and behind it empty, overgrown fields. It made me a bit melancholy. I remember walking those streets, past the barracks, to pick up mail every day or to visit the bank or Post Exchange (PX). All of it now gone. I took pictures to share with Tim and Jordan. Every one should know the place where their lives began.
I drove back downtown, parked the car, and visited a church that, somehow, Tim and I never found time to visit. I also located the hospital, still in operation, where my sweet baby was born. I had to take a picture there too. Maybe more for me than for Jordan. He has no memory of these places, however a piece of my heart still lives on there. I think a piece of Tim's does too. My memory is like a little time warp, allowing me to see fragments of the past as it was, not as it is now, and it made me cry a bit. It has been an emotional week for me.
I departed Rothenburg, traveling across gently rolling green hills and through tiny hamlets to the town of Crailsheim, where Tim and I were stationed with the U.S. Army from 1988-1993, and where our son, Jordan, was born in 1990. Jordan was born at the Kreiskrankenhaus in downtown Crailsheim and will be 18 on July 18th when his option to be a German citizen will end. My time in Germany was really a pivotal time in my life. I was a newlywed when I arrived, my first child was born there, and my abiding passion for Europe was ignited.
Driving through Crailsheim, I was surprised to see more shops and stores than I remembered, but the McDonald´s, which had opened shortly before we left, was still going strong and had been remodeled. As I traveled toward our old military base things began to look unfamilair, until I spotted a landmark, Möbel Bohn (Bean Furniture). In front of our military quarters, in what had been an empty field, was a new shopping center and huge grocery store. I could just glimpse our old base housng through the buildings and had to circle around to locate the entrance.
Upon entering our housing area, I noticed how the trees have grown and matured, casting welcome shade over the street. The new residents are now allowed to landscape the green space between each apartment building, a strict no-no during my tenure. When the base was preparing to close in 1993 it was rumored that the housing was to be turned over to refugees from the former East Block countries. I don't actually know if that's what happened but I hope that a place I'd loved so much was used to help others build new lives. The buildings have been repainted cheerful colors with geometric desings in contrasting tones. I could see that the large window in the living/dining area had been altered to make room for a door leading onto a newly added balcony.
I walked across the road to where the military installation had actually been and all of the old buildings are gone. A new gymnasium stands where the commissary and guard shack had been and behind it empty, overgrown fields. It made me a bit melancholy. I remember walking those streets, past the barracks, to pick up mail every day or to visit the bank or Post Exchange (PX). All of it now gone. I took pictures to share with Tim and Jordan. Every one should know the place where their lives began.
I drove back downtown, parked the car, and visited a church that, somehow, Tim and I never found time to visit. I also located the hospital, still in operation, where my sweet baby was born. I had to take a picture there too. Maybe more for me than for Jordan. He has no memory of these places, however a piece of my heart still lives on there. I think a piece of Tim's does too. My memory is like a little time warp, allowing me to see fragments of the past as it was, not as it is now, and it made me cry a bit. It has been an emotional week for me.
Sunday, July 6, 2008
Saturday, July 5, 2008
A Second Beginning
Awaking before my alarm, I got dressed, finished packing, and walked into town for a last look. The village was just beginning to stir and I could hear the street sweeper making his morning rounds. Claudio was already serving people lined up at the caffe´, and many delivery trucks and vans were parked hapahyardly on both piazzas making their morning deliveries. I took a few last precious pictures of Cortona, my home away from home, before Maria and Laura drove me to the train station at 8:00. There were maybe 20 people waiting for the train with me and Laura felt sure one of the men would help me get my suitcase aboard the train. As it turns out, the men took one look at my big suitcase and fought each other to get on the train leaving me to wrestle the monster suitcase alone. A kind lady gave me a hand though, and since I could not find a place to put the luggage, I parked it in the corner of the train car which worked out fine. The train trip was uneventful and I gazed out the window listeing to my MP3 and crying a bit now and then. I am so happy that I have had this opportunity, but sad to leave people who were so kind and generous to me.
Upon pulling into the station in Florence, I dragged my 400 pound suitcase to the "left luggage" office where I checked it in for a few moments in order to search out a new pair of walking shoes. I trotted across the street to the Bata store, which was nearly deserted at 10:00 AM, and tried on a pair of running shoes, which turned out to be a good fit. I wore them out of the store leaving my old pair with the young saleswoman and loped back to te train station to pick up my suitcase which I then dragged to the other side of the station and down a flight of stairs. I wove my way across the street and around the corner to the bus station station where I lugged all my bags onto the airport shuttle exactly one minute before departure! I sat in a high seat at the front of the bus which gave me a wodnerful view of Florence as we left. Unfortunately, I also hd to keep one leg on the suitcase which had a tendency to tip into the aisle on sharp corners.
At the airport, the customs agent did not want to stamp my tax free forms as she said I am supposed to do it when I depart Europe for good. I explained I was going onto other countries and would not be leaving for months and she kindly agreed to go ahead and stamp them so I could get my 50 euro refund. I checked my bag in with Lufthansa and was informed it was overweight by about 2 kilos (4.5 pounds), but the agent politely agreed not to charge me an overweight fee. How lucky I was! I poked around the airport, had something to drink and ate a sandwich (mozzarella and prosciutto) before clearing security and making my way to the gate. Eventually, the assembled group of travelers was herded onto a couple of buses and driven to the tiny aircraft which ultimately departed nearly an hour late.
The plane was the same hip-squeezing model I´d taken to Florence. I am happy to report that, while the fit was tight and the seatbelt short, I was able to buckle it and not be in agony this time! I was still a bit weepy on the plane. Sometimes goodbyes are very hard for me and there is usually a time of melancholy while I adapt to a new situation. A pretty flight attendant passed out snacks of a cheese sandwich, an apple, and a candy bar. Good thing I accepted it as it turned out to be my last food of the day. The plane landed without incident and we were packed back into buses for what seemed like a 12 mile ride to the terminal. The luggage was delayed 45 minutes while they sorted it out and ferried it in from Cleveland, er...from the plane. I needed to use a restroom something terrible, however the baggage claim area had some sort of temporary facilities, and the women´s and handicapped toilets had overflowed creating a terrible mess and smell. In due course the suitcase arrived unharmed and I began a 6 mile hike to the car rental counter, then to the garage to find my car. I was given a royal blue Fiat Punto, the same car I´d had in Italy! Driving an Italian-made car alleviated just a tiny bit of my homesickness.
The drive to Rothenburg, the small town where I will be living for the next 2 months, took quite some time due to several traffic jams, known as "stau" in German. Once I reached Rothenburg and entered the town through one of the tower gates, I was unable to locate my apartment. Frustratingly, I could not match my printed directions with the layout of the town. What´s worse, in keeping with the quaintness of this ancient town, the street signs are printed in some kind of indecipherable calligraphy. Rothenburg us also full fo "einbahnstrassen", one-way streets, so I found myself circling the same few blocks over and over while I tried desperately to read the street signs. I took to waving cheerfully as I passed diners sitting at the outside tables of two restaurants watching me as I circled the block for the 17th time. Eventually, I parked the car and headed off on foot. My normally good sense of direction reasserted itself and I located my new home quickly. It was by now 8:45 PM and my landlords were waiting worriedly for me. They are very, very nice and my landlady, Frau Froehlich, walked back to the parkplatz with me to retrieve the vehicle and allowed me to park it in their gated driveway.
My little apartment is on the second floor and I spent some time unpacking and "nesting" as women like to do. Th St. Jakobs Kirche (church) is one block away and I have a lovely view of its spires from my living/sleeping room window. I also have a bathtub....what luxury! I am going to like it here!
Upon pulling into the station in Florence, I dragged my 400 pound suitcase to the "left luggage" office where I checked it in for a few moments in order to search out a new pair of walking shoes. I trotted across the street to the Bata store, which was nearly deserted at 10:00 AM, and tried on a pair of running shoes, which turned out to be a good fit. I wore them out of the store leaving my old pair with the young saleswoman and loped back to te train station to pick up my suitcase which I then dragged to the other side of the station and down a flight of stairs. I wove my way across the street and around the corner to the bus station station where I lugged all my bags onto the airport shuttle exactly one minute before departure! I sat in a high seat at the front of the bus which gave me a wodnerful view of Florence as we left. Unfortunately, I also hd to keep one leg on the suitcase which had a tendency to tip into the aisle on sharp corners.
At the airport, the customs agent did not want to stamp my tax free forms as she said I am supposed to do it when I depart Europe for good. I explained I was going onto other countries and would not be leaving for months and she kindly agreed to go ahead and stamp them so I could get my 50 euro refund. I checked my bag in with Lufthansa and was informed it was overweight by about 2 kilos (4.5 pounds), but the agent politely agreed not to charge me an overweight fee. How lucky I was! I poked around the airport, had something to drink and ate a sandwich (mozzarella and prosciutto) before clearing security and making my way to the gate. Eventually, the assembled group of travelers was herded onto a couple of buses and driven to the tiny aircraft which ultimately departed nearly an hour late.
The plane was the same hip-squeezing model I´d taken to Florence. I am happy to report that, while the fit was tight and the seatbelt short, I was able to buckle it and not be in agony this time! I was still a bit weepy on the plane. Sometimes goodbyes are very hard for me and there is usually a time of melancholy while I adapt to a new situation. A pretty flight attendant passed out snacks of a cheese sandwich, an apple, and a candy bar. Good thing I accepted it as it turned out to be my last food of the day. The plane landed without incident and we were packed back into buses for what seemed like a 12 mile ride to the terminal. The luggage was delayed 45 minutes while they sorted it out and ferried it in from Cleveland, er...from the plane. I needed to use a restroom something terrible, however the baggage claim area had some sort of temporary facilities, and the women´s and handicapped toilets had overflowed creating a terrible mess and smell. In due course the suitcase arrived unharmed and I began a 6 mile hike to the car rental counter, then to the garage to find my car. I was given a royal blue Fiat Punto, the same car I´d had in Italy! Driving an Italian-made car alleviated just a tiny bit of my homesickness.
The drive to Rothenburg, the small town where I will be living for the next 2 months, took quite some time due to several traffic jams, known as "stau" in German. Once I reached Rothenburg and entered the town through one of the tower gates, I was unable to locate my apartment. Frustratingly, I could not match my printed directions with the layout of the town. What´s worse, in keeping with the quaintness of this ancient town, the street signs are printed in some kind of indecipherable calligraphy. Rothenburg us also full fo "einbahnstrassen", one-way streets, so I found myself circling the same few blocks over and over while I tried desperately to read the street signs. I took to waving cheerfully as I passed diners sitting at the outside tables of two restaurants watching me as I circled the block for the 17th time. Eventually, I parked the car and headed off on foot. My normally good sense of direction reasserted itself and I located my new home quickly. It was by now 8:45 PM and my landlords were waiting worriedly for me. They are very, very nice and my landlady, Frau Froehlich, walked back to the parkplatz with me to retrieve the vehicle and allowed me to park it in their gated driveway.
My little apartment is on the second floor and I spent some time unpacking and "nesting" as women like to do. Th St. Jakobs Kirche (church) is one block away and I have a lovely view of its spires from my living/sleeping room window. I also have a bathtub....what luxury! I am going to like it here!
Friday, July 4, 2008
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