tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51661873617178413842024-02-07T21:16:18.420+01:00The Merleys in GermanyMerley95http://www.blogger.com/profile/14593642789355194954noreply@blogger.comBlogger170125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5166187361717841384.post-18029312249453828132011-03-10T09:55:00.003+01:002011-03-10T10:53:26.788+01:00Caution: you may have a strong opinion about these topics!Amsterdam is full of contrasts. It is has 214 rainy days per year but has the highest bicycle commuting rate in the world. It is home to some of the world's great works of art and to display windows featuring prostitutes. You find Anne Frank's powerful story of the Holocaust housed down the street from shops where marijuana can be purchased from a menu, alongside coffee, juice and sandwiches. Amsterdam will make you react, and if you let it, it can also make you think. <br /><br />Pragmatism appears to be a hallmark of the Dutch people. They seem to recognize that morality cannot be legislated, and their laws deal with reality. Prostitution exists in every country and every culture in the world; according to history, it always has. We may not like it but it is a fact. And it is a reality that does not seem to be diminished by legality. If the alternative doesn't curb the problem, could it be better to legitimize prostitution as an industry, regulate it for the safety of all who are involved and collect taxes to support such regulations? <br /><br />Another reality: people use drugs. Some of us use them to wake up in the morning, or to relax in the evening, or to take the edge off a stressful day. Coffee, alcohol, and tobacco are legal drugs in much of the world. Marijuana is also on that list in the Netherlands. It is hard to describe how normal and low-key the coffee shops are in Amsterdam. They are in tourist areas, shopping districts, residential neighborhoods. They look and feel like cafes. Unlike bars, they are quiet. Many are well-lit and cheerful. Some close early (like 7 PM) out of courtesy for their neighbors. The people inside look no different than the people outside. They give no evidence of being low-life addicts. By all appearances, it seems that people are just as capable of using marijuana responsibly as they are of using alcohol or caffeine responsibly. And there is no need for drug trafficking, organized crime, gangs, black market. As I watch the death toll rise daily in Mexico as a result of drug wars, I have to wonder if prohibition causes us to lose more than we gain. Over 3,000 lives lost in Juarez alone in 2010. <br /><br />These are big, big issues and can be deeply divisive. They are rooted in our cultural, religious and political beliefs. But I think it is worthwhile to acknowledge that there is more than one way to handle them and that some issues might not be as simple as <em>right</em> or <em>wrong</em>. If we cannot change the nature of human beings, then we have to choose if we want to live in a society whose laws are based on realism or idealism. And would we still feel that way if <em>our</em> beliefs were in the minority?Merley95http://www.blogger.com/profile/14593642789355194954noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5166187361717841384.post-47097244036913687182011-03-01T07:28:00.005+01:002011-03-02T07:39:09.525+01:00The practical Dutch and the talkative ItaliansWhile staying in an Amsterdam B&B, we met two women from Venice. Over breakfast, we mentioned that we had been there recently and had experienced the flooding of the city. One woman said that, while it is a beautiful place to live, many residents are leaving Venice because of the high cost of living, lack of jobs outside of tourism and the constant water problems. At this point, our host jumped into the conversation and enthusiastically offered that the Dutch could build dykes and dams to control the water and save the city; after all, they're the only reason the Netherlands isn't under water. To this offer, the other woman replied that the Italian government has been discussing many possible solutions over the last several years but still has not made any decisions. Our host worried that when they finally finished talking things over, Venice would already be sunk. "But at least we'll have had a good discussion," countered the Italian woman.<br /><br />After breakfast we really laughed about this exchange. Then we wondered- what character traits are Americans known for? Good ones? Bad ones? Quirky ones?Merley95http://www.blogger.com/profile/14593642789355194954noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5166187361717841384.post-84514564572877723012011-02-28T15:05:00.002+01:002011-02-28T15:47:25.007+01:00Anne FrankEveryone knows the name and some of the story. She was a Jewish girl whose family left Nazi Germany for the Netherlands in 1933. Along with her older sister, parents and four others, she hid for more than two years in rooms above an office building. All eight were betrayed into the hands of the Nazis several months before the end of the war. Anne died of typhus in Bergen Belsen concentration camp just weeks before the liberation; she was fifteen years old. She kept a diary of her life in hiding and that is why we know her story. <br /><br />I have had the privilege of visiting the Anne Frank house in Amsterdam twice within the last year. It is a moving experience and was no less so the second time. The story became a reality as I walked through the offices where business was conducted as usual while eight people remained silent through each day, fearing for their lives. And as I stood in Anne's room with pictures of movie stars and cute babies pasted to the walls, I could not help but see the author of this famous book for what she was- just a girl. A girl with a profound gift for writing and an amazing belief in the goodness of humanity, but just a girl all the same. She was growing up, she had hopes and dreams about her life, and she loved to write. Anne wanted to be an author and hoped she possessed the talent to write a great book that would live on after she died.<br /><br />I have tremendous admiration for the courage and devotion of her father Otto Frank, who made Anne's dream a reality. He was the only one of the eight people in the house to survive the concentration camps. He spent months searching for his daughters, only to find out that they had died within a few days of one another. He read Anne's diaries for the first time after he knew she would not come home and was amazed by how little he knew the daughter with whom he had been so close. Her wishes to be a writer helped convince him to publish her story. Otto opened the hidden rooms to the public and established a foundation to help the story live on. But he was adament that it was not just about Anne. He wanted to foster communication and awareness to overcome hatred, religious intolerance and racial prejudice in the world. Sadly, over 60 years after the end of the Holocaust, it is a lesson that we still have not learned.Merley95http://www.blogger.com/profile/14593642789355194954noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5166187361717841384.post-90290916689720297352011-02-23T17:23:00.003+01:002011-02-23T17:29:32.907+01:00Rush hour traffic jam<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQDNgIfkWmxJLNsM7-jt8Q2IQRlZg9QCZGKOBD5GZ9vx4o6B2DonUG0V6XhZPnpd7Z7n8UKTvWukrh7BD6rzs708OPQApmAeM4pMX2XoCg4kevDssfvYBUOMSngnaKoQmxDxuRbXWy8F8/s1600/IMG_5124.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576921804729636002" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQDNgIfkWmxJLNsM7-jt8Q2IQRlZg9QCZGKOBD5GZ9vx4o6B2DonUG0V6XhZPnpd7Z7n8UKTvWukrh7BD6rzs708OPQApmAeM4pMX2XoCg4kevDssfvYBUOMSngnaKoQmxDxuRbXWy8F8/s320/IMG_5124.JPG" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDivzkUX2kEi11B4yN0H9W2JSa8wIPhObXUsra_C_xDvCfhc-ODhhSAy8i17PZ43aZwz2ikggbF3Cuoj12bcQQz9dwlyKXSGXWQJAziFBpHweFWnPld1AUSqXhSec4e0I5CRclViH8FvY/s1600/IMG_5127.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576921795325283618" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDivzkUX2kEi11B4yN0H9W2JSa8wIPhObXUsra_C_xDvCfhc-ODhhSAy8i17PZ43aZwz2ikggbF3Cuoj12bcQQz9dwlyKXSGXWQJAziFBpHweFWnPld1AUSqXhSec4e0I5CRclViH8FvY/s320/IMG_5127.JPG" /></a> </div><div>Don't you hate it when a local farmer chooses 5:00 PM to herd his goats and sheep right through the center of town?! Village traffic was at least ten or fifteen cars deep! Aaron and I ran three blocks to catch up so we could take these pictures and marvel at the scene. We were laughing so hard. No one sitting in their cars looked very amused... </div><div> </div><div>By the way, have you ever seen shepard dogs in action? They're really amazing! <br /><br />Aaaah, the country life- how I will miss it!</div><div></div>Merley95http://www.blogger.com/profile/14593642789355194954noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5166187361717841384.post-32833263896032718202011-02-16T08:18:00.003+01:002011-02-16T08:41:02.614+01:00Why change is goodI have been feeling bad about not writing as often as I used to and wondering why it seems that I have nothing to say. When I first arrived in Germany, I could hardly take it all in. Things were so strange and new and I noticed everything- big things like people walking to the grocery store regardless of the weather and little things like the weird adoption of English words into the German language. <em>Shoppen in der City?</em> Really? <br /><br />Now it's been nearly three years and I have gradually grown accustomed to all the aspects of my life here. I don't even notice the thatched roofs on the houses that seemed so quaint and so "German" at first. I don't think twice, though I do still complain, about heading out with an umbrella if we need milk on a rainy day. Basically, this strange new world has become familiar.<br /><br />It seems that making a big change in my life woke me up in many ways. I saw things differently, even the things that didn't change. I questioned routines and beliefs that I had always taken for granted. <em>I changed. </em>But human nature trumps all, and over time I found a routine, formed habits. I began to do things by rote, without having to think about them. Somewhere along the way I began to pay less attention to all the interesting things around me. And I believe that it is mostly a matter of paying attention, of choosing how we view the world that determines whether we find joy and humor and discovery in each day. It's not what we see but how we look at it. So let's see what today brings...Merley95http://www.blogger.com/profile/14593642789355194954noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5166187361717841384.post-58929422568046915672011-02-07T15:14:00.002+01:002011-02-07T15:36:31.771+01:00A few of your favorite things?What foods would you miss if you lived outside of the U.S.? It's hard to really answer that until you know what your options are in another country. It is endlessly amusing for me to see what you can get here and what is generally not available. For instance, if you love Doritos you are in luck. M&Ms? Snickers bars? Mars bars? No problem. Pringles? Got 'em. Even Snyder's pretzels are here. Cola-cola appears to be universal so no worries there. But if you are a Pepsi drinker, you've got trouble. Root beer? No way! Butterfinger candy bars? Three Musketeers bars? Nope. <br /><br />I love to bake and I have been frustrated by the differences in baking supplies. I can't find brown sugar (though I have found it in all neighboring countries), baking soda, vanilla extract (they use a powder/flavored sugar instead) or vegetable shortening. <br /><br />The big supermarket nearby just revamped their International Foods aisle and I was tickled to see an <em>American</em> section. American food is <em>international</em>? Well of course it is in Germany. The nearby sections for Italian, French and Greek foods looked so exotic and sophisticated with their fancy pastas, olive oil, sun-dried tomatoes and stuffed peppers. The American section looked like an accumulation of products advertised during Saturday morning cartoons. The <em>delicacies</em> available, and presumably in demand, include marshmallows, Swiss Miss cocoa mix, Pop-Tarts, Aunt Jemima syrup, real Canadian maple syrup (that's funny, huh), microwave popcorn, peanut butter and Lucky Charms cereal. They also had Crisco and baking soda. Maybe one of these days I'll stake out the store and watch who buys all this stuff. Maybe I could make an American friend!Merley95http://www.blogger.com/profile/14593642789355194954noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5166187361717841384.post-58817253605048342322011-01-31T07:43:00.002+01:002011-01-31T08:18:38.249+01:00Death of a Power ConverterTragedy struck our household last week. My 750-watt step-down transformer, absolutely central to my life as a <em>Hausfrau</em>, gave up the ghost. It has powered my coffee maker, my mixer, my blender, my vacuum. Clearly, I cannot go on without coffee, baked goods and clean floors. <br /><br />What is it, you ask? I had never even considered such a device until we planned our move to Europe. We came here with all our household belongings, including appliances that were designed for 110 volts of power, what comes out of the walls in American homes. Here, however, the wall provides 220 volts! All that power would just fry anything that we plugged in. It turns out that it's not as simple as getting a plug that fits the big round shape of the outlets. We had to buy a device to decrease the voltage to 110. But it's not only about voltage; there's also wattage to consider. Bottom line- appliances that mix, heat up or suck dust draw a lot of watts and a converter has a limit to how much it can handle. That means of course, that it's hard to find one that will meet the requirements of our appliances. We've only ever found them from U.S. companies. So, here we are just months from the end of our European experience- close enough that it seems like a waste to buy a new one and have it shipped overseas, far enough that I can't really get away with not vacuuming again. <br /><br />Aaron and I had numerous discussions about the replacement of the the power converter and ultimately decided to buy another one. And that was the big happening of the week. Isn't it strange the things that can occupy so much of our time and energy? Things that are so essential to day-to-day life but really so mundane and trivial. I suppose that's just part of the business of living.Merley95http://www.blogger.com/profile/14593642789355194954noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5166187361717841384.post-55988536143424384282011-01-24T13:20:00.002+01:002011-01-24T13:40:10.492+01:00Life without a passportWhen you don't have a passport, you can't leave the country. This is hardly a newsflash and hardly matters to any of you. But when you are living in a foreign country, being without your passport is a distinctly uncomfortable feeling. A week and a half ago, I sent off my passport to the U.S. Embassy. It's still valid for another five years but I ran out of pages. The government was happy to tape in about 20 additional pages for just $84, and was anxious to get it taken care of since I have no immediate travel plans. <br /><br />Nevertheless, I experienced a moment of panic as I handed the envelope over at the post office and began thinking of all the scenarios that would require me to immediately travel back to the U.S. I even imagined situations that might require me to spontaneously present my passport to the authorities. Which authorities? I couldn't really say. Aside from my annual trip to renew my residency permit, I have never been stopped or asked to show my passport by any authority anywhere in Europe. BUT, it could happen. Then Aaron had an unexpected day off work, giving us a 3-day weekend. I thought it would have been great to go to Amsterdam or Copenhagen but remembered that I probably shouldn't go traipsing about without any identification. I don't actually know what the rules are about this but it does seem unwise to cross international borders, even in these days of the open borders of the EU. We stayed home quite contentedly and I probably only felt like going somewhere because I couldn't. <br /><br />Happily, the taping in of new pages only required my passport to go to Berlin and not all the way to the U.S., as passport renewals have to do. I was relieved when the doorbell rang and the postman handed me my self-addressed stamped envelope with my newly amended passport inside. I still have no plans to travel, but there is something comforting and freeing in knowing that I can!Merley95http://www.blogger.com/profile/14593642789355194954noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5166187361717841384.post-15398308168185390432011-01-14T07:49:00.002+01:002011-01-14T08:02:22.338+01:00God bless Deutsche Post!I haven't sent a lot of mail since moving to Germany, which has been sad because I have more time to write letters and remember everyone's birthdays. Maybe I'm stingy but paying 1.70 Euro (about $2.20) to mail a card seemed exorbitant to me. But however outrageous the price, sometimes I just need to get something to the U.S. So, I went to the post office last week with a stack of things to mail and the total price already calculated in my head. The woman at the counter said there were new prices this year and I thought, "Great- even more money!" So when the total was 2.50 Euro LESS than I expected I thought she must have made a mistake (a highly unlikely scenario). I paid, asked for a price list and got out of there before someone figured out that I'd paid too little. Sure enough, DP streamlined their rates with the result that mail going out of Europe is now cheaper than it was two weeks ago. Sending a normal sized card or letter now costs just 0.75 Euro, a 0.95 Euro savings! Wow! The news just made my day! It's just the little things in life, isn't it?Merley95http://www.blogger.com/profile/14593642789355194954noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5166187361717841384.post-26618434810429896762011-01-10T08:53:00.002+01:002011-01-10T09:14:21.416+01:00Slow down!Whoa! Time is moving too quickly for me. I've barely had time to reflect on the experiences I've just had before new ones come along. I didn't even finish writing about the trip to Italy and now the holidays, along with our visit to the States, has come and gone and we're already into the second week of a new year! It seems impossible to summarize so where do I pick up? <br /><br />2010 was undoubtedly a banner year. It will be hard to top in terms of new experiences and new places. As Ol' Blue Eyes sang, "It was a very good year," and ended with the best of all- celebrating Christmas with our families back home. <br /><br />And now begins this year of transition, bringing with it a multitude of feelings. Both glad and sorry that this season of life in Germany will be ending. Excited and anxious about the new opportunities and possibilities of life in America. Overwhelmed by the arduous process of packing and preparing for an international move. Nervous about my ability to write a convincing resume, interview successfully and jump back into a career that I've been away from for nearly three years. And yet I am enthusiastic to return to my job, the feeling of doing what I love to do, what I'm trained for. Looking forward to being part of a professional team and making a positive difference in peoples' healthcare experience. <br /><br />With so many great memories of our recent experiences and so much to anticipate about the life that lies ahead, I am finding it difficult to stay grounded in the moment and continue with the activities that make up day-to-day life here. And yet one lesson that has been repeated again and again for me is the importance of living each day, enjoying each moment to its fullest. I heard it put this way once- you have traded a day of your life for <em>this</em> day and it will never be again. Make the most of it!Merley95http://www.blogger.com/profile/14593642789355194954noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5166187361717841384.post-17868695425817392452010-12-01T08:37:00.004+01:002010-12-01T09:01:04.638+01:00Sunny day hike<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3G8e382fGxPsK-85_cOftqS7OmT0CD1aJJcf11hUovJ8ZvWdA6xV822dHZ2aCKPyUQn7OOFEn9rxr4yu6_WveTwLsqjKDmQ1QfYfVAsbGrAYy1jNCIH2Madk9_VLCRHWM0ubVCyDjuZM/s1600/IMG_4780.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5545616085967411234" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3G8e382fGxPsK-85_cOftqS7OmT0CD1aJJcf11hUovJ8ZvWdA6xV822dHZ2aCKPyUQn7OOFEn9rxr4yu6_WveTwLsqjKDmQ1QfYfVAsbGrAYy1jNCIH2Madk9_VLCRHWM0ubVCyDjuZM/s320/IMG_4780.JPG" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdRKxl7Pt6QnfujDgpEH4JugEdNMco_1_mmpoL-0BYJ4p95pGoMCcQadS-E4vWuIAXIimEGoW8slK0Y-7rt94-9M5qdFwHuEbdLbcL5LKoiOvL1ujq0NDry_JcZNXfCkdIkMsoSXZMZeQ/s1600/IMG_4779.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5545616079455002594" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdRKxl7Pt6QnfujDgpEH4JugEdNMco_1_mmpoL-0BYJ4p95pGoMCcQadS-E4vWuIAXIimEGoW8slK0Y-7rt94-9M5qdFwHuEbdLbcL5LKoiOvL1ujq0NDry_JcZNXfCkdIkMsoSXZMZeQ/s320/IMG_4779.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><div>As I thaw out from an hour spent shoveling four inches (and counting) of snow, it seems like a good time to further reflect on our recent Italian holiday. </div><div> </div><div>Our last day in Vernazza dawned sunny with a promise of warmth. We were so delighted because we wanted to hike a section of the Cinque Terre National Park trail, which connects all five towns in the area. Monterosso al Mare, the next town, was quite close as the crow flies or as the boat sails. To walk there we had to climb up and over and out and around the mountains through olive groves, vineyards and even homes tucked in the steep cliffs. It was breathtaking- the vast sea stretching out in so many shades of blue under the sun, the surf crashing against the rocks far below us. </div><div> </div><div>When we arrived in Monterosso, we visited the weekly farmer's market and bought picnic supplies, then ate on a bench where we could watch both the bustle of townspeople and the waves rolling onto the beach. Later we rolled up our pants and walked in the sand, dipped our toes in the water, collected sea glass and reveled in the feeling of having nothing better to do with our day. At a beachfront cafe, we joined other tourists at the outdoor tables for a glass of wine before starting our trek back to Vernazza. We got back in time to sit on the terrace above our hotel and catch a lovely sunset. It was a perfect day!</div><div> </div><div>But it's still snowing here... </div></div>Merley95http://www.blogger.com/profile/14593642789355194954noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5166187361717841384.post-70690579262386682612010-11-25T12:12:00.003+01:002010-11-25T13:00:59.357+01:00A quiet village on the coast<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg49QWeCz3XrVWnX8rH-fAJ0KR9BfkmKkVdpJv6lS5qcY5Xzia5CgjlDunEs54Z3HZK6gQzIgl_gBpiMyDmCwc9SuQs85sL2d58SppQ9csl88-dFYB81nZn7V7TeHwa76v-KhGcH5Uj1FM/s1600/IMG_4783.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5543447441592713250" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg49QWeCz3XrVWnX8rH-fAJ0KR9BfkmKkVdpJv6lS5qcY5Xzia5CgjlDunEs54Z3HZK6gQzIgl_gBpiMyDmCwc9SuQs85sL2d58SppQ9csl88-dFYB81nZn7V7TeHwa76v-KhGcH5Uj1FM/s320/IMG_4783.JPG" /></a> Village of Vernazza- population 500 (+ tourists)<br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkbM3TOZA613W-5IdAsARNzIrIEDGZjRdLP71wIr5JVryHbEkrEoLp9bBUK-EpiLgRznFxi38yhhB9tlrSBl7cT8Iholy4jaWonO9VCceP5Nmso08ZDlrp6VQnpeDyUkYtLjmXhoMakX8/s1600/IMG_4704.JPG"></a><br /><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCcB7-MJ7E-5oQ97IgnpYzyNesYfulQQAeR3CrQK7Op-Nfpuv2mnuPplq1WTj6HgzMbw-2kyj6MszzciYmDvgFF1_f5SHaJ6oZu8MElmEAguxdCYBPWI2fMlLOV6jaFCBHoVB0Gyymcc0/s1600/IMG_4704.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5543447433147647682" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCcB7-MJ7E-5oQ97IgnpYzyNesYfulQQAeR3CrQK7Op-Nfpuv2mnuPplq1WTj6HgzMbw-2kyj6MszzciYmDvgFF1_f5SHaJ6oZu8MElmEAguxdCYBPWI2fMlLOV6jaFCBHoVB0Gyymcc0/s320/IMG_4704.JPG" /></a> View from our hotel room balcony!<br /><br /><div align="left">From Venice on the northeast coast, we drove to Vernazza on the northwest coast, near Genoa. We had no idea how mountainous and wild it would be. We felt like we were a long ways from everything. The road into town was steep, narrow and winding. Heavy rain had caused landslides so we had to detour on even tinier and more spine-tingling roads. There are no cars allowed into town so we parked and walked nearly half a mile (tough to find a flat spot for a parking lot) to the seaside fishing village. It was quaint and picturesque, just as you would imagine it to be. </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">In summer, Vernazza and the other towns that make up the <em>Cinque Terre</em>- Five Lands- are packed with tourists who flock there for the sun, sea and atmosphere. As we strolled into town on a rainy Tuesday in November, we wondered if we had made a mistake. The three ice cream shops were all closed and we came to find out that only a handful of businesses had regular hours. </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">But we slowed down and just enjoyed climbing up to the cliff tops for great views, lingering over a morning espresso, exploring all the narrow alleys tucked back in neighborhoods and watching the sun sink into the Mediterranean each afternoon. We pondered how they could possibly plant vineyards on seemingly impossible inclines and how they planned to harvest olives from trees barely clinging to the mountainside. We saw old fishermen repairing nets on the docks and watched women talking animatedly outside the market. Dinner was our evening entertainment. The restaurant owners took such pride in their food and wine. It was a delight to try the local specialties: just-caught seafood, homemade pasta, fresh pesto, and the best tiramisu I've ever tasted. The quiet simplicity of this town in the off-season seemed like it could cast a spell on you and make you never want to leave!</div></div>Merley95http://www.blogger.com/profile/14593642789355194954noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5166187361717841384.post-61002133903995051752010-11-23T08:06:00.002+01:002010-11-23T08:42:16.335+01:00Venice- the floating (or sinking?) city<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_4cGXOwYrgcAhQQPUAhIbvRqZ3ChWmL7VmeQqNgaueVtpwPNBNBsMoRDrP7I55Ek9r8taCTXHkKaDcHmYAMMXIvMRx9Mqp3s0TqXwe_UEDvaBC8qW8TrrG0FfJ7xnHUuzXiuPvCEssDg/s1600/IMG_4674.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5542639774098195362" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_4cGXOwYrgcAhQQPUAhIbvRqZ3ChWmL7VmeQqNgaueVtpwPNBNBsMoRDrP7I55Ek9r8taCTXHkKaDcHmYAMMXIvMRx9Mqp3s0TqXwe_UEDvaBC8qW8TrrG0FfJ7xnHUuzXiuPvCEssDg/s320/IMG_4674.JPG" /></a>The main square- flooded by rain and tide!<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicybQNtmrT_1UyXDHjTj55-iIklUP5IKAlO9gh9f0LDjMoVqcD2EbgAQNDy035R-YPMie1Hq4ion0y9NndEqlZgnG97yLKqu8R_1fiFumKCyd26TZlZvmOAqIYH0qCBaQJweDq-HvPa8g/s1600/IMG_4650.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5542639294677018658" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicybQNtmrT_1UyXDHjTj55-iIklUP5IKAlO9gh9f0LDjMoVqcD2EbgAQNDy035R-YPMie1Hq4ion0y9NndEqlZgnG97yLKqu8R_1fiFumKCyd26TZlZvmOAqIYH0qCBaQJweDq-HvPa8g/s320/IMG_4650.JPG" /></a> It really looks like this!<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPFUHNWbGT7sifm-ztFt-AlhlWBeKRrFy0tBblTvXNeaW6NUL16TiTImNWOKlUzGTtSrqM-qwj9c_1kUYDzkSNNpwkObD8armHrk0Kh3no7yR0w-JJipH9e9IwBTFuw-aPyDK3wNZemW8/s1600/IMG_4646.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5542639288936645010" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPFUHNWbGT7sifm-ztFt-AlhlWBeKRrFy0tBblTvXNeaW6NUL16TiTImNWOKlUzGTtSrqM-qwj9c_1kUYDzkSNNpwkObD8armHrk0Kh3no7yR0w-JJipH9e9IwBTFuw-aPyDK3wNZemW8/s320/IMG_4646.JPG" /></a> View from our hotel room</div><div> </div><div align="left">We're home, plugged back into the real world, already reiminiscing about the wonderful places we saw in Italy and trying to work off a few pounds of pasta and pizza! Our first stop was Venice. It's the craziest city I have ever been in! We took a water bus (i.e., boat) from the airport to the city, which exists completely on an island intersected by countless canals. There are absolutely no cars- imagine every road in your town turned into a winding river, every vehicle turned into a boat and every crosswalk turned into a bridge. The city is a labryinth and it is impossible not to get lost. Many times we turned a corner only to find that our path was a dead-end at the water. So-called streets are as wide as sidewalks; in some we had to turn sideways to allow another person to pass. We often had to collapse our umbrella to avoid scraping buildings on each side. Everything seems mysterious and hidden away. </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">Apparently, Venice really is sinking. The city floods an average of 100 times each year, mostly in winter. We were lucky enough to witness the city on a "flood alarm" day. Boats full of sandbags roared past our hotel window early. Over the course of the morning, the water literally just rose up over the seawalls into the city. All over town there were wooden platforms at the ready, to be unfolded and stretched along the sidewalks when the water came up. Most first floor buildings had little flood gates across the lower half of their doors. The main square-normally a hub of tourist activity with cafes, cathedral and palace- became a vast wading pool, deep enough in some places to make even rubber boots useless. So all the tourists shuffled along on the narrow walkways, bumping into each others' umbrellas and trying to avoid falling off the side into the knee-deep water. It was a fascinating spectacle and fortunately it did not affect our sight-seeing plans too much. The following morning the flood alarm sounded again but we were already packed up and getting on a water bus to the train station. One day in a flooded city was enough! </div><br /></div>Merley95http://www.blogger.com/profile/14593642789355194954noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5166187361717841384.post-42134534385655614642010-11-06T09:01:00.002+01:002010-11-06T09:11:14.950+01:00UnpluggingToday Aaron and I are leaving for a two-week holiday. Though it seems we are always on the go, this is the first time that Aaron has ever taken two consecutive weeks off strictly for the fun of it. He's quite excited and I am delighted to have him to myself. We'll be taking a road trip through Italy so I will have lots to report when I return. <br /><br />In total defiance of this 21st century world, we are not taking our laptop and we do not even own cell phones so we will be totally disconnected from the greater world. It's an uneasy feeling in this day and age but I think that it is important to slow down. It was not long ago that we never expected everyone and everything to be accessible 24 hours a day. Our vacation will be a good exercise in "being present in the moment," something I need to learn again and again. We'll see what <em>la dolce vita</em> is really like!Merley95http://www.blogger.com/profile/14593642789355194954noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5166187361717841384.post-78651913024870375322010-11-01T08:13:00.003+01:002010-11-01T08:40:29.011+01:00Where have I been?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4yRb0uMyDh9xGrqF43trItepuH9y78ZOs1S_tflRFs-Y2xIZKtx1mFqzSaPEdbAvpgeH8Y99k5BfOgrp5a6_DVWx4IKQlg8E9GAkRghh7Gkz8rqJ39zLP2ORdw1c3ENmJyE86mbN8gIQ/s1600/IMG_4616.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534476872988833618" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4yRb0uMyDh9xGrqF43trItepuH9y78ZOs1S_tflRFs-Y2xIZKtx1mFqzSaPEdbAvpgeH8Y99k5BfOgrp5a6_DVWx4IKQlg8E9GAkRghh7Gkz8rqJ39zLP2ORdw1c3ENmJyE86mbN8gIQ/s320/IMG_4616.JPG" /></a> <div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRdmqsSXjLHoNWyl5sRiI8e6dIiMXfF2WvrtnrD_OIAwjk9UWjNBWr21CmbcMAjJhWMV4lxkQj9ogRNlgtgIyFxdOVrntxD0k-0JwnHLEd6vQf6AY_xkveNtBeGQM-a9E0_gLIsvCqxKY/s1600/IMG_4594.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534476863566756674" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRdmqsSXjLHoNWyl5sRiI8e6dIiMXfF2WvrtnrD_OIAwjk9UWjNBWr21CmbcMAjJhWMV4lxkQj9ogRNlgtgIyFxdOVrntxD0k-0JwnHLEd6vQf6AY_xkveNtBeGQM-a9E0_gLIsvCqxKY/s320/IMG_4594.JPG" /></a></div><div><div>I don't have much of an excuse for missing an entire month. I'm not sure exactly where the time went.<br /><br />We did travel to the United States for the first time this year, spending a few days in Dallas (skyline behind me) and in Nevada (Aaron standing on red rocks at Red Rocks Canyon). It was strictly business, as I had a 4-day genetics conference in Texas and then Aaron had a 2-day conference in Las Vegas. We delighted in the Southern hospitality that met us in the Lone Star State. The welcome was big, the trucks were big and the meal portions were big! But we ate as much BBQ and Mexican food as we could and it tasted as delicious as we had been imagining all these months! Yum! There are lots of great things in Europe but there are just some things you miss from home.<br /><br />Though I have been in Las Vegas before, this time it completely overwhelmed me. It is the epicenter of excess and I just couldn't reconcile myself to needing a map to navigate our hotel, paying over $40 for breakfast and seeing flashing lights 24 hours a day, both inside and outside. But strangely, the LV Strip is a relatively quiet and peaceful place to run at about 7 o'clock in the morning and I enjoyed the cool sunny mornings. We also enjoyed our last day, when we drove just 20 minutes out of the city into breathtaking desert and mountain wilderness. What a contrast from the lights and sounds of the city!<br /><br />We had a very smooth and uneventful trip until we arrived back in Hamburg at 9:15 PM and our driver from Aaron's company was nowhere to be found. After traveling for nearly 24 hours and spending the night sitthing on a plane, this was a little more than frustrating. We waited for an hour, alternating between worry that he'd had an accident, being annoyed that someone at the company messed up the schedule and debating on who we could call and what they could do for us. Finally, at nearly 11:00 PM we rented a car and left the airport terminal. We ended up with a Smart car and barely fit our two small suitcases and ourselves into it! I could still see the humor in our situation despite the late hour and frustration so I snapped a picture of Aaron loading up our tiny auto. He was not amused but after a night's rest he could laugh about it. And it turned out that the driver had arrived to pick us up at 9:15 in the morning and no one at the company could sort out the mistake in the twelve hours in between. Hmm?<br />Oh well! If that's the worst that happened, we are lucky! <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRdmqsSXjLHoNWyl5sRiI8e6dIiMXfF2WvrtnrD_OIAwjk9UWjNBWr21CmbcMAjJhWMV4lxkQj9ogRNlgtgIyFxdOVrntxD0k-0JwnHLEd6vQf6AY_xkveNtBeGQM-a9E0_gLIsvCqxKY/s1600/IMG_4594.JPG"></a></div></div>Merley95http://www.blogger.com/profile/14593642789355194954noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5166187361717841384.post-9687766868970700202010-09-29T10:49:00.002+02:002010-09-30T11:44:59.711+02:00A 26.2 mile-long day!<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHjUvBeCXwl9zJfRFet_BT1y_rzZMpB1Saoww0u1syzm5R7-KemDtY9EQtqiDzsHhqqOOpPJQ-ZXRAnUUZcUTFvGP3u3HaPVUousN38pAgEzWeH2qQliS6WvI-rpF2D9Gs-xLRGQ2_d44/s1600/IMG_4573.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5522255734633078850" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHjUvBeCXwl9zJfRFet_BT1y_rzZMpB1Saoww0u1syzm5R7-KemDtY9EQtqiDzsHhqqOOpPJQ-ZXRAnUUZcUTFvGP3u3HaPVUousN38pAgEzWeH2qQliS6WvI-rpF2D9Gs-xLRGQ2_d44/s320/IMG_4573.JPG" /></a> Confession: It was NA beer </div><div align="center">and he didn't drink much of it! </div><br /><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQB3d2TOKURdsif1EmByKXKKPmpQLzAxiGTYn_SJv4STXh0zitTcmz-BjKSfFx0Ik3GIdSxzh2bZW2iNuytlpQOudU2XRu1gorghuET2sJCjCOUS1JMoYtbLp3ff6f5ezYKQA5Q0B0_Kk/s1600/IMG_4574.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5522255731180396466" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQB3d2TOKURdsif1EmByKXKKPmpQLzAxiGTYn_SJv4STXh0zitTcmz-BjKSfFx0Ik3GIdSxzh2bZW2iNuytlpQOudU2XRu1gorghuET2sJCjCOUS1JMoYtbLp3ff6f5ezYKQA5Q0B0_Kk/s320/IMG_4574.JPG" /></a><br />I really felt this happy but you should<br />have seen me try to walk. Ouch!<br /><br /><br /><br /><div align="left">We did it! Sunday we ran the Berlin marathon, for which we had been training for over four months. It was all worth it. What an amazing experience! </div><br /><div align="left"></div><div align="left">There were nearly 41,000 registered runners from all over the world- Japan, Korea, South Africa, Brazil, Mexico, US, Canada and of course every European country. The race course was elbow to elbow the whole time. There must have been a million people lining the route- cheering, waving flags and signs, clapping, dancing. It was wonderful to see all the families and friends, standing out in the pouring rain in enthusiastic support of their runners. There were dozens of bands playing every kind of music. Thousands of volunteers gave out water, sports drinks and fruit, flagged the course route and generally helped make sure everything ran smoothly. </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">I can say so much about the day but I can't yet find the words to describe how it felt to cross the finish line after running 26 miles, training for 18 weeks and accomplishing a lifetime goal. It was a moment I'll never forget. </div></div>Merley95http://www.blogger.com/profile/14593642789355194954noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5166187361717841384.post-321235173262993142010-09-20T15:36:00.003+02:002010-09-20T15:52:32.399+02:00Looking for rainbows<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB7wQ6JR26vmfaVwJKcdbcWuTjJjUIySb2TQCQ_Zldcyh3E3ww5FUmrVzMKrOwyoXG98XcjoijQuPLHQwRiDeXR2INAzidieW6M__1zRwJPyJXNvicgoInmGfRbV5miyG1a3daF7B2KvE/s1600/IMG_0974.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518989361980206498" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB7wQ6JR26vmfaVwJKcdbcWuTjJjUIySb2TQCQ_Zldcyh3E3ww5FUmrVzMKrOwyoXG98XcjoijQuPLHQwRiDeXR2INAzidieW6M__1zRwJPyJXNvicgoInmGfRbV5miyG1a3daF7B2KvE/s320/IMG_0974.JPG" /></a> We've been having the strangest weather lately. It has been windy and raining nearly nonstop for the last two weeks. I'm super-duper sick of it. I start to feel claustrophic; I get crabby and hard to live with, even for myself! Gray skies, damp air, harsh wind- even Pollyanna might have her spirits dampened after a while. But the really strange part of this weather is that five or six times a day, the wind blows enough of the clouds away to reveal a snippet of brilliant blue sky or a bit of sunshine. It fools you into thinking the storm is over and you can go out for a walk or hang laundry on the line. Then ten minutes later, sometimes with sunshine and blue sky lingering, it begins to rain again. It's almost worse than never seeing the clear sky at all. However, I have seen more rainbows in the last several days than I have ever seen in my life. They're so vivid and beautiful and I can't help but smile. A rainbow is so fleeting that to catch sight of one feels like being in on a secret, sneaking an extra helping of delight when everyone's back is turned. So while part of me is chanting, "Rain, rain, go away..." another part is remembering the saying "Without rain, there are no rainbows." <br /><div></div>Merley95http://www.blogger.com/profile/14593642789355194954noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5166187361717841384.post-69097484723955304592010-09-10T10:25:00.002+02:002010-09-10T10:58:02.709+02:00The meaning of dreamsSince moving here, my dreams have been haunted by ghosts of the past. It sounds a little dramatic but for some reason, people from different times and places in my life have been showing up pretty frequently at night. I'm tempted to psychoanalyze and figure out why this is happening and why certain people who I haven't thought of for years are suddenly showing up to help me bake cookies for my dog's birthday or competing against me in a surfing contest during a hurricane. By the way, I don't have a dog, know how to surf or have any deep fear of natural disasters. Man, dreams are weird! <br /><br />Rather than delve into the innermost recesses of my psyche, I have been reflecting on the fact that my life has crossed paths with an awful lot of people in thirty-three years. These dreams make me realize that every friend, every classmate, every acquaintance, every neighbor has made a kind of indelible imprint on my life. And likewise, I have made some impression on every person I've known. <br /><br />Imagine if we could really see these impressions, like stamps or tattoos on our bodies. We'd all be covered in the unique signatures of those we've known. Some might be tiny little stamps, like a nice (or mean) old neighbor lady who lived down the street. Some would be big John Hancock-like scrawls from the important figures of our lives- parents and siblings, childhood best friends, first loves, college roommates. <br /><br />Looking back, I can only wonder what kind of mark I have made in people's lives but going forward I'm determined to be more aware that everything I do is part of the impression I leave in someone's life. The little things do matter because they are what make up the big things. Every smile and kind word but also every snub and snide remark make up my signature. Thirty years from now when someone runs their fingers over that mark, I want the memories to bring a smile to their face.Merley95http://www.blogger.com/profile/14593642789355194954noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5166187361717841384.post-30508770037643883372010-09-06T17:48:00.002+02:002010-09-06T18:04:24.588+02:00Finding Uncle Sam in Denmark<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcK9UdLfMrIwXnWe80Bylq1e6LGMC6SgNSaau-R1W8aZK2xQih4tvPwJWcthKSpHLbxr13qsCqS7zlpse8chuQeL6d8MJascSeGzxYfWfS7S28cOf7OxKzTdFT1bkTCS83np1oOHgRjZ8/s1600/IMG_4529.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513828433915442338" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcK9UdLfMrIwXnWe80Bylq1e6LGMC6SgNSaau-R1W8aZK2xQih4tvPwJWcthKSpHLbxr13qsCqS7zlpse8chuQeL6d8MJascSeGzxYfWfS7S28cOf7OxKzTdFT1bkTCS83np1oOHgRjZ8/s320/IMG_4529.JPG" /></a> Denmark's second city, Aarhus, is just two hours north of us. We'd heard good things about it and decided it was a perfect location for a weekend get-away to celebrate Aaron's birthday. It was a festival weekend so downtown was hopping and we had a delicious dinner at a local brewery on Friday night. Aaron indulged in some bbq ribs, something not often found around here, and they tasted gooood! <br /><br />On Saturday, we wandered the city and found this little place called The Cockney Pub. It was packed with locals before noon and as we entered we saw that they were celebrating American Beer Week. What a surprise! In Germany, you're hard pressed to find anything other than German beer but apparently in Denmark they embrace the whole wide world of brewing. Of course I chose something Danish and Aaron tried an English ale but this poster of Uncle Sam, whose face I have seen with alarming frequency since living in Europe, really made us laugh!<br /><br />We awoke to a beautiful sunny morning on Aaron's birthday and had a lazy breakfast before heading back. When we arrived, Aaron set out to run 33 kilometers to mark his 33rd birthday. Then we ate tacos and chocolate cake, also part of the training plan! Ha!Merley95http://www.blogger.com/profile/14593642789355194954noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5166187361717841384.post-40796001689482116412010-08-25T12:03:00.002+02:002010-08-25T16:27:16.744+02:00Come one, come all, to see world-famous Rocks!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFpUOzwIA0K2hLYYPe0r4u6sq2mZHBFqy3SJ8mv5x6l5ANWj9JCtXwxU9t0Pf-K6s9xcBsLZACHZ0-XDgRZP2ceA_yXMasfC4WgL7NhGNS8rg0D6PQedpeFNXEoG2KU1zishdQEQa8bWc/s1600/IMG_4426.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509302415703636194" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFpUOzwIA0K2hLYYPe0r4u6sq2mZHBFqy3SJ8mv5x6l5ANWj9JCtXwxU9t0Pf-K6s9xcBsLZACHZ0-XDgRZP2ceA_yXMasfC4WgL7NhGNS8rg0D6PQedpeFNXEoG2KU1zishdQEQa8bWc/s320/IMG_4426.JPG" /></a><br /><div>The realm of tourism is full of kitsch, replicas and false history. Real mummies, wax museums, medieval torture dungeons, etc. We’ve all seen them. Apparently, we humans can’t resist good fanciful fiction if it’s better than the facts. But I believe the greatest marketing coup of all time has to be selling rocks. I can almost see some shamster concocting a whopper of a tale about rare and ancient stones, charging people admission to see them and laughing all the way to the bank. <br /><br />But rocks are serious business all over the world. Just think of Plymouth Rock, the Blarney Stone and the mother of them all, Stonehenge. It turns out that when we blindly chose to run a race in Salisbury, England, we were placing ourselves within ten miles of this mysterious ancient ring o’ rocks. We figured we better go see it and when we found out that a bus would pick us up in town and haul us out to the middle of the fields where said stones lay, we knew it wouldn’t get any easier. Away we went on a classic red double-decker bus, with tour narration entertaining and educating us all the way. <br /><br />We queued up to get into the big grassy field, grabbed audio guides and circled the circle. You can’t get very close (unless you pay extra for an after-hours tour) so you walk slowly around the fence perimeter while listening to a lot of archaeological information that basically amounts to this: These rocks are really, really old and no one knows what they were for. Granted, it’s pretty amazing that primitive folks could haul these multi-ton rocks to their present location, especially when modern humans tried to recreate the river journey with a rock of similar size and their raft promptly sank. Plus, they schlepped them over land for miles before standing them upright in a very specific orientation. So, I say kudos to the Neolithic people. <br /><br />Let’s face it though- rocks are rocks. I can’t say I was disappointed because my expectations weren’t too high. Stonehenge was exactly as I thought it would be and looked just like every photo I’ve ever seen of it. It’s just nothing much to write home about (except that I sort of just did). </div>Merley95http://www.blogger.com/profile/14593642789355194954noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5166187361717841384.post-39952927494434912342010-08-20T07:28:00.002+02:002010-08-20T08:10:00.952+02:00Icons of London<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidJUSjQ78i9b4VrGx79HbFFn-CH598u7xNcdzyB7zrqVXcVfSYEJMSu_lrAl7_E8hnVGz5k283pFAPISzIhwnySWDYizRn-3yXrZWpD0EcqcxSopI7Cy1iEbJCPG9JuQfGdnG8iRmkkuQ/s1600/IMG_4327.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507362971523658066" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidJUSjQ78i9b4VrGx79HbFFn-CH598u7xNcdzyB7zrqVXcVfSYEJMSu_lrAl7_E8hnVGz5k283pFAPISzIhwnySWDYizRn-3yXrZWpD0EcqcxSopI7Cy1iEbJCPG9JuQfGdnG8iRmkkuQ/s320/IMG_4327.JPG" /></a>Tower Bridge (<em>not</em> London Bridge, as I thought)</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXAP4_Bz9_2VKwcCLFfmqqF7S6biZI-9spyoZ9le-YDi0q_o4gOi_4F-6QPV-CuZjHgrE4PgMRpNass5z_x-lOqAfaSsbH3gk0a2D-uUW5wWQpLF4V8XmcVBDBSPjNqhSIgSy8Xisml7o/s1600/IMG_4262.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507362964750826130" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXAP4_Bz9_2VKwcCLFfmqqF7S6biZI-9spyoZ9le-YDi0q_o4gOi_4F-6QPV-CuZjHgrE4PgMRpNass5z_x-lOqAfaSsbH3gk0a2D-uUW5wWQpLF4V8XmcVBDBSPjNqhSIgSy8Xisml7o/s320/IMG_4262.JPG" /></a>Big Ben- one landmark that lives up to its name!<br />(though Big Ben is only the name of the bell inside the clock tower)<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd8sbgG2h4KYw1V7umbTqlQHXDl3S63-3DZyotUHPlo6Ifc2nIT_zqsZlrlmogeUA0lVtB7g4EAgvqlUa_DO4IrVdfhU0GLOECoZh37zeHkvVsz28IFqCa92TIjKeT7SEMu5JbmulIvIk/s1600/IMG_4256.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507362958968364530" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd8sbgG2h4KYw1V7umbTqlQHXDl3S63-3DZyotUHPlo6Ifc2nIT_zqsZlrlmogeUA0lVtB7g4EAgvqlUa_DO4IrVdfhU0GLOECoZh37zeHkvVsz28IFqCa92TIjKeT7SEMu5JbmulIvIk/s320/IMG_4256.JPG" /></a> This one did not go to </div><div>the Ministry of Magic- too bad!<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5-sUsT38O44N3JZXUALCzjJ6CiVs-vXjCuQjyugHhWx4iCeLOmAAG91qfZgU-X1mq5yJoon4fyJdXb8TQNYNfVReVWgYEgjIlHwkFrHFS_LwUXb1fesXD4NFIhFyyvyEY4ECGUFMbkzM/s1600/IMG_4245.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507362955843445218" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5-sUsT38O44N3JZXUALCzjJ6CiVs-vXjCuQjyugHhWx4iCeLOmAAG91qfZgU-X1mq5yJoon4fyJdXb8TQNYNfVReVWgYEgjIlHwkFrHFS_LwUXb1fesXD4NFIhFyyvyEY4ECGUFMbkzM/s320/IMG_4245.JPG" /></a> Buckingham Palace- big but not beautiful.</div><div>The flag was flying so we knew </div><div>Her Majesty was in residence. </div><div> </div><div align="left">How many books have I read that take place in London? In how many movies have I seen images of the city? And when I finally arrived there, it was just as I expected and even better. </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">We spent nearly three days hopping around the city- from Pimlico to Piccadily Circus, Westminster to West End, Soho to Southwark, Hyde Park to Holborn, Buckingham Palace to the Borough Market. We saw great landmarks, wandered in neighborhoods and sampled English ales in many dark, wood-paneled taverns including one that was a favorite of Charles Dickens. </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">I love being in cities that seem to equally embrace their history and their future. One of the most visited attractions is the Tower of London- a fortress, garrison, palace and prison that dates back nearly a thousand years- and it is right in the middle of the city, adjacent to the Wall Street-like business district. And there is not just one London. It seems that each neighborhood has its own unique flair and certainly a few days doesn't do justice to the many personalities of the city. I can't wait to go back... but there are just so many places to go! </div></div><br /></div>Merley95http://www.blogger.com/profile/14593642789355194954noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5166187361717841384.post-2302575877137997002010-08-11T08:33:00.002+02:002010-08-11T08:51:53.220+02:0030 Long Kilometers<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDYaSowWxpKXWEgNuYjL1p27z3rNN7Fpu668C-hBvEssYRf1I0soJrw5YjJ-NqrlTOU-jNWdm5bogxlSRGZYTm0tRP_SCFcX1cRThbC62dz6OfdP3W6W2Xs4GbZAsStlUccfImvX11Jtg/s1600/IMG_4486.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504037300933447538" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDYaSowWxpKXWEgNuYjL1p27z3rNN7Fpu668C-hBvEssYRf1I0soJrw5YjJ-NqrlTOU-jNWdm5bogxlSRGZYTm0tRP_SCFcX1cRThbC62dz6OfdP3W6W2Xs4GbZAsStlUccfImvX11Jtg/s320/IMG_4486.JPG" /></a><br /><div>As part of our marathon training, we decided to run a 30k (that's nearly 19 miles) race. There aren't many of that distance but we found one in Salisbury, England. It was the local firefighters' charity event. So off we went last week for our first visit to the UK. </div><div> </div><div>I didn't know that southwest England was so very hilly! This event was a trail run so it was literally <em>through</em> fields, forests and pastures- the cows were surprisingly calm as they watched me run through the herd, dogding pies and hoping they didn't stampede. </div><div> </div><div>It was beautifully scenic with all those rolling hills through the countryside. One minute I saw a quaint thatched cottage at the edge of the woods that looked straight out of a Grimm Brothers storybook. Ten minutes later I was running past a bonafide castle, looking for a troupe of Jane Austen characters to step out of the garden. </div><div> </div><div>This photo is after the race, which did eventually come to an end. We're standing in front of Salisbury Cathedral, which is really quite breathtaking behind the scaffolding. (When you ask a stranger to take a picture, you never know what you're going to get!) Anyway, the cathedral is 900 years old so I guess it's entitled to a face lift. Shortly after this, we were happily situated in a 18th century tavern replenishing fluids and calories with a celebratory ale and traditional English pub food. Aaah- life is good! </div>Merley95http://www.blogger.com/profile/14593642789355194954noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5166187361717841384.post-57313415004939652632010-08-02T12:58:00.002+02:002010-08-02T13:36:58.050+02:00Those crazy Dutchmen!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaZQy2hyphenhyphenHXzIEPABoY3wUWe6wdnNWvStnFVzQTmw_6OBruF_sgTXxM93U2NwJdKRaKb5of7FvcCAzT6Mgj7bxPacbimFgJZU_6FCVTgKAhq9wDHjhgwv_iIew0khdeh6AWusSo6M6SOag/s1600/IMG_4076.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500765968622274530" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaZQy2hyphenhyphenHXzIEPABoY3wUWe6wdnNWvStnFVzQTmw_6OBruF_sgTXxM93U2NwJdKRaKb5of7FvcCAzT6Mgj7bxPacbimFgJZU_6FCVTgKAhq9wDHjhgwv_iIew0khdeh6AWusSo6M6SOag/s200/IMG_4076.JPG" /></a><br /><div>For those of you who missed it, the soccer World Cup tournament ran from the second week of June through the second week of July. It happens only once every four years and is a VERY big deal in Europe. </div><div> </div><div>This year the United States was in the tournament and won their group in the first round of games. Germany also played well, losing in the semi-finals to Spain, but winning third place. We were in Berlin for both of their last games and the town was painted black, red and gold! TVs were set up outside at cafes and pubs all over and there were crowds around all of them.</div><div> </div><div>The Netherlands made it to the final game, which happened to take place the evening that Susan and I arrived in Amsterdam. We thought it would be fun to be there for the excitement. After we'd spent seven hours on 100-degree trains, packed in like sardines and dealt with two hours of delays, we were less enthusiastic about Dutch soccer. Due to the train delays, we got into the central station just one hour before game time and the city was in absolute chaos. Although the their flag is red, white and blue, the team color is orange in tribute to the royal family, whose last name is Oranje. So everyone and everything was citrus-colored and it was deafeningly loud with the South African vuvzela horns. </div><div> </div><div>We waited over an hour for a tram to get to our hotel. We were tired, we were hungry and thirsty and we were in no mood for frenzied celebration. After we checked into our B&B, we found a tiny Surinamese restaurant where we had a great dinner and watched the rest of the game with the family who owned the place. Sadly, the Netherlands lost to Spain and we were glad that we were no longer in the city center, where many fans did not take the loss well. In our neighborhood, a deathly hush fell over the crowds at the nearby pubs and restaurants. But the Dutch spirits were not down for long; when the team arrived home on Tuesday and made a parade through the city on the canals, the 200, 000+ fans once again turned the town orange and shut down the city's transportation system! Second place is not too shabby! </div>Merley95http://www.blogger.com/profile/14593642789355194954noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5166187361717841384.post-36653027207260079522010-07-26T16:57:00.003+02:002010-09-06T18:06:41.628+02:00Berlin Birthday<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8FvutuICcPPwlK_qla0IAvLQvuHB-mXNW1G8YVPj6TG5iYWlGNEafV8ZMzTWTOyIzOnjLpN-g2riRxxr6Q8rSViaGd3zyJ3Q2zE4iz6PHq4-OiCgNmYepAmriu_y5Y2FxV7TXX9vQkY8/s1600/2010+Jackie+bday+cake.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 150px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498230676092579426" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8FvutuICcPPwlK_qla0IAvLQvuHB-mXNW1G8YVPj6TG5iYWlGNEafV8ZMzTWTOyIzOnjLpN-g2riRxxr6Q8rSViaGd3zyJ3Q2zE4iz6PHq4-OiCgNmYepAmriu_y5Y2FxV7TXX9vQkY8/s200/2010+Jackie+bday+cake.JPG" /></a> This year it felt like I had a two-week celebration while on holiday with Susan so the actual day didn't stand out too much from the rest of the fun. <div></div><div>But it was a hot sunny day in Berlin and I started by taking a run along the river and through the park. I got to spend time talking with Adrienne, my friend who hosted us for a couple nights. Then Susan and I spent the whole day walking around and exploring the city. We saw landmarks and monuments and went to a museum. We had to have cake of course, and this is me at Fassbender & Rausch, apparently Europe's biggest chocolate store. We lingered over dinner and talked until the long summer day gave way to twilight around 10:30. Finally, to round out the day we ate ice cream sundaes before jumping on the train to go home. Definitely a good day! </div>Merley95http://www.blogger.com/profile/14593642789355194954noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5166187361717841384.post-10667498473717243432010-07-24T12:53:00.002+02:002010-07-24T13:00:45.834+02:00Training<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5yWCDGfVar2mZxHWn1Q9RBR_o2MndgPe1s4Eqr5tUwJsnLir77fkA1zzkNm41wXqTfK6arts9zjJkMkKCtdITo1w2tsasWUvigfn-vww3Sco-XYtlkUfQ5PH6QbMUOMrxVwaoTsgnNjI/s1600/IMG_4223.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497424724416127266" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5yWCDGfVar2mZxHWn1Q9RBR_o2MndgPe1s4Eqr5tUwJsnLir77fkA1zzkNm41wXqTfK6arts9zjJkMkKCtdITo1w2tsasWUvigfn-vww3Sco-XYtlkUfQ5PH6QbMUOMrxVwaoTsgnNjI/s320/IMG_4223.JPG" /></a><br /><div>This is my beautiful wife, right after she finished an 18 mile training run this morning. I know this life in Germany hasn't always been easy, but I am SO proud of her. Jackie has made the most of her time here. She cooks delicious and healthy meals, plans adventurous vacations, takes care of the household chores, teaches English at Atec and is training for the Berlin Marathon! Great job Jackie! I love you!</div>Merley95http://www.blogger.com/profile/14593642789355194954noreply@blogger.com4