After two days in Deblinhausen

My pride in my background has been strengthened tenfold. I am falling in love with this country, and can understand why my mother and grandmotherhave always cared for it so immensely...maybe I am biased, because my roots are so deeply embedded here, but nontheless-I was not prepared for the emotions that have shaken my core since being in this little town.

Let me start where I left off, taking straight from the pages of my journal; no pictures this time, but the writing will be long and detailed, as well as personal. Therefore, those of you that love to read will take joy in this, and those of you that were the sift-through-thepages-and-look-at-the-pictures kids...better luck next time. On the train from Berlin to Hanover, this is (some of) what I wrote:

Strange sensations are crashing over me in waves. Sleeping on the hard floor last night, trying to keep warm under the sleeping bag, I realized how alive I felt, being truly alone, leaving behind the comforts of home, almost everything and everyone I know....everything familiar forgotten as I venture into completely uncharted, new territories. New lands, new faces, new ideas, new smells and tastes. Although some of what is before me will be familiar- the pieces of Deblinghuasen I will remember will be experienced through new eyes, and will therefore be unprecedented.

New life, it fills every corner

New abilities to BE

To look inside myself....and each and every moment that passes leaves me more aware of how much I still have to learn about myself.

Sometimes I tend to look to others and pine for what they have accomplished, what traits/talents they possess...instead of embracing my own andd expanding my own personal pursuits and individual qualities/chracterisitcs...I still have a long way to go-and Im sure it will be a work in progress throughout my life, but Im so ready for change..for focusing on myself without being selfish, for working on my self growth and acceptance (evolution of soul) while alsostill remaining attentive to whats going on around me....how I can do things for others. I dont believe in a full force form of hedonism- but I know in order for me to become independent, more responsible, and the enlightened spirit/woman I hope to become, I need to really make the most of these weeks and take the time given to me for exploration and reflection,

and let every moment linger and seep into my body to remain and be carried with me always.

On board the train to Hanover, where Verena will pick us up, the images of Geman morning-country and woods flashing by instills a sense of peace in me that I cannot put into words, a desire is arising in me, so powerful it is almost violent. I am following my need to fall, chasing starlight and the magnetism of the planet rhythms; this ship is taking me far away, from the memories, from the people who care if I live or die.

Black holes and revelations are everwhere,

hopes and expectations- clinging and yet fleeing with the wind.

It is electrifying my life.

There are some ways I feel very connected to Kellen, although we have had many tense moments of differences. I see her face reflecting back to her a smaller, distorted version of herself in her camcorder viewing window as she films the world rushing by us and know that is is not just me experiencing these feelings. She gets irritated with me sometimes, when I ask questions- and I dont blame her; I understand that maybe its frustrating...but Im so new to this- the having to depend ONLY on yourself, esp. in foreign territories...and sometimes I feel so helpless, like a little girl. Yet, while she can lose patience (who could blame her? we all do, anyway) we have our moments where the evidence of a bond emerges, like on the small plane, when we hit the worst turbulence and I held onto her for dear life, and she kept me calm and talked me through it, completely patient...

or just a few minutes ago, when she suddenly and sporadically hugged me after the train conductor punched holes in both our rail passes. Both sets of our eyes- her crystal blue pair, and my own dark honey set, switch between the pages of our journals and the window, where our pupils take everything is, shifting rapidly, dancing, open and full. She is truly an inspiration.

A few details of Berlin I forgot to write of yesterday: I have never been a fan of history as they teach it in school, but the history that abounds in Berlin, on every street, in the structures and the people, in the air you breathe....the kind of history you live and experience in person, thats a different story. Being in the Berliner Dom was almost too overwhelming at first...there was haunting memories, although not my own, imprinted in the lavish gold embellishments, the huge, beautiful pain-stakingly detailed dome ceiling, altars, and organs----but even more so in the "underground" of the Dom we explored. We followed the steps until they turned into old, cracking, brick and stone, and years of existence becomes etched in every corner....and further still, when they became black iron and metal, almost too narrow and steep to climb, and there is too much to take in at once. We purposely got lost in the dusty, glowing hallways with old windows looking out onto the roof of the cathedral- falling back through time, both of us mostly quiet and reverent in our discovering.

I am realizing more and more as time passes that I dont push myself enough, and how much I want to change that.

I am also gettng a better idea and sense of how utterly vast the world really is. The mysterious depth of the forests we're passing through is both ominous/cold/indifferent/intimidating and alluring, calling to me. Maybe the allure makes sense, considering how drawn I am to the story of Chris McCandless (Into the Wild) the boy who ceased communicating with his family, gave away his savings of $24,000, and began traveling into the wilnerness in Alaska, abandoning his car and burning all the money in his wallet. I have often wondered what it would be like to allow the wilderness to swallow me up and take me into itself, as I simultaneously take it into myself, and become one with it.

I want to find more than one place to spread Nana's ashes on...her essence is interwoven in and throughout everything I see- although it is strongest out here in the country, where she lived and loved. It is so hard to be here, and yet it feels so right, and I know both of these emotions will only grow when I arrive at Verena's. I am so glad that I am able to do this for her- I know how much more she will be at peace after some of her remains find the grounds,

lands,

winds

of her home and take root where they belong. I know that the moment those ashes touch my hands,

leave them,

and then are scattered into Germany's hands, my connection to and bond with my Nana will be complete, and she can rest at peace within me and within each and every molecule, breath...

in bones, memory, time, and eternity.

I have no words for what I am experiencing and feeling.

I am so full right now.

(Not of food)

The old, dilapidated German towns, the cottages, the wood piles, the hanging mist decorating the green fields, the other passing trains- they all bring tears to my eyes and work their way into my blood.

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Zo...this day and nacht have been wondabau!

Everything that my memories have sustained is exactly as I remember...

by far, the most overwhelming thing has been the smells.

I never truly realiyed the full power of them until today. As soon as we pulled in the cobblestone driveway, nostalgia was drowning me thickly. Deblinghausen is so cozy, familiar, and beautiful...and all the secents I experienced as a child invaded my senses and nearly brought me to my knees. The house itself has a very particular smell to it....and each room has its own individual aura and accompanying scent- the bathrooms, the upstairs living room and bedrooms, the bed in the room we are staying in (the bedroom and bed smell the EXACT same), the backyard, the kitchen, the pantry, the badedas...its almost too much. Memories I have not recalled for years surfaced in my mind like treasures lost at sea, suddenly freed from the depths to float towards the light. I remembered the delicious breakfast bread, coated in cinnamon and sugar, that I loved as a little girl..I would sneak into the pantry to snack on it, listening to music with Taryn in Stephan's room, reading the only English book I could find (about an Alaskan husky sled-dog, and his relationship with his owner until his death) on the balcony, and crying when I learned of the dogs fate, trying to run his owner to vicotry during a race (his heart exploded- and sometimes I am so overcome with joy that I can relate). I remembered taking baths in the large brown bathtub in the upstairs bathroom, and showers in the downstairs bathroom, with its eerie green decor....trying to decide between the various Duschdas, and making imaginary scenarios for my imaginary friends, I remembered playing with Taryn on the zipline in the schoolyard playground, trying to communicate with the German kids, I remember sitting in the den upstairs, sipping yellow Brause´, curlers in my hair, climbing those beloved green stairs countless times, the cherry trees in the backyard. the undescribable forests and trees I have dreamed of and longed for- they are just as I remembered, majestic....more so in this area than the ones I saw on the train, en route, I remembered playing in the attic, finding board games, the blue bathroom by Oma's room, where she had a special machine that lowered her into the bathtub so she could take baths- the tiles were so familiar, I could almost feel their cold contours beneath my fingertips, the details of their dark cerulean and white patterns welcoming to my pupils, as if they felt at home, yet also felt the same discomfort as I felt as a child, thinking of my great grandmother's weathered body struggling in and out of the water.

I remember the parasailers we saw at the outdoor pool, eating at a German cafe and being utterly excited about my My Little Pny stickers, licorice and Kinderchoclata, the indoor waterpark, the theme park with its bendy bicycles and tightropes and strange V cart rollercoater, digging in my cousin`s ´many black zippered pockets for the plastic toy water gun- only to realize I had found the wrong pocket (get yer mind out of the gutter!).

I could go on for hours, pulling all the memories from my core, as I walk from room to room- but at a certain point, I begin to feel weak...for the gem of my childhood manifests such euphoria in me, it nearly makes my soul tired, drained of energy because it longs so much to relive those days. The smell of the laundry, the taste of the tomatoes, the German desserts...almost magical.

I cant believe it has been 10 years.

I have grown so much, and yet not at all (it feels more right to be here than it ever did before)...

and after being here only a short while, I am already beginning to think in German at times, even when I dont know what my ownthoughts mean, as if I was meant to speak and understand German (and I think I was).

note to self: learn German

People are so welcoming here, and friendly- everyone is family to everyone, and neighbors are so involved in each others lives....honoring traditions together, and doing things for one another...it is so mind boggling and eye opening. The traditions that they have here that Verena describes to us makes me long to be a part of such alovely, close knit community....I dont even know my neighbors' names, let alone make wreaths of gold flowers and, along with half the town, throw parties/barbeques for their 25th wedding anniversaries.

There are so many tradtions I list in my journal that I learned about- but for the sake of not boring you guys TOO much, Ill skip over them. However, just know there is an abundance, esp. related to getting and being married, between friends, families, and lovers; things they must do pre-marriage, in order to be able to move on to the next step or phase in their lives. To some, it may seem strange or excessive....but I dont look at it that way. To me, it is obvious that people in Germany dont necessarily feel obligated to do them- they enjoy and take pride in upholding these traditions, in being so involved in each other's lives and actively taking part in being a strong community and family....one great, big family. They truly savor life, and one another, and their country here. Of course, there are always exceptions- but overall, I have noticed how much less they abuse nature, their food, their relationships...and yes, perhaps I am speaking from bias again, but just watching the interaction between Germans, and reveling in the beauty of the countryside (German countryside is different from what Americans consider sountryside) has taught me and shown me things I was much too young to pick up on when I was a little girl- although the feeling of being at home remains the same. Everyone you meet, or happen upon, takes the time to say "Guten tag" or hello....there is laughter and enjoyment everwhere, yet not the same way there is laughter and enjoyment in a drunken weekend in Texas, or a spring break vacation. You can have a fantastic time having a few drinks after dinner without waking up the next morning trying to recall what you did in the hours before you fell asleep. Now, dont get me wrong- the rumors that the Germans know how to drink is very true....however, regardless of the drinks shared, no drama was had, feelings hurt, no bad decisions were made as a result of the warming liquid swimming in ones blood....we just sat around the canary yellow tablecloth and embraced the good company.

We shared an amazing dinner of chicken, stuffed mushrooms, potato salad, tomato salad, cucumber/vegetable/feta salad, etc.

We sampled German beer, and two liquors: one that was clear and tasted of licorice, complete with flakes of glitter; one that was sweet, dark, and rich...yet surprisingly light. Toasts and celebrations were had, "Proust"s ringing out around the table as glasses clinked and light hearted teasing, sincere laughter, and general good times were shared between people of very different backgrounds and contrasting yet surprisingly similar cultures.

Verena's food was as good as I have always remembered. It felt good to be able to fully enjoy food without restricting myself....although there are twinges of guilt, considering I am coming home to swimsuit season (but I am more concerned with giving my body a bit of a break and treating my soul and mind right.)

Although I dont understand much German, I was never uncomfortable hearing others converse in it, nor did I ever feel out of place or left out, sitting amogst everyone, observing their tones and gestures...I began to feel what they were saying, and feel as though I understood it. Kellen contested to this as well. We were both at ease, and I did not once feel lost; I followed conversations as if the words being spoken were translated to me in an intuitive, instinctual, internal ("i") mind-machine.

It was nice to see Basti again- and experice the contradictory aspects of time, memory, and aging. He looks so much older than I imagined, and yet, I think I was expecting him to be the same Basti whose lap I sat on, in the bench in the backyard while he smoked a cigarette.My memories of him have not changed as the years have passed and he has aged- I saw it in the lines on his face....he was very obviously close to 30. However, his laugh was close to the same, maybe a few octaves deeper....very pleasing, I have always been drawn to voices, something me and Katy have in common. Stephan has been sick, so I have not been able to see him. Their girlfriends are great- Zimona is funny, and expressive...which makes understanding her much easier, and makes me feel as though I can relate to her more. She is very sharp and knows a little English, Nadine is very sarcastic, which I like. Perhaps these details are unimportant, but I am so intriqued by others, esp. those from other countries. Both similarities and differences overflow- between their culture and ours.

It was delightful calling home- the way I blabbered on while soaking in the bathtub showed me my true joy at being here- it made my heart smile and ache at the same time. Jaron and I didnt speak long, he was working...but he sounded sincerely happy to hear my pleasure, which meant more to me than I could express.

My fierce passion for life is sprouting all over, inside of me...little blossoms of love on an already flourishing tree (whose progressive growth will never be complete, always evolving, branching out throughout time's flowing waters.)

I slept better than I have for weeks, enveloped in one of the most inviting, soft, comfortable and familiar beds I have slept or rested in....content, clam, weary from the abundance of nostalgia, satisfaction, learning... taking-in of the world, this new-old world (the sights I experienced as a child, seen through new eyes- older, yet younger than ever before- open, curious, ready and willing to learn and see...aware, and yet finding mystery everywhere they look.)

I cannot possibly describe the scent of this bed, nor the velvet smooth softness of it...it is nuturing, like a (German) grandmother's warm, downy arms- erasing and embracing your troubles away.

random note: the cheese here is amazing. Gouda- mmmmmm.

also: I just now realiyed I have always called my uncle "Rhiner", although his name is actually Reinhardt. It took me almost 21 years to get it right, and yet I still want to call him Rhiner, even in my head.

He still has the same amused smile and kind eyes....and has gotten less intimidating as time passes.

17th of May, 2008

We slept in this morning... I äm telling you, that bed is absolutely killer. Plus, the blinds were shut tightly in our room, keeping out the light of the day...although it is a particularly gray and drizzly day (as Verena would say, "scheisse waether"). Plus, I think our jet lag and sore muscles are catching up with us. It has been a couple of days since sleeping in an actual bed, let alone a bed fallen straight from heaven.

When we finally did "rouse", it was too a long, loud and lingering siren outside in the distance. I was instantly nervous, and I guess Kellenw as thinking the same thing, because the first thing she said, still half asleep, was "Where I come from, that means theres a tornado."

We both got up to check it out, peaking out the window...relieved to find nothing, only the information that is was only a train (amongst laughter from my family upon our questioning the noise.)

I think today was the first time I had a doughnut in years.

I'm not kidding.

Yes...it was delicious. Jelly filled and all.

Kellen and I went on a bike ride on my aunt and uncles bikes....they had to lower the seats for us, we couldn't even get on them without making a jump for it. It was halfheartedly raining, but we ignored it and rode through the cool, misty German streets (picture: red stone roads; red, green, and brown traditional- and beautiful- German houses; wind farms in the distance, quaint little schoolhouses and shops, fields and gorgeous pine-ish trees, and so on). We happened across the same playground I adored and frequented as a child...I cant explain how completely thrilled I was. It was just as I remembered it as well...if not more appealing to my eyes, like exceptional wine that has improved with age, and the addition of years. Kellen took pictures (my camera battery was left at home, I promise to get some tomorrow) and I found a small, lost piece of my youthful soul on the wet zipline; cold, wet air blasting my face left me feeling splendidly alive. This feeling only built as we road the bikes some more, laughing as we dropped cameras and braked too hard, trying to get used to-but loving- the foreign bikes.

While riding them, I had the first moment of longing to stay here...not forever, but for awhile, to call it home for a chapter of my life. However, I have people I want to come back to, and I would miss Austin very quickly.

We came back home to dry out, and then headed with my aunt to see my cousin at the fire station, where the fire brigade was having a sort of competition, or mini Olympic ordeal... "Vetcomfe." (sp?)

It was fun to watch the men, women and children (in training, girls included) in bright orange, either standing in circles talking with one another, or competing- fire hoses blasting.

Kellen and I, once non red meat eaters, had traditional German Brautwurst- complete with fires soaked in ketchup and mayo (soooo nutricious, I can feel my skin glowing..with grease). I did it for my Nana (she loved it)...but actually realized it was enjoyable,and maaayyybbe a little tasty.

Yes, Kellen got footage of it...so Jaron can laugh with joy to see his girlfriend actually eating red meat.

Afterwards, Verena took us shopping...which was so nice of her: Kellen got a light jacket, which she needed (she didnt believe it would be so cold) and another pair of pants (she brought only one, versus my two...although her back was thanking her for her sacrifices) and I got two new pairs of shoes...as if I needed them (for my birthday.)

Lunch was truly delicious- Verena took us to a tiny Italian restaurant tucked into a corner of a nearby town. The man who owned it was a true Italian man (big, festive belly, dark shin and hair and half moustache, deep thooated, scratchy voice and laugh, eloquent speech and gestures, very welcoming) who also speaks German (ok, no brainer- he does live in Germany, idiot) and made us feel like we were guests in his kitchen at home...which, technically, we were- the tiny restaraunt was so cozy and inviting, like a home (not a house, a home.) We spoke and leanred Italian, German, and English together, and laughed with another neighbor that joined....and the food and accompanying wine were delicious. Benissimo!!

Verena drove us around afterwards, showing us the beautiful woods on the back country of the town...where she will take us tomorrow for pictures, if the weather is better. The trees, once again...I have no words for them.

She showed us the "moor" ("moore", or "more" .... i don't know how it is spelled) which is kind of like areas in fields of dark, blackish dirt that is actually quicksand (and apparently eats the cows)....it looks normal upon first glance, because it has grass and such growing on it...I suppose it is sort of like a swamp. She also showed us the areas of the country that have fire damage, where within the woods there is miles of a black dirt like substance, that she described as "not real dirt". We didn't understand at first, so she stopped the car at this massive, vast field....it was a dark wasteland of things forest fires have burned over time- sort of like a mulch, or ash, that looks just like dirt on the outside and gets wet by the rain, but underneath, when you sift your fingers through it, it is weirdly dry. Although I describe it as a wasteland, it is not truly so- it was still full of growing life, real plants and bushes spoted here and there throughout the rows of blackness. It is hard to describe...but I took pictures, so I will post them later. We walked in it, jumped in it, scrutinized it...and I felt a sensation of being extremely small, and insignificant- just a tiny smudge on the big picture. My own mortality blazed a hole through my mind, and when I began shivering, it wasn't just from the cold.

Verena truly took the time to help us experience many sides and parts of this town, of something so much immense than just ourselves.

When we got home, I was warmed by a hot chocolate with the German form of Bailey`s....which I like a little more than its American counterpart.

If you have never thought to mix peas with onions, garlic, jalapenos, and pepper, than put them on toast, you should do it.

Bacardi?

(says Rhiner. no, not Reinhardt.)

I am saying good nacht for now. The paradise bed is calling me to the sweet depths of un-consciousness.

Please forgive spelling slip ups, it's late and the z and y are switched on the German keyboard, among other differences. As the Mortal Kombat corner man would say, whooopssyyyyyy!