Happy Annapolis Day

This Fourth was a particularly bittersweet one. We drove to Annapolis, a favorite day trip of ours. We strolled cobblestones, ate shrimp, sipped the new Flying Dog brew, cheered for Germany and Colombia, window shopped, and watched the Independence Day parade. It was lovely. 

See you in a few, America.

PS - Stay tuned for my next German favorite!

On Driving

I love to drive. Well, not in DC. Driving in DC makes me an angry, aggressive Crazy Lady. But growing up in Oklahoma, there was nothing like hitting the road, windows down, country music blaring, no traffic, and wide open plains all 'round. I love the combination of perceived freedom, speed, and being (sort of) outside. (Interested in the history of driving for pleasure? Read this fascinating article).

Germany is a driver's dream. We debated whether or not to use trains or rent a car while in Germany in 2012. I'm so glad we chose the car. We were able to go to so many out of the way places at our own pace. One of my favorite things to do was just explore...no destination, no idea where I was really going, no sense of direction. I'd get in the car and start driving. The area where we were staying (and where we'll live) is in the district of Kaiserslautern in the Rhineland-Palatinate, one of sixteen German states. It is a countryside of rolling hills, villages dating back to who-knows-when, and fields of rapeseed. 

I had no idea what rapeseed was until two years ago. Rapeseed is a source of vegetable oil and when it blossoms, it produces a bright, yellow flower. In the spring, rapeseed fields are everywhere in Germany, creating a brilliant patchwork quilt of color. 

The best thing about driving in the German countryside is the size of the roads. They. Are. Tiny. I mean, barely large enough for one car to drive on, much less two. Add to that the incredibly winding nature of the roads, the over-hill-and-dale undulation, and the sporadic nature of the villages (which sit right on the road), and you've got yourself an exhilarating ride. Mine was often the only car on the road, and as I would top a hill, I would see miles of deserted, narrow roads ahead of me. Ahhh. I would feel such a sense of Discovery as I rounded a corner and found myself in a small village containing a few farmhouses, perhaps a cobbled street, maybe a church. How long had it been there? What was it like to live there a thousand years ago? Had Charlemagne ever walked there? (Be forewarned: I like Charlemagne. He will be mentioned again on this blog).

Contrast Idyllic Meandering with the Autobahn. People don't so much meander as they Barrel Down. Imagine a jet-lagged couple fresh off their flight into Frankfurt. They pick up their Ford Focus (as they are clearly living The Big Life) from the rental agency and load their luggage. Destination programmed into their GPS, they pull out of the airport onto the autobahn and naively assume that they have time to accelerate from 30 mph to 60 mph. Then imagine irritated Germans glaring and swerving past, a backseat driver (who shall remain anonymous) loudly telling her husband to speed up (it's called yelling), said harried husband asking where he should go as the GPS malfunctions, and, eventually, the abrupt swerve into a non-parking spot in an unknown neighborhood as they attempt to Figure It Out. 

Or, picture me driving something like this down the A6. We disparagingly referred to it as "The Twig." Because we envisioned it snapping in half quite easily. I mean, it was such a sturdy thing that when you wanted to close the car door, you had to walk the door to the frame and push it shut. It was un-slammable. That happens when the door weighs as much as a piece of cardboard. I remember trying to pass on the autobahn in The Twig. I accelerated, moved to the passing lane, and waited for the car to...well...accelerate. I pushed on the pedal harder and realized that it was, indeed, already completely floored. The Twig was just chugging along at a death-inviting speed as the Audi's, BMW's, and Mercedes' (which were the ONLY other cars on the highway) rapidly approached in my rearview mirror. I quickly learned that The Twig and I should stay out of the left lane. 

I look forward to the time when I pick up friends and family in Frankfurt and, with ease and finesse, drive them to our humble abode. Until that time, have fun imagining me doing the opposite.

Anxiety vs. Anticipation

Happy Saturday! It has been a lazy morning here in the Daxon household. Coffee and eggs, smoked salmon, and chives. A fat, funny baby. Later, some Out and About Time. Tomorrow we'll worship, cheer the Netherlands on to victory, and say a final goodbye to Arthur. The weekend should be restfully busy.

Each day brings us closer to our departure and, honestly, I'm anxious. In an effort to quell the Knot in my stomach, I've decided to write a series of posts on the top five things I'm looking forward to in Germany (in no particular order).

"Beer turns thurst into a beautiful thing..."

-old German saying

1. Bier
When we first visited Germany in 2012, I was not a beer-lover. Six weeks later and I was ashamed of my previous self. Guys, there's beer and then there's beer. Don't hate, but a Bud shall never again touch my lips. As I'm sure you know, beer is everywhere in Germany. There are approximately 1,250 breweries in Germany producing about 5,000 brands of beer. The German brewery Weihenstephaner is the oldest in the world, dating back to 1040. That's 26 years before the Norman conquest, 452 years before Columbus sailed the ocean blue, and 736 years before the United States declared its independence. So, old. The atmosphere of beer culture is fantastic. A tall, cold one is best consumed in a biergarten. Imagine cobblestones, picnic tables, the best wurst you've ever had, polka music, and, you guessed it, beer. (For those of you who live in the DC area, there's a great biergarten on H street). It's communal, al fresco, and so relaxing. You know the classic stereotype of Germans? Beer-drinking, sausage-eating, pretzel-indulging? They're actually true. Personally, my favorite type of beer is the ubiquitous weissbier. There's nothing quite like sitting down to a tall, chilled glass of thick, golden goodness. Needless to say, I'm looking forward to the hoppy adventures ahead.

Up next...

On winding countryside drives, surviving the autobahn, and this thing called rapeseed.

Kickoff

The teams are singing their respective anthems. Fans wildly waving, yelling, gesticulating. Black, red, and gold against the good ole red, white, and blue. It's happening, folks. And I'm on the edge of my seat.

It is somehow very appropriate that I'm writing my first post while watching the USA-Germany match. It has been an interesting couple of weeks for us. We're in a holding pattern until we fly out on July 12th. Strange, this. To be in someone else's home, living out of suitcases, preparing for an international move. I'm realizing how important it is to take a step back from all the change. Last night, a favorite wine. Today, a cup of coffee, Julia Child's autobiography (did you know she lived in Germany?! I didn't!), some mental quietude, dinner with friends. Although the mental quietude is being disrupted with heart palpitations as I watch this game. Gah.

Growing up, Going on a Journey was part and parcel of my childhood imaginations. My brothers and sisters and I would pretend we were Lost Kids (it's just what it sounds like). We'd pack our 1960s-era suitcases, wear our best adventuring garments (imagine a hodge podge of makeshift prairie garb, Civil War musketry, and cowboy duds), and set off into the wilds of our backyard to face Harsh Winters and Imminent Peril.

Now that I'm embarking on a more permanent journey, I find the process a bit more anxiety-laden. I've gone on many adventures since a child...Europe, Africa, all over the US. I was always giddy during preparation and ready to leave again shortly after returning home. I've missed those sensations during this season. Granted, having a six-month-old probably has something to do with it. Moving far away from friends and family is scary. I'm older and value stability more than I did when I was twenty. Or twenty-five for that matter. But then Tuesday happened and I gave myself hope again. I was driving to Virginia on the George Washington Parkway. It's a beautiful drive. Tree-lined, winding, skirting the Potomac. As you reach Virginia, you drive right under the final approach pattern for Reagan National Airport. All of a sudden, I heard this roar and looked up to see the belly of a plane directly above me. It was so close. And all of a sudden, I was grinning. Full-faced, ear-to-ear and all that. And I thought, I've still got it - this is going to be great.

It's still nil-nil at minute fifty. The US team is looking good. And for my part, all I have to say is, Germany here we come.