A Tale of Two Wengens

I took one last walk in Wengen today.

It was so different. Yesterday's walk was full of despair and stress. A decision to end my trip strangled my soul.

Today, with everything taken care of, the plane ticket booked, I was at peace. I walked and listened to peaceful tunes. Went to my favorite spots.

I sat on the hill next to the train station overlooking the valley.


Finally I could have my 'last night in Europe' and reflect from which I have come.


Waterfalls in the distance. I never saw then before.

A young girl waving a Swiss flag.

I strolled through the street happier than I've been in a while. Even in Europe. I am ready to come home.

I am ready to show my pictures.


I look forward to normalcy. To not worrying about booking a hostel or researching locales or locking up my belongings.


To videogames!

To my friends and family.


I walk past the tightrope and remember my promise to try it.

I look around, feeling rather silly. It's two feet high, meant for kids. But it looks mad fun.

It's six o'clock. Not many people around. I approach it and pretend to watch the nearby tennis match. A ball hits the net and bounces. There are eleven balls on the ground. Lazy ballboy syndrome?

"You must be so self-confident after this trip," my dad's words echo in my mind. Haha. Right.

I toss my foolish-looking fears aside (actually I don't, I just do it anyway) and step onto the tightrope.

A woman passes. Couples walking on the street. I don't look at them, I look at my wobbling foot. This thing is two or three inches wide, but my balance is non-existant. It's Amsterdam biking all over again.

The trial never ends? Haha.

I must look like an idiot but I stand there with one foot on the rope. I gotta try it once, I say.

So after ten seconds of dorkiness I put my other foot on it, but I'm giving way. I slant my left foot then my right one but no good. I'm losing balance. To prevent the fall I step off.

Maybe I should grow a tail?


A tennis ball hits the net.

I try again. One foot. Then two. I wiggle and bend and I'm losing my balance and I step off.

This is fun. Even if I look dorky..


My third try I run across. 'Sprint to beat gravity!' it actually works for three steps then gravity wins.

Haha. I'm done. That was fun.


I walk.
I treat myself to a nice restaurant. Eiger is it's name, with a nice view of the mountains.

I order 'Corn-fed chicken and Mediterranean vegetables and potatoes.'

I eat there outside. Train arrives. People get off. Tourists, families, friends, people with bikes.

A woman looks lost and just gazes down a street, wondering which direction her hotel is in.

That was me when I first arrived, I think.

Then they disperse. No one left. A quiet spectacular view of the mountains. And my meal.

"This is the best meal I've had in Wengen," I tell the waitress.

"I'm glad you like it, I will let the chef know," she says.

"I think I must have the chocolate cake," says I.

She smiles. "Coming right up!"


She delivers. I conquer it.
Before and after. You know the drill.

Before

After


"Delicious. You know, for all intents and purposes, this is my last night in Europe." (tomorrow in Frankfurt is just a filler).

"Oh? Where have you been?"

I tell her.
"That's a nice tour of Europe. You know I lived in New York for seven years."

"Oh?" I say. "Very different from Wengen."

She laughs, "Yes. Great for when you're young. I lived here in Wengen for five years."

"And working in front of a great view, not bad." I claim.

"I never tire of it," she responds.



I sign the bill.

"Thank you. I decided I needed a delicious way to end my trip, and you delivered!"

She smiles,"I'm glad we could be a good last memory."


"And a perfect view," I add.

"If it was a clear night it would be perfect." she says, motioning to the clouds. "have you seen the pink peak while here?"

"No." I exclaim. "Pink?"

"That smooth peak, when there are no clouds and the sun is setting, turns a magnificent pink. There are postcards you look at and say, 'That must be altered, no way it's that color,' but it is." she explains.

"I'll have to cone back here," I joke. (Or am I joking?)

She laughs. We say goodbye and I gaze at the view one last time.


The sun is setting. Golden light shines on Wengen, beautifying the town.
My newfound cheerfulness for the first time turns a bit gloomy as I walk down the stairs to my hotel. Maybe it's the song on my iPod..


The curved steps wind past pretty houses and for the first time I realize how much I'll miss Europe.

I stand there and take a few photos with my iPod. I imagine being home in a few days, normal life. Wishing for a challenge. Wanting the excitement of booking a new hostel. Of seeing castles. Of meeting new people with nice accents. Of missing them. (missing the feeling of missing people, whoa slow down Paul this is getting too deep even for me, haha).

I walked past my hotel and saw the mountains, the clouds flowing over and through them.

"Goodbye Wengen." I say.

"Goodbye Switzerland." I say.

"Goodbye Europe." I say.


I walk back past children playing.

In the evening I head to the lounge where I am writing this now. Catching up to the present, are we?


Martin the hotel owner gave me three nights free in exchange for hotel photos. My first photo job? Maybe there's a beginning of something here.


Just a few minutes ago, Sophia comes in and says goodnight in an Italian accent.

I hug her. "Enjoy Ireland," I say. "See the castles I didn't, and send me photos," she laughs. She's going to the Emerald Isle with her friends in August for one month. Like me.


The cycle continues.

For some reason that makes me happy.

Fog

A mist enveloped Wengen the other night. It was eerie.

Self Confidence..

My dad said, "When you come back your self confidence must be so high that you can do anything."

He's not the first to say that.

"Haha no I've got a long way to go."

This trip is possibly the best thing I've done. It's also the worst.

I've been scared, stressed, amnoyed, freaking full of despair on this trip.


He gave me a look, which over the phone sounds like a pause.

I continue, "If anything this trip opens my eyes to how I think. This is the beginning of my self-confidence, not the end."


I hoped to change. I now know no single trip changes you as much as you want. I have a lot to do on inproving me. So let's get to work. The adventure continues..


Whether I'm in Athens or Maryland, the one person I always travel with is me.

I am looking forward to...

watching M*A*S*H
playing SSX3
hanging wit my friends
watching the Redskins (we're actually improving gradually through the draft, who woulda thunk it?!)

Chipotle
Late nights
Sleeping in
floor hockey!

creating a video game
Editing all my pictures!

wow. I'm a dork..

I've come to journey's end...

I've come to journey's end...

I'm coming home early, folks.


I debated it with a passion. Freaking nearly lost it due to the stress, but weighing the pros and cons and listening to two halves of my gut, I made an executive decision.

Nothing with me is simple, hmm? :)

The main reason is health-wise I've been feeling kinda sick and want to get checked out. My first responsibility is to my health. It might be something simple but I've felt this way for two months and I want to make sure. I was concerned enough to end my trip early, but also..

That, and all the little pieces to plan Greece were becoming overwhelming. The stress was too much.


I was frightened and frustrated and feeling...despair? Yes.

Looking at plane ticket in my shopping cart on my iPod, I stared. Quiet. Empty.

The future rests in my hands.
How do I explain my trip to people?

"Three and a half months and ends in Switzerland" or
"Four months and ends in Greece"?

I think of the Acropolis, how much I wanted to take photos.

"Not in this state, I won't enjoy it. I'll be worried something serious is wrong with me."

I had Greece on my list #1 even. Thought about it for months. To change something with that much built-up expectation I need to take it in. To get comfortable with the idea.

So I take a walk in Wengen.

A sort of self-imposed peer pressure took hold.
"I told everyone I'm finishing this trip."


I put the question to the universe.
"What should I do?"

I look for a sign.
Gray clouds loom over Wengen.

I lay on a bench and look at the valley below.


I let thoughts flow.

Going to Greece: fifteen logistical pieces to work out.
Going home early: three pieces

Sometimes simplicity wins, and this might be one of those times.


"But you have to finish everything!" my heart counters.

"Now it's just like the 1988 Cincinatti Bengals. 'Finish Everything' was their mantra. And they didn't finish everything. They have a 'loser's ring' and now I'm doing the same thing.. Did I listen to that documentary so many times fate drilled it into me to leave before Greece? To get to the Superbowl and lose?

Is there not much difference between winning and losing?

My heart countered.
Some people never get to experience Europe. Enjoy the dream you've made true.


I thought.

I almost didn't come to Switzerland.
But I came. And I'm glad I did.


I hate spending money on tickets but it'll cost almost the same to leave now or go to Greece.

I started realizing I didn't need to see Heidelberg or Zwindinberg. I've seen castles in Ireland, and a small German town already.

I think of Ireland. How I wouldn't trade that for a day or a week or a month at Athens. My trip is already special. My grip is part of expectation. My own creation.

If I can let go of something I expected, and take charge to look after my health, I am growing.

I am finishing everything, just a different everything that I imagined.


As I walked I became more comfortable with the idea.

I started feeling like I did finish everything.

Maybe I can in life too. I won't always finish everything. My dreams sometimes feel like they're slipping away. That I'll never get X or Y.

But I can feel like I do. Almost like tricking yourself, but not really. Just re-arranging your expectations. And that 'is' finishing everything.


I come back and book the plane ticket. I spot Sophia in the lounge and chat with her. She draws characters. She loves manga. It's popular here too.

I buy a train ticket. I make an appointment with my doctor. Taking action solves stress like nothing else.


'July 13th?' the 'unlucky' syndrome persists. It bothers me. But then I push my compulsion for even numbers and my 'perfectly four-month' trip aside and say I'm better than that.

Maybe there's a reason for this.


Getting over my compulsion
is
Finishing everything.

(now to wash my hands)

Meeting a Dork in Hamburg, Part Three

The next day I wake up and Julia's in the kitchen, eating.

"Bread and cheese?" she offers.

"What else would it be?" I reply, haha.


Something strikes me about this breakfast. Bread. Cheese.

If I were home I'd have a choice of five cereals, four tv dinners, and chips, peanuts, and goldfish crackers to satisfy my 'crunch' to compliment my meal. I'm so spoiled. But not spoiled...wanting to fill a spectrum of taste to saturation.

I'm so complex. So compulsive. 

"You eat this every day?" I ask her.

"Every day."

I would get tired of it after a few days, haha.


Julia's life is simple. She works part-time a few days a week and the rest of the week she has free.

I look at the plants in the kitchen and her painting.

The simplicity of life surrounds me, envelops me. It is refreshing.


"Work is done," is her philosophy. "Everything's already done."


That idea counters my "Finish Eveything" attitude. A war against compulsion? It's nice to see this possibility of life, even if it might be incompatible with my personality.


At home the fast-paced "figure everything out in your life now or it's too late" attitude dominates. It even tries to follows me to Europe.

But here, seeing a piece of Julia's life makes me see me more clearly.


I begin to separate the parts of me that I like and don't like. But what do you do when they're on both sides of the spectrum?

(I like the human condition so much that I should write stories...but that's for another day).


We have a plan for today.
"So are you ready for canoeing?" she asks.

"Always am!" I respond.


We stroll through a park toward the Hamburg waters. We come across a small boat place. Friendly fellow runs it. His cheery belly protrudes out, and his smile welcomes even a stranger from America.

Looking at the sky, gray clouds loom over us.

"Should we wait fifteen minutes in case it rains?" we ponder.

Julia hands over the money, half mine and half hers. "We're adventurous," she declares.


"There are countless bridges to take shelter under," he says.

Sweet. It's like Amsterdam, but from the water! Haha like every city where I regret not doing something, I get a chance in the next city. I like an opportunistic life, I wish it felt that way back home..

Friendly guy enters mother mode.
"Do you need to use the restroom?"
Haha two or three hours on the water.. Thanks, we're good.


Canoe.
I sit in front, Julia in the back. I power, she steers. We both row.

She looks at her map. "There's a nice lake here, oh and several small waterways there." We ponder the possibilities. "Let's turn links," which is left in German.

I row and row and row and our vessel gradually makes a turn as we come dangerously close to the rocky shore.

"No wait!" she exclaims like a dork, " turning the map around, "turn recht!"

I flip my oar/paddle/whatever to the other side and swivel our boat to the starboard. Ship language is universal, right? The boat torques with the force of a space shuttle.

I hear a German shriek.

"What?" I ask.

She laughs. "I dropped the map."

I scan the waters behind us. No sign of floating directions.

"It's okay, I got it all up here." she points to her head.


"Great," I say sarcastically. But I'm laughing. The simple life, huh? Let's try it your way.


We venture forth into Hamburg's small waterways. They greet us with the giddiness of a labyrinth.

Gray clouds discourage most people, so we're the only ones on the water. It's peaceful. The sounds of oar strokes fill the idle air, we pass waterside houses with places for a boat to dock, their yards with stone paths and lush grass spark my imagination of a wonderful life.


We find a lake and venture into the center of it. The boat sits and drifts in the current. Lunchtime.

Julia pulls out a fruit-filled crepe she bought at the bakery. I pull out my mini croissant, feeling that I should have bought more. Cheap Paul persists, haha. I take mini bites so I can 'have' my croissant and eat it too, haha.


I realize I'm sitting facing forward, not toward Julia so it feels awkward. We can't really talk like this.

"Hold on," I say.

I stand up and the boat rocks.

"Careful," she laughs. "Don't kill us."

Dorks are known to do stupid things.


But whatever, I sit and now we can talk, haha.


The boat drifts to the statues, which have inscriptions. She translates them.


We're done with food and we row, row, row our boat gently down the Hamburg waterway.


We pass a dock with little boats. The building just up the walk says, "Ice Cream."

I ponder how often I'll be in Hamburg on a boat with a dorky German who lost our map, and my mind screams, "Let's get ice cream." Did I say that out loud?

"Alright! You park the boat, I'll get it," she commands.

"Chocolate, bitte," I say, haha.

I hold the boat steady by grabbing the dock ask she disembarks. I consider shaking the boat to make her fall, but then she might not get me ice cream haha.


I'm sitting there on the canoe and all is right with the world. But what if the NASDAQ stocks fall, Paul?


Julia yells from her position, "With or without peanuts?"

"With!" I yell back. Usually I take three minutes with that decision.


She walks back with two cones and I take mine.

"Danka," I say.


She gets in and I push out boat away with my oar. We drift and the ice cream flavor magnifies my feeling of peace. That's before the sugar high, haha.


Suddenly our boat drifts toward the docked kayaks. Frantically I reach for my oar and one-handedly row to try and turn. I see the kayaks are so close we can touch them. The current is strong.

Our boat collides gingerly.
Screech! Bump. 

How dorky.


I hand Julia my ice cream and two-handedly paddle back to the dock.

Julia embeds her oar in one of the wooden plank cracks to anchor us, after almost dropping her ice cream, so we're even in the dork score today, haha.


We finish our 'creme and paddle off back home. We pass a young boy doing body surfing.

Hello, Hamburgeon.


As we return to the boat place I know this is one of my top five memories of this trip.

That night Julia has guests over for a practice 'jam' session. She's gonna play with two flutists in an outdoor music festival.

I lay there in my 'bedroom' aka music room haha and observe. German lyrics. I close my eyes. The evening passes in peace.


As the final lyrics propagate, I get ready for tomorrow. A new day. A new hostel. New adventures.

And I come to the conclusion that
couchsurfing in Germany ain't bad. A free place to stay for a night...but it's the personal stories and perspectives make it worth it.

I met a dork in Hamburg. That's an adventure, haha.

Meeting a Dork in Hamburg, Part Two

Meeting a Dork in Hamburg, Part Two

A walk.

We exit her place and come full-stride to a park. I spot a bridge and walk to the edge, subtly encouraging her to do the same. We lean on the railing and look out to the waters of Germany.


Didn't Anne Frank say it's easier to talk about deep things when gazing upon some outward scene?


Well she's right, but I didn't talk about anything deep (even though I'm thinking it). Instead we spot fishes below and make some silly remark.


Time passes. Somewhat slowly at first then faster. We motion to go. She's gotta make a stop at the grocery store.

"I'm cooking for you," she says.

She gets points. All couchsurfing hosts are more accomodating than your mother's mother, so by now I'm not surprised. But very grateful. I offer up help but perhaps I let out that I tend to overcook (and evaporate) things because she orders me to stay put in my chair. Haha, do not disobey a German command! It's verboten..

"I don't usually cook," she admits. "So consider yourself lucky. Or unlucky..depending on how it turns out."

She peels potatoes and tosses 'em in the pan. Then onions. And...tomatoes. Mini yellow ones..

At this particular time people are dying in Hamburg and the news tells everyone to not eat tomatoes.

Sweating Ecoli-fearing bullets, I tremble tenaciously as I ask, "Should we wash those?"

"They're being cooked so it's all right. And the latest word is that it's sprouts causing the problems."

"Oh.." I say, while subconsciously counting the seconds that the tomatoes are in the pan. I can't help it. Bah, humbug!


Hamburg?

Whatever.

She is elegant in her cutting. The cozy atmosphere feels right. Her German accent is exciting. The smells of frying fill the air. Suddenly the fear washes away just a bit and the ambience of 'now' overtakes me. (I can eat tomatoes, I tell myself.)


It's done.
It smells wonderful.

Wasting no time, I dig in to a finely-textured potato. The little bit of oil fleshes out the veggie taste.

"You," I say, "get points."


"All I do is keep getting them. In any game you lose them too," she smiles.

"The night ain't over yet," I reply. Haha.


Among the veggies on my plate are five tomatoes. As I eat a forkful of the other stuff, my mind begins a dialog with itself.

"Go ahead," it says. "You're in Germany eating a meal prepared by a cool girl. Eat them. You only live once."

"Uh huh. Especially if these tomatoes have Ecoli!" I counter.



Just do it. It's part of the Hamburg magic. I trust her. I am here. Enjoy the food she created.

Undeterred, I pinch my fork through the juicy tomato. I bring it to my mouth and bite.

You're doing it Paul. You're risking life to 'live.' Take that, outbreak scare!

I gobble another tomato.


Back in the moment, I look up at the painting next to me. Something about it strikes me. It means something. I don't know what, but it feels important. Its simplistic style communicates more than words. If only I could translate them.

"Did you paint that?" I ask.

A pause.
"Yes. Do you know what it means?"

I blurt out what my gut thinks, "Someone lost their hat.. Maybe the hat wants to get lost?"

"The hat goes where the wind takes her. Like me." she says.

"Elusive, Like a butterfly." I respond.

She smiles.

"Yes. I painted it after my pilgrimage, the Camino de Santiago. It's a journey from France to Spain," she explains.

Impressive! I eat another tomato.

"I did part of the Camino de Santiago, but not until Santiago," she continues. "I walked 600km, the best experience of my life," she says with a smile.

"By yourself?" I ask.

"Yes."

"Are there hostels along the way?" 

"Every 5km, 10km, or 20km. Locals offer their place to pilgrims by hanging a seashell on their door."

A symbol. Somehow that puts me at ease.


The conversation turns. I ask questions. Because I like to. She says I should be a journalist, haha.


She turns to me. "Now tell me one thing, because I don't know if we have this word in German. Your couchsurfing profile mentions that you are...what does it mean, dorky?"

I laugh and nearly fall out of my chair.

"It's... difficult to explain. Hmm. I think it's when you're interested in eclectic things. And passionate about odd subjects."

What else.. Hmm there's more attached to the meaning. From my attempts to explain it I think she understands.

"Unintentionally funny," she says.

"Exactly!" for some reason it makes me happy that she summed it up in two words.


"You have dork potential," I tell her with a smile.


From that moment Julia began using the phrase "okie dorky," (which coming from someone with a German accent is quite hilarious.)


We scrape our plates clean. We're hungry dorks.

I see a guitar in the corner. An idle guitar is full of potential.
"What do you play?"

She smiles. "I'll show you."


First the strings, a light tune, almost peaceful. Then German lyrics. Her voice is passionate and I don't understand the words but I can almost follow the story. Like a female version of Don McLean? Haha. 

A relaxing song.
A fast-paced song.


I ponder.
I am in Germany. In a greenhouse-like kitchen, listening to a musician do her work. This..is different.

For a minute I forget about Ecoli.
Bacteria got nothin' on this.