Happy Mother’s Day #failblog to Me!

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“YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND ME, MOMMA!” My 3-year-old son shouted at me today.

Yes.  On Mother’s Day.

The sacred day for Mothers.

Why would a 3-year-old shout that he is not understood?

Well, for starters, his 2-year-old sister slightly colored on his Spiderman coloring picture and I told him it was going to be okay.

I even cut around the pencil scratches she made…

But, apparently, it was NOT OKAY!

I don’t understand…

And then he wanted crunchy toast for lunch.

So I made it.

Buttered bread, into the oven, voile!  Out comes crunchy toast.

But NOOOOOOOOO!

He wants the bread in the oven first to get crunchy…THEN…And, apparently, only THEN…can I butter his toast.

“YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND ME, MOMMA!!!”

Yes, Maxwell.  This is where you are 100 million 25 billion 49 quadrillion 237 gazillion correct.  I DON’T UNDERSTAND YOU!

Happy Mother’s Day to me?????

Absolutely!

Because just when all sanity was lost, a dear friend showed up delivering flowers on behalf of my husband who is 1 trillion kilometers away…

Flowers…on a day when I was LOSING.  Like BIG TIME!

Flowers…for me!

mothersdayflowers

Winds of change…This surprise uber lovely visit shuffled all children AND crying 3-year-olds outside where they began to ride, run, and play in the great outdoors.

Lunch still untouched—but, hey!  Who needs lunch????

Friends…I don’t understand my kids.

My 10-year-old…A mystery!

My 3-year-old…A puzzle!

My 2-year-old…A NO Monster!

If this was baseball, I would be STRUCK out!  Out of that Old Ball Game!

But that’s the thing about mommies.  We don’t strike out.

Well, technically, we MAY strike out…BUT WE DON’T leave home plate.  We make sure that they pitch it again and again and again…hoping for a hit!

Which sometimes we actually make.

The crack of the bat.  The connection of the ball.

We run and run and run…And round those bases so that we can bat again.

Recently I had posted a picture of my 2-year-old trying to escape out the front door to find daddy (who is a trillion miles away).  Her diaper sagging.  I called her #soggybottom.  My soggy bottom baby.  And I captioned the photo: Because sometimes we fail at parenting.

But then an angel wrote and said, “It’s not a parenting fail…It’s well hydrated!”

That’s when it hit me…

I didn’t fail.  I succeeded.  She was well hydrated.  That meant she wasn’t dehydrated.  Which meant, I could avoid taking her to the doctor for fluids.

Complete victory!

My daughter was well-watered.  Forget the soggy bottom baby trying to escape.  At least she was trying to escape hydrated!

More power for her long, long journey!

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I absolutely LOVED how that perspective changed my entire view of the situation.

And, so, I’ll leave you with the same advice my mom used to give me when I’d fall, “Hop up and get going again!  You are fine.”

Dear Moms out there…

You’re not failing.  You are hydrating your children.  Forget all of the details in between…

And, when you need it, remember the words HOP UP!  GET GOING!  YOU ARE FINE!

Because you are…

Happy Mother’s Day to you!

workinprogress

A masterpiece of work in progress!

“He who began a good work in you will be faithful to complete it…” Philippians 1:6

The Original Michelangelo David Versus MY DAVID!

Look, I completely recommend seeing the original David.  There is absolutely nothing like it in the world.

Here is what you need to know:

It is located at the university—who knows where?  On some side street with no line, whatsoever, to get in.  And you will get very lost trying to walk to it.  But you can make it (we did!).  And it was worth every wrong turn.

And, as utterly amazing the sculpture is, I am not quite sure that it is as well mastered or divine as my very own David—my David that appeared out of nowhere to me yesterday while I was taking one of only TWO potty breaks that I actually had from the entire day.  Seriously, folks…one of two!

And here my David comes sauntering in (because of course I MUST take my potty breaks with the door open since I have two toddlers at home), completely naked.  (He can go from dressed to naked in about 3 seconds flat) And full of becoming his very own masterpiece.  Because, of course, as ALL LIFE WITH TODDLERS HAS IT, he was coloring with markers (washable, don’t worry), while I was finally sitting on the porcelain throne for ONLY the second time for the entire day.

My DAVID!  My Masterpiece!

And, I must admit, as divine as I believe the original Michelangelo to be, I think my David may be just as super awesome!

So, of course, after I got off the potty—you know—time’s up for dear ol’ mom, I decided to do my own photoshoot taking similar pictures like I took of the original David in Florence.

Except this David is a Brooke and Richard Masterpiece of God, who battled his own Giant (not Goliath but yet his Goliath of impending death), and now resides not at  Galleria dell’Accademia in Italy but in #villagelife Poland.

You scroll through the photos and decide which David is the greater masterpiece (and, if you choose the original, perhaps don’t tell this momma).

Enjoy!

Let’s begin with the right hand of David that is holding the stone that is used to defeat the Giant Goliath:

davidshand

And now the marker that is held in the right hand of my very own David used to defeat the sanity of mom (notice how it is even a homemade Crayola marker):

mydavidsrock

Next up!  The torso of the original David and his glance and piercing eyes, lightly holding the sling that was used to fight Goliath casually slung over his left shoulder:

hiseyes

And now my Masterpiece David, with his young and youthful toddler belly body (full of like 5 bowls of homemade chicken noodle soup) and his left arm up—holding nothing but air (just because I told him to).  Notice my masterpiece is even glancing off to the left:

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Lastly, or at least what I will display on my page, the feet of Michelangelo’s David.  Seriously.  This young sculptor was truly an amazing artist, as the feet were even carved to perfection (out of marble):

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But, as perfectly as they are carved out of marble, I still think that I find my Masterpiece to be just as perfectly carved.  Here are his feet:

FullSizeRender

And, of course, while I am sitting at the table type-typing this away, two of my greatest Masterpieces given to me by God, are mere feet away, at the window, creating a cherry-tree robot and a meow-meow (in their vivid imaginations, of course) on what was just moments ago very clean windows.

But, hey!  Who needs windows when I have walking, living, talking, breathing, statue Masterpieces to fill my home?

Not me!

I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well.  Psalm 139:14

 

Don’t Ever Help the Local Teens When You’re Traveling on a Foreign Bus

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Oh my.  I am seriously crying over here.  I was reminded yesterday that my sister, the MOST helpful woman you will ever meet, was inspired on our recent trip to Italy (#sisterchick style) to help the local teenage boys out…on the bus…at the top of her voice.

Here is how the story goes…

We were on the Pisa city bus just, very apparently, not making our way to the Leaning Tower…So there we were.  Hanging out.  Watching the city pass us by, while the locals hopped on and off.  Pushing stop buttons when wanting to exit and stamping tickets when boarding.

We knew we had to get back to the train station—so, you know, we had to basically ride the loop out.

This gave us OODLES of time to get really really really like super really bus savvy.  I mean, we were riding it for like an hour—so we did have it figured out.

Stop button meant people wanted off.  Tickets punched meant people would be riding.

The thing is…the bus was so busy that we were all scattered throughout.  From front to back—dragging our ridiculously heavy suitcases with us—carry-on luggage—and lots and lots of sweat from our over-stuffed train ride to get to Pisa from Florence (but that’s another story).

And in the midst of the bus chaos and complete separation we hear from somewhere in the middle a LOUD and TALL REDHEAD shouting in her best Italian #@$&%!

The bustling, overcrowded, LOUD bus comes to a complete moment of silence===and we, the traveling #sisterchicks, all look towards Darby (my sister) and stare.  Mouths open.

What did she just yell?????

Whatever it was, it brought Italy to a standstill.

No one…foreign or otherwise…knew what to do.

And then we hear her, “I am just trying to help stop the bus.”

All of us, however, came to the conclusion that whatever word the teenage boys were shouting on the bus was probably, very likely, absolutely without a doubt, we are sure of it…not the word STOP!

What word was it?

Well, considering it was teenage boys yelling it…let’s just say it was probably a very naughty word that my sister would most likely punish her own teenagers for saying 😉

Yes, here she was, in a foreign country, yelling it at the top of her lungs!

#$%!@##$#!

Needless to say—the bus did stop.

Talking that is.

Not in motion.

It kept rolling…

Much like our laughter to this day.

Oh, dear friends, wherever you go, if there are teenage boys shouting, keep this in mind…

Don’t repeat what they are saying…ESPECIALLY if it is in a foreign language.

And on a bus!

***

photo credit:  Laura Hocknell; photo caption:  Perspective;  photo subject:  DARBY the bus yeller!!!!!

 

#sisterchicks and what we learned traveling through Italy!

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“Prego, Madam!  What do you want?  Why do you knock on the door???  IT IS CLOSED!”

An angry Italian woman yelled at my sister as we peered through the only money exchange in site.

Rule number 1:

Italy takes naps…And don’t mess with them.

***

“Brooke, what are you looking at?  That man over there???”

“Yes!” I answered.  

Holy cow, ladies.  Italy is like the land of red carpet.  George Clooney has nothing on these cobble-stone walkers!

Needless to say, cameras come out—click, click, click!

Rule number two:

Be prepared for MANY Italian masterpieces—and not all of them are centuries old or made of marble.

***

“Brooke, is this the water taxi we take back?”  

I look at the scrolling monitor, the platform, the time—and, being the European live-r, answer with confidence, “YES!  It is.  Run!”

We jump on the rocking water taxi in just enough time to be shoved, trampled, and smothered before the chain goes on and the boat pushes off…Our day in Venice is over, and all we have to do now is find the RIGHT bus off of the island and back to our hotel.

What should have been a 15 minute boat ride, however, later turned into a full-circle 1-hour water taxi ride where I REFUSED to ask for directions, because, you know, I KNOW how to live in Europe.

When we came to our original take-off platform, I swallowed my very big pride and asked the woman manning the boat if and when we would get off on our platform—

She chuckled, told us to jump off, and run to the next platform…

Where we then had no money nor tickets, ducked under the railing and hoped beyond measure that the next boat would take us home.

Well—relatively home since we still had a bus and walk in front of us.

It did—and we even ended the night with homemade spaghetti to boot.

Not bad for my ego, eh?

Rule number 3:

Don’t EVER go with Brooke when it comes to directions

***

I need to sanitize my entire body!

My sister-in-law proclaimed after our lively, full, smell-ful bus ride to the Leaning Tower of Pisa, where I—ONCE AGAIN—put us on the wrong public transportation.  A one-hour tour around the extremely lovely city of Pisa with a girlfriend nearby manning the GPS saying, “Wait, we should be at the Leaning Tower in 7 minutes…” The bus proceeds to turn left…”No, wait…now 11 minutes!”  The bus turns right “No, now 15 minutes…”

Yes.  We took a loop bus around the city and didn’t see a scant drop of the Leaning Tower until we arrived BACK at the train station and decided to take a taxi from there.

Which took approximately 4 minutes to the Leaning Tower and only cost $12 Euro for 6 of us.

BUT…we did get to see the otherwise lovely city of PISA—trampled by bus-goers and smothered by no ventilation and holding on for dear, careening life as the bus driver drove like a cowboy.

leaningtower

Rule number 4:

Remember Rule #3!

***

Should we go see the original Masterpiece David or are we okay with the copy????  We all kind-of wondered…

But, HEY…In Florence, so close to a Michelangelo Masterpiece, we decided we better put on our walking shoes and try to make a way…

BEST DECISION EVER!

And, along the way, we got distracted by lovely shopping, open marketplaces, amazing architecture, and couple Dutch college kids that proceeded to point us in the WAY WRONG direction to the David.  Thankfully, we asked a few other joggers for a second opinion…

Where we made it.

I was in awe.

From his feet to his piercing eyes—Michelangelo’s David was probably one of the most magnificent man-made creations I have ever seen.  And I have lived in Europe a long time, have seen beautiful cathedrals and divine paintings.  I have even dined next to original Monet’s …

Upon leaving the university which houses the David, I bought my parents an awesome Florence reconstructed book and what I thought was the most decent (not showing all body parts of David) bookmark…

Upon my sister returning home and giving my parents the gifts, her 11-year-old son flips the bookmark over where David is fully revealed and proclaims, “WELL!  That is highly inappropriate!”

Hahahahahaha!

Gotta love kids!

Which brings me to my final rule of this #sisterchicksposting…

Rule number 5:

See the David…even in all his glory!  It’s a must.  From the gentle way that David is holding the stone in his right hand, to the way the sling is draped over his back…

From the way his feet lead to his legs and the muscles of youthful strength are perfectly carved …

To the way that his eyes are glancing to the left…

To know that a young 26-year-old man carved this masterpiece out of ONE piece of marble…centuries ago in the days when today’s technology did not exist.

SEE THE DAVID!

hiseyes

And, spend way more time in Florence than we did.  It is worth every single drop of your time and days!

***

Well, we #sisterchicks finished our trip strong (the luggage at the cheap airport I’ll address another day)…

And we had a blast.

I can’t wait until these #sisterchicks abandon their husbands and children again where we will then head to ROME!

OR THE WORLD!

Because traveling with #sisterchicks is well worth every drop of time and energy.

Just remember to never follow my directions!

 

Italy…

I don’t have one sick kid.

I don’t have two sick kids.

I have three sick kids…

And…

As much as I love them—

My sis, sil, and girlfriends are coming in T-4 days.

And momma is going to Italy.

Good luck, Daddy????

What’s it like living in Europe? Here are 10 things I’d like to share with you.

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That’s a great question.  I am sure that every Expat American that lives in Europe has an opinion, how about I share mine?

I should start by sharing some information that will give you background information about me.

1.  I am from the desert of Arizona. Hot.  Dry.  Beautiful.  3rd Generation born in Arizona.  For Europe, 3rd generation born in one area could be a small joke===but, in the States, that’s quite the accomplishment!

2.  We moved to Poland in 2001.  That’s 12 years after the Berlin Wall was opened.  When we first arrived in Poland, we did not get to travel freely within Europe even though the Wall had fallen.  There were still two border crossings to go West.  We had to stop at the Polish border and allow for Polish border guards to rifle through all of our luggage.  Then we had to do the same thing as we entered Germany.  Sometimes border crossing took 3 hours.  And, yes, we saw many people escorted off of the trains with their passports.

Another fact:  American or other Western European Countries’ Passports were very hot commodities often stolen or sold.  If you had a passport that allowed easier travel, then you had more opportunities for work.  We have known people that have bought illegal passports, been caught using them in varying countries to try and find work, and have found themselves in prison because of this.

You should know the majority of the people that participated in these crimes were people with the best intentions—people looking to work.  Work hard.  And save so that they could send money to their families.    It doesn’t make it right—but after living in what was once a country with unemployment raging in some cities at the extremes of 20-40% (in the days when we first arrived), I did have great compassion on those that simply wanted to find work.

*Again—I do not condone illegal measures, I am just sharing facts*

3.  We came without knowing anything but “Byc or not byc.” Which is the funny way to say in half Polish/half English the phrase “To be or not to be…” I think you probably need to speak Polish to giggle at this one.

Anyhow, since we came to Poland without any Polish during a time when hardly anyone spoke English, we lived a life of loud words with lots of hand gesturing and crazy facial expressions or animal sounds to get what we wanted.

For example, if we wanted some beef but didn’t see any behind the butcher counter, we would say, “Czy Pani ma MOO?” (Do you, Ma’am, have any MOO?)

You would think we would attract a whole lot more smiles, but we did move to an Eastern European country, so we mostly just got blank stares 😉

Figuring out everything from how to ride a tram, to buy a train ticket, to shop for milk—everything was extreme amounts of work. We are so thankful we had friends to help lead us along the way. The rest of the time we just suffered humiliation at attempts on our own.

Well, without further can’t hardly sit still in anticipation, ready to read it…Here is my Top 10 List of What It’s Like to Live in Europe as an Expat American:

I will go backwards from 10 to 1.  But please know that I do not succeed at all 10 of these.

10.  Grocery Shopping.

Bring extra money to buy your grocery bag!

Oh, and don’t forget to pack your own groceries, QUICKLY!  As fast as the grocer is throwing them at you, separate and shove into the bags you just bought (unless you are amazingly fantastic at always having extra plastic shopping bags with you).

And never forget your coin for the use of the shopping cart.  Otherwise your arms spilleth over or fall to the floor.  Depending on whether the grocery store HAS a spare basket for you to use (a carry one) or not (some don’t).  So NEVER…and I repeat NEVER…forget your coin to use the grocery cart.

Okay—shopping ALL around is quite the experience.  It’s not for the faint of heart.

Funny labels, different foods, small stores, personal packing, plastic bag buying, grocery cart renting experience.  When I got to the States and started to pack my own groceries the “bagger” was a little upset that I was taking over his job.  Oops.  Habits are hard to hand over.

In the end, I am a rather fast separator, packer, and general bag buyer (I guess I have only accomplished 2 of the 3 needed grocery skills in Europe—I still end up buying a bag EVERY SINGLE TIME).

But, in the end, I have mastered grocery shopping and, therefore, my family eats in Europe.  Phew.

9.  Know how and make your own jam, pickles, pickled items, fresh bread, sausage, and borscht!

You will learn to love cabbage, mushrooms, beets, and repeat.  On top of that, sweet pickles will be considered an unhealthy treat while salted pickles will be what’s good for you!

In other words, your bread will only last a day, you will eat loads of cheese, and your palette will greatly change yet increase!

Bring on the snails, please!  And pickled herring.  Oh, and where is the blood sausage?  Yes!  Put it on top of bulgar wheat.  And, no, not that white cheese—the blah blah blah fancy one over there.

In fact, as long as there are potatoes, wheat, and cabbage in Europe, everyone on this continent will survive.  Oh, along with dill.

It’s a continent of culinary genius!  For sure.  And I L.O.V.E. eating here.

Smacznego!

8.  Dress like you meant to wear it!  And then walk like you mean it.

Seriously, Europeans are so fashionable.  But, and here’s the secret.  They have stockings, funky shoes, scarves, sometimes hats, skinny jeans, and second-hand skirts and throw it all together with a little bit of mascara and a few accessories, looking like fashionistas.

My husband and daughter are amazing Europeans.  Disclaimer—neither are European.  But they put on clothes daily (So now you know that they are REALLY not European.  Smile and wink kind of joke) and voile!  They look amazing.

My daughter wears whatever shoes she wants with short skirts and leggings and then a sweater and allows for her hair to blow in the breeze.  Then she boldly walks to school and smiles.  She is gorgeous and natural and looks like she belongs.

My husband accessorizes his outfits with a fitted sports coat and the right belt, throwing a scarf around his neck and grabbing his leather work satchel when he leaves.  It’s as if GQ dressed him for a photo shoot.

Then there’s me.  For some reason, my love affair with my flip flops prevent me from accessorizing properly.  Therefore, I will remain the staunchly proud American and take gorgeous photos of the European fashionistas that reside under my same roof.

Even my 2 and 1 year olds are already rocking the right shoes, hair, and fedora hats.

I’m glad that when we’re out in public, there only appears to be one tourist in the group—that’s ME!

No, seriously.  If you want my advice:  throw it on and wear it boldly and proudly!  Wear less makeup!  And allow your hair to flow naturally.

Pair that with leather shoes and just the right hat, and there you have it!

You’ll do really well in Europe.

7.  Be Quiet.

No, seriously.  Be quiet.  Unless there is a football game on television, a festival going on in town, or a really drunk singing German nearby (no offense, Germans), be quiet.

This day to day life of walking and shopping and talking and playing is VERY quiet.

I walk outside and the birds fly away.  I am pretty sure that I scare most every European on the continent the minute I walk out the door.

My American voice soars the clouds.

My daughter hides.  My husband shushes me.  My small ones are the only ones that smile.  They still don’t know any better.

Perhaps it’s because Europe is considered the civilized people while we Americans are the wild outlaws.  Who knows?

But my daughter tells me often that I am too boisterous for this nation.

She is right.  But as long as they accept my volume I’ll try and overlook their staring.

So, shall we call it a tie?

Europeans chime in with a probable “No!”  But, if you are American, you hold your ground.  Because if there is one thing America has taught you, it’s how to stay strong.

Actually, that’s a fantastic trait of both countries/continents.  I just voice my strength in a louder volume, causing my daughter and husband to run for the forest where they will then find everyone in Poland on a peaceful family walk.  In silence.

It’s true.

But don’t worry—I’m used to it.  I’m just not sure it is mutual.

6.  Appreciate the old.

There is nothing more beautiful than the old.  When I was in the States, I walked or drove in awe at all of the shiny and new.  It was beautiful.  And I loved every moment.  But there were times when I was looking for the cobblestones or the old homes or the buildings with ivy crawling.

I was looking for the chimneys blowing smoke and the cracks in the walls.

There is nothing wrong with shiny America, but there is something surreally stunning about lovely and lived in.  Quaint.  And peaceful.

And the castles.  Now, mind you, there is a palace or a castle like every 15 minutes, so my daughter told me in the car the other day, “WHY do you have to point out the window ALL THE TIME?!”  Apparently the thrill of a castle or palace does not resonant as strongly when a child grows up in this culture.  But to the never-ending foreigner—ME—I LOVE the turrets I see around every bend!

In the end, America will always be the far younger and shinier cousin country.  And Europe the elegant, older family member.

My vote will always be:  Arizona Deserts 1; Polish architecture 1.  TIE!

The weather, of course, sends it from a draw to an Arizona win.  But that’s just my opinion.

And, since we are mostly talking about architecture, I would have to ultimately say that Europe and its history of brilliant places and buildings takes the cake.

So, who wins?  I don’t know.  Perhaps it’s up to each individual to judge that one.

5.  Shop Europe!

My daughter got so frustrated when we were in the United States.  She began looking at EVERY item and would proclaim, “WHY IS EVERYTHING FROM CHINA?”

She was proud to be in America but very sad that she could hardly find anything at all that was truly American.

In Europe, however, even though products from China are slowly creeping into stores, you will overall find most items proudly made in Europe.

America, take a hint!

4.  Drink REAL Coffee.  Not brown water!

My husband and I were in the United States when we asked for some coffee at a restaurant.  The server brought us brown water.  We tasted it and thought, “What did we do to deserve such torture?!”

It was disgusting.

To be fair, we had not been in the States for many years at that point, so we had forgotten that brown water in the States is what they refer to as “Coffee”.

Coffee my foot!

You get better coffee at the gas station in Italy then you get at most places in the United States.

Just saying—weak, cheap, and flavorless brown water is not coffee.  America, take this lesson from Europe.  Stronger is better.

And it will definitely MAKE YOUR DAY!

3.  Prepare for the onslaught of Tourists.  And, no, they are NOT all Americans.

Europeans are GREAT European travelers.  But, if you think about it, it makes SENSE!  Europe is geographically not the largest continent.  Yet is has a million and one countries.  Therefore, to go on vacation, you can cross two borders in one day.

I think that we often believe as Americans that we are the only tourists in Europe.  We’re not.

And, don’t let the Europeans give you a hard time about speaking English.  Because, guess what.  When they cross the borders for their vacations, they generally have to speak English in their country destinations, too.

But—and these are what I wouldn’t mind most American tourists hearing loud and clear—don’t be rude and obnoxious and demanding.  And DON’T put down America at every conversation with a foreigner.

There are a whole lotta countries in the world.  No one knows them all.  So no need to apologize for your desire to travel the world and yet LEARN about it while you travel.

That’s okay.  And, when all is said and done, after you are home, you will know more because you were there.

Come and enjoy Europe.  You’ll leave with a new zeal and zest for life after you do.

And definitely come to Poland.  It is, in my opinion, one of the greatest countries you could ever experience!  No joke.  And see you here soon.

2.  Kissing is Good!

Just come prepared to kiss.  Many and multiple times.  Do not be shy.  And carry breath mints.

I have not met a European yet that does not greet with lovely kisses.  On the cheeks.  1, 2, 3 times or more!

Some, depending on the celebration, on the lips!

Yummy!

So, come to Europe and pucker up, for you will get kissed.

1. Climb the Stairs!

As much as they are constantly renovating and revamping, Europe is one big castle.  Lots of cobblestone.  Lots of small streets.  Lots of stairs.

And very tall buildings.  Without elevators or escalators.

But with stairs.

Our office is on the 3rd floor.  I think nothing of it when I grab my bag, my lunch, my coffee and hike the stairs.

But, when I am in the States, to even go to the 2nd floor of a building, I head over to the elevator and wait.

And while I wait for the elevator, I could have walked up and down the stairs a couple of times.  Yet I still wait.  And wait.  And wait.  And wait.

Yep!  As active as America is, we are still, in the day in and day out activities, still rather inactive.

Like driving to school or the grocery store.  When, technically, they are but a 10-20 minute walk away.

What’s it like living in Europe?

It’s one big walk.

And we like it that way!

How about you?  Are you an expat American living in Europe or perhaps another country?  What do you agree with?  Disagree with?  Please share!

When Foreigners Meet the US…

Haha!

Okay.  Let me backtrack.

I am sure that each of us, if we have traveled outside of the United States, could give a short synopsis of what we observed, how things were different, what we liked, and what we didn’t like in each foreign country that we visited.  Sometimes the list will be longer for the positives.  Sometimes for the negatives.  And, sometimes, the list will be split down the middle.  Each country is unique and different.  And not ours.  Therefore, the list and experiences go on and on and on.

On Yahoo, they posted an article about other visitors to the US, and their observations.  I loved reading what someone from each different country had to say about his/her observations in the United States.  I must say, however, that I don’t quite think that I would open the refrigerator at a stranger’s house.  Now, if I were at a friend’s house, that’s a different story.

Anyhow, I hope that you enjoy the read.  Before you start, however, I will start with a few of my fun observations of my short visits to other countries, too.

1.  Mexico—While we were being all touristy and stuff on our honeymoon, we took a dune buggy ride into some very rural back villages.  Villages, if that is what you can call them.  We passed rivers where women were washing clothes before we made a stop at a very small village store (store being used lightly).  At the store I noticed that, although it was the middle of the day, most children were roaming around instead of being at school.  Therefore I asked, “What time do you guys go to school?”  The answer, “Our teacher travels into our village two days a week.  That’s when we go to school.”

I absolutely LOVE Mexico, but at that moment I realized education is a valued privilege in so many parts of the world.  These kids, I am more than sure, when those two days of school rolled around, were eager participants to attend and happy to learn.

As we drove off, I left thinking, “Man, there is so much I could learn from those kids in regards to appreciation.”

2.  Italy (Venice)—So, we had just traveled all over Venice and came to an opening.  It’s largely crowded islands with many narrow passages, bridges, and, of course, spectacular canals.  Venice, itself, is a blog posting on its own, but as we came into this slightly larger opening, I was enthralled.  Laundry hung out windows, children played football in their miniscule space between walls, tourists, and this one, lone cafe.

While dodging the children’s football, we were so happy to find this cafe that we proceeded to occupy one of the few tables, making ourselves comfortable, and ordering, happily.  After all, we were in Venice, Italy.  Happiness and good coffee both abound!

Now, you need to understand that we (2 Americans) were in Italy with:  1 Venezuelan, 1 Pole, 1 Norwegian, and 1 Sri Lankan.  Despite our varied countries backgrounds, we all ordered the same drink and in unison said, “6 Lattes, please!”

Minutes later our waiter brought a tray out to us, but we were sure that he had to be at the wrong table.  After all, we had said, “Lattes!”  And what was coming toward us were tall glasses of frothing milk.

Ummm…what would we do?  Our Norwegian friend took charge, “Sir, we ordered Lattes.”

Waiter—blank stare.  “These are lattes.”

And that’s when it hit us, “Caffe lattes,” after all, we were in Italy.  Home of some of coffee’s finest.

But, of course being in Italy, everything ended happily anyway.  Our waiter graciously took our frothing milk back and added a shot of espresso to each just for our drinking pleasure.

What did we learn?  While in Italy, make sure you order caffe with your latte!

3.  Germany—Being neighbors with Germany, we have actually spent quite a bit of time there.  When we first moved to Poland the borders were still closed.  So, if we flew into Berlin, we traveled to Poland by train, which meant we had to make sure that we had our passports available and handy at the German/Polish border.

First we had to get the “All clear” from the German border patrol.  But that wasn’t all, then we had to get the same “All clear” from the Polish border patrol.

It’s not that it was a problem, but it was always time consuming.  And, because we were usually coming from America, we always had our bulging luggage with us.  Which means that the German border patrol would find our large, overstuffed suitcases oddities (most people travel the trains with very light luggage or backpacker packs).  Hence a very thorough check of each suitcase in our possession took place.  And just as the German border patrol would give the “All clear” on our luggage, the Polish border patrol would come by and examine our luggage, too.

Also, because the borders were closed, it was always interesting as you watched the border patrol agents carefully exam each passport.  Our across the lane neighbor, once, obviously did not have a passport or name pleasing to the agents as he was escorted from the train when his did not receive the “All clear”.  Let me say, I am glad my passport or name was always authentic and in good standing.

Anyhow, back to Germany.  So not only did we fly into Berlin, we would also drive through Germany if going to countries such as Austria or Italy.  On one trip through Germany our daughter got violently ill.  We actually thought she had appendicitis.  We typed “hospital” on our GPS and found one just miles away.  While they ran all of their tests on Adelyne, I went to the little cafe to get something to drink.  Low and behold, in the German hospital cafe, they were serving beer.

Now, I was surprised.  But should I have been?

What did I learn in Germany?  Octoberfest occurs everywhere (smile and wink), and, I guess, beer will make you feel better.

4.  Poland—It’s fitting I mention Poland since we were once newbies there.  Let’s see.  I’m loud.  And we were on a tram (public trolley-type enclosed car—maybe known as light rail in the States).  There was something funny said, and I belly laughed!  All eyes on the tram.  On me.  Not a single smile but mine and my friend’s.  It’s then that I noticed the tram.  Complete silence.  Not a single sound.

I learned my lesson that day.  When entering a Polish tram, you sit, preferably next to the window, with or without a book, and either A. Read your book or B. Stare out the window of the tram.  C Never takes place:  C.  Talk and laugh hysterically.  Because.  Because nothing on a tram is worth discussing or funny (smile and wink 2).

No.  Joking.  I definitely learned that day that I, most VERY likely, was the perfect depiction of “Loud American” to every Polish passenger on that tram.  Funny thing, though, my loud friend was not American (and obviously not Polish).  Had the passengers of the tram known that it would have rocked their socks.  Another loud culture out there in the world?  Impossible!

What did I learn, for real, that day on the Polish tram?  That I could turn my volume button down a few notches and not find the world quite as funny.  No.  Kidding again.  I learned that just because it’s your nature to be loud or funny, you can definitely be respectful of where you are and the people around you.  You don’t have to be as loud as you find the situation.  Learning about another culture doesn’t mean that you have to give up who you are.  It means that you are respectful of where you are and who you are with.

Well, enough of my observations.  Finally, here you go, the link to the Yahoo article.  I hope that you enjoy reading the observations of others as much as I did!

Yahoo article:  Don’t Drink the Water: Translated Travel Tips for Coming to America:

http://travel.yahoo.com/blogs/compass/don-t-drink-water-visitors-travel-tips-coming-194949993.html

Meeting Your Spouse in the Middle…of Adventure!

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(c. photo R. Nungesser, Dolomites, Italy)

When I thought about dating my husband, I kept two very important things in mind.  And these two things were no small matters:

1.  Richard was available to go anywhere in the world to serve God…ANYWHERE.

2.  Richard was very, very adventurous!

My father always told me that part of a good marriage was having fun and going on adventures.

So I had to think.  Hard.

How much adventure did I really want in my life?

How far did I really want to go to live—even if it was for God?

For some of you, these questions are no brainers.

You may say, “Anything for love!”

Or “Off, off, and away!”

Or “Never in a million years!  My way or the highway!”

Well, I had a very content life.  I was extremely into service in my community.  And I loved my job.  And my family all lived within 20 minutes of each other.

My life was rather comfortable.  Grand.  Lovely.

And here I was considering dating a man that would take this glorious life and FLIP it literally upside down.

But then I thought about it…Would I rather a comfortable life without Rich or an unexpected life with Rich?

And, well, you know how the story goes…

I went with the unexpected.  I married Rich.

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(c. photo Bill Holmes at wedding of Rich/Brooke)

Now, don’t get me wrong.

I am full of adventure too.

I have been jumping off mountains LONG before I ever met my husband (para punting).

I am the one that dragged my husband bungee jumping.

I have been parasailing and snorkeling since I was in my teenage years.  And riding dirt bikes since the age of 5.  And camping-I’m a pro.

I’ve even been on helicopter ride (front seat) in New Zealand.  We landed and walked around on a glacier.  Yeah, baby!

You see, it’s not that I am a complete bore.

BUT—I do enjoy coffee, fires, books, movies.  I enjoy cuddling up at home.  I love to write.  And I love to eat!  Good food and lots of conversation.  Those are my leisure pursuits!

Then you have my husband:  white water guide down the Arkansas River in Colorado for 3 years and thousands of miles; sky diving; snowboard instructor; rock climbing guide; mountaineering man; pilot of a small plane.

Yep.  It’s obvious to see that he has out-adventured me.

And, yes, he’s taken me rock climbing (My least favorite adventure—let me tell you about the 90-foot-rappel.  NOT MY FAVORITE).

He’s taken me flying (and he wanted me to grab the gears while he TIED his shoes.  CRAZY MAN).

He’s taken me down the river—and he didn’t even dump us!  Impressive.  Because we watched three boats dump after we made it through the rapids and ended up helping rescue many floaters after that.

And he has taught me how to snowboard (I was a skier).  Ummm…I am not sure that my bum ever appreciated those lessons.  OUCH!

So, it’s not even that I am really a dud.  I have gone on some of his adventures with him…

In fact, 5-months pregnant, we went swimming with Manta Rays and snorkeling where I was STUNG by a jelly fish (yes, it HURTS…bad!).

But it comes down to this.

He can LIVE off of adventure.

I can only live to experience adventure.

And when we moved to Poland—a very flat part of Poland—I actually felt something for my husband.  Empathy.

Here he was in the peak of his health and physical fitness.  Here he was still young enough to experience physical adventures and we were in the land of flat.  Yes, many lakes, but very little places for high-risk adventure.

And, like I said, I was all chill with that.  But he-he was a bit sad.

That’s when I decided that I needed to step it up in the wife department and create adventure for my husband—Meet Him in the Middle.

While adventure was not near, I had to help create adventure from afar.

Here are some ways that I was able to help my husband achieve continued adventure:

He went to work in Uganda for 6 weeks (he had previously worked in Kenya for 3 months before we were married).  Before his work began, he was able to meet up with his brother and a friend in Tanzania and they all climbed Mt. Kilimanjaro.  In April.  In the middle of a massive snowstorm.  And, of course, my husband was in heaven.

In Poland, I got him Scuba Diving Lessons/Certificate for Father’s Day one year.  He can now go for his Level II.  (I’ll have to make that happen one day, eh?)

He was able to go to the Dolomites in Italy with a friend, Artur, and climb all of the routes that required helmets and ropes.  Again, heaven.

And, one of my proudest, Mt. Elbrus on the Russia/Georgia border.  Unfortunately I sent him there during the Russia/Georgia conflict.  Let’s just say that it was a good thing there was a snow-covered mountain between them and the conflict.  (In fact, I think that he’s going to write about this adventure in his next blog posting for us)  But they made it successfully.  Phew!

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(Richard on Mt. Elbrus, Russia)

What did I do while he went on his adventures?

Well, I worked.  I took care of Adelyne.  I “stoked” the coal and took care of all of the home-front fires.  But that’s all okay.   Because I was very glad to do it.

And I am still glad to do it.

One of my greatest joys in life is not only to see people come to know how awesome Jesus is—but it’s to take care of my family.

If that means sending them off to the wiles of the jungle-then so be it.  As long as they are happy to go AND remember to come home safely.

I know one day Adelyne and Maxwell and Belly Josephine will also want to go on adventures.

And I’ll have to take a look at their dad and say, “It’s your time.  Go forth and shine!”

And it’ll be a time for new adventure in his life-Teaching his children how to go and experience the world.

I’ll sit at home, with my coffee and a big dose of prayer on my lips.  But I know that it will be worth it.   Because seeing joy in the eyes of my family is enough of an adventure for me!

And that is how I meet my spouse in the middle.  How about you?