Wroclaw Gnomes…Freedom Fighters!

Did you know these little creatures in Wroclaw were first created in the early 1980s as a sign of rebellion against Communism and the harsh laws of those times (Remember Martial Law) ???

They were. And as the police began cracking down on these “gnome-type” protesters, they looked pretty silly. It was a part of the Orange Alternative .

I had no idea. It’s awesome how people chose to stand up and be freedom fighters during times when military and tanks roamed and rolled through the streets.

My photos of gnomes, however, are symbolic and fun — now a part of the city’s culture (many are made to represent their businesses), such as this ice cream gnome…

But, I hope, even through the whimsy of my photos that you will be as fascinated as I to hear the history, and, again, be reminded that Poland was and is a rocking, strong country to be admired.

Wroclaw’s little gnomes reminded me of that!

***

Take a moment to read a fascinating article on their origins: http://www.bbc.com/travel/story/20171017-the-truth-behind-wrocaws-cheeky-gnomes

Dessert to steal your heart…

I kid you not…we ate these divine ditties in the Square of Wroclaw while watching bubbles float over fountains and listening to a solo saxophone playing love songs with soulful perfection…

After that we walked across Saint Jadwiga’s bridge to board a small boat and travel the Odra, taking in every magical sight…

Before crossing the bridge of love to leave our mark with a lock…

I can recommend visiting so many places in Poland. But this one, Wroclaw, truly will steal your heart!

And then light it on fire at night with an actual lamp lighter, in full costume, walking the streets bringing them from darkness into night life…

All the while, church bells ring…

Would I recommend travel to Poland?

In a heartbeat!

Would I recommend Wroclaw?

Is the Pope Catholic???

Yes!

Life in Ruins…

There is literally nothing more humbling than seeing the greatest in ruins.

Life is very short, my friends.

Live, treasure, love well!

Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust.

#thankfulforeternity #faithendures #lovegod #lovebig #lovepeople #andthesethreeremain #faith #hope #love #olympia #greece

Jet lag is like a fly

fly

Do you know that pesky fly?  The one that swirls around you?  It actually, even though an insect, begins to cause you self-doubt.  About hygiene.  Do you really smell that bad?  I mean, you know that you traveled for basically two days—but you thought you showered.

Or did you?

Or did you dream you showered?

Or were you DREAMING about a shower?

Or did you shower the kids but forget about yourself?

The fly won’t leave you alone and now you wonder if you need a shower!!!!!

#jetlag

It’s killing my sanity.

This is what my last 5 days have looked like:

Day 1:  Airplane (3 to be exact).  I slept approximately 1 hour on all 3.  At the airport, in Munich, I laid down on the benches after having my husband SWEAR on his very life and beard that he would WATCH our children with his 41 eyes and make sure no one stole my purse in the meantime, then I crashed.  For approximately 2 hours.

He has snoring video in public to prove it.

I don’t even care.

Night 1 in Poland:  The 3 and 5 year olds did not sleep.  Nearly at all.  The 5 year old eventually waned off as the sun was rising.  The 3 year old is more stubborn than a mule and beat the sun.  She finally seceded around noon.

The decade plus one daughter was already OUTTA the house and OFF to friends.  Goodbye, my firstborn.  WE LOVE YOU…REMEMBER US!

Yeah, right.  We haven’t hardly seen her since.  One night at Wiktoria’s house (Victoria in English), Oliwia’s a second night, and now Nikola’s.  Yep.  The decade plus 1 missed her little Polska wies (Polish village).

Nights 2 and 3 and 4 also lost to JOJO the GIANT!  She won hands down each and every time.  The sun has NOTHING on the spirit of our 3-year-old.

Night 5.  Ah, lovely Night 5.  My hopes were in you.

You were my precious.  I held you in my hand.  I cuddled you.  I made you feel important.  I knew you had a big job ahead of you.  And I knew you, Night 5, were the one to do it.

And, alas, you won.  At 1am, the 3-year-old fell asleep with me stroking and singing to her.  Yes, I sing in private.  Heck, I sing in public—you people just don’t appreciate it as much as my spawn (smile and wink)…

And with the delicate balance of tiptoeing and delicately stepping over EVERY TOY in Max and Josephine’s room which is currently out so that every single marble and doll will know it is loved even though there was a 6-week-absence, I made it out of the room without any crash.

Voile!

I crawled into bed.  THE FIRST NIGHT I would sleep in bed.  If one in the morning is still considered night—and I closed my eyes.

My respite was sweet.  And short.

Oh so short.

The 3 year old came and told me that she DID NOT WET THE BED but her PANTS were all wet.

Yes.  That is called “Not wetting the bed—it magically wet me” syndrome.  It occurs often with our third.  The other two have bladders that could win Olympic Golds.

So I took the daughter that was victim of the vicious bed to the toilet—hastily cleaned her off and threw her in bed with me.

That’s when my victory became my defeat.

She was NO LONGER TIRED.  She was wide awake.  She jumped, and crawled, and laid, and sprawled all over me.

Could she see my phone?

Could she watch a movie?

Could she hold my phone?

Could she see the lullabies playing?

Could she listen to my ear—after all, my ear was making the SAME noise as a volcano.

No, my dear…That’s MY HEAD!  And you are the cause of that.  (I thought to express this to her—but, come on, she’s three…She wouldn’t even care if I did).

To TOP IT OFF…My husband is on the other side of my daughter shouting in his sleep, “I’m going to get you!” Followed with actual karate chopping motion and sounds, “Katcha-katcha!”

I kid you not.

Somehow, miraculously in the midst of the karate chopping albeit sleeping husband and the “NOT TIRED” toddler, I managed to coax her to sleep—legs on top of my head and all.

By this time, it is now after 3am and DARN HER…Guess who is not tired now?

Me.

And so I sit.  With this pesky night fly swirling around my very head.  Touching my hand and invading all sorts of personal space (I LITERALLY CANNOT STAND FLIES—I have a bubble, flies, respect it!).  Typing. To you.  Because you care, don’t you?

And if you don’t, don’t worry.

I’m still here with my fly.

He doesn’t seem to be going anywhere.

Just like Josephine’s jet lag.

Sigh.

I wish I could be like Richard, my sleeping husband, and “Get you, Jet Lag, katcha-katcha!” (insert super karate chopping action here)

Good thing today is Sunday—I need the glorious grace of Jesus to get me through the day and his ultimate gift of forgiveness because I ALREADY know MY FAMILY IS ALL GOING TO NEED IT as this Momma is going on 0 hours of sleep.

Thanks to jet lag…my least friend.

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:

FullSizeRender-1

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):

hisfeet

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

 

#sisterchicks and what we learned traveling through Italy!

sisterchickstakevenice

“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!

 

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