The Inevitable

Oh, crap. Blogger has a "new look" and I am now completely lost... I'm sure this new facade is beneficial in some way; more streamlined, more user friendly, more profitable or something. Still, it makes me feel the way I imagine a 78 year old who's never touched a computer to feel about sending an e-mail.

Change.

It's so good; so healthy! Yet it's scary and annoying and frustrating as all get out.

I was going to write about something entirely different today, but having encountered this new obstacle I think that Change is an excellent topic! We all have to face it and it's quite possibly the most frequent hurdle military-related folk have to overcome. For some of us it never gets easier, no matter how often we deal with it; others embrace it like a picture of a cat on the internet. I choose to embrace change the way I would a baby that's just pooped itself: with much hesitation and a sick feeling, knowing that I have to deal with whatever horrid substance just entered that diaper and is assaulting my senses.

When I was in retail, I freaked out when my manager changed how we queued customers on Black Friday. Why on Earth change something that has worked for years? It's not broke, don't "fix" it! Keep your smelly, baby-poo ideas to yourself and let me run my business! ...I was like a five year-old who had just been told she couldn't take her teddy bear to mall. Sure it was probably a smart decision! I could see the benefit in it (when I wasn't thinking what a stupid idea it was). But like hell I wanted to go through with it!

Imagine how I felt when I found out I was going to have to lend my husband to the war effort for 12 months.

...which turned into 15 months.

I remember laying in bed a week or two before he was scheduled to leave with that sinking feeling in my stomach, trying to think of some way to get out of having to face this. There was no military or political reason I could think of that would cancel the deployment.... so maybe if I got terminally ill he could get excused! No... they send people all the time whose loved ones are sick or cancerous. Oh! What if I got hit by a car? I would get hurt, but not dis-figuratively so, and go into a year-long coma - waking up just in time for his homecoming! But what if he dies while I'm in the coma? No good. ..what if Afghanistan spontaneously imploded?!

Short of the miraculous implosion that would somehow leave all the innocents safe and unharmed, I realized I was going to have to actually do this. It was the most disheartening realization of my life. Maybe next to the realization that I had known that I actually chose this life. I'm nearly positive that there's a moment in every military spouse's life when we think back to that moment of confidence we had when we thought "S/he's probably going to get deployed... but that's ok! I can do this! :-D" and want to punch our past selves in the face. Not for choosing the person we did! Just for being so damned cocky in thinking this would somehow not be excruciatingly difficult.

You know those moments in action movies where they make the hero out to be even more of a bad ass because someone who's obviously terrified asks 'how are you not afraid?!' and the hero's always like "I am."

THAT'S a deployment. Only you don't feel like more of a BAMF when you're going through it. Your heart still races every time there's a knock at the door. You just have to keep moving forward; adapt to what you are forced to endure.

But change in military life isn't always awful. After all, there's the opportunity to live in exciting new places like Germany! See the world! But don't think that makes change any less difficult.

The difference is that first, you are elated! The dawn of this realization is slow and steady, full of beautiful and exciting colors. Each little obstacle is just a check box toward the awesomeness coming your way. The promise of a new day distracts you, lets you ignore the fact that the night is dissolving.

Then at some point it hits us all, the stress of change. The crowning moment where all the little things come to a head. Suddenly we're in full daylight, forced to confront the sun and realizing we can't snuggle up in the comfort of our own bed.

For me, it was only a few weeks after we arrived. Our cat, Clyde, was suddenly very sick and it was clear he needed a vet. Feeling confident, I called the on-post clinic to schedule an appointment. I didn't even know where the clinic was! But I'd figure it out, I told myself. Except the woman on the phone informed me that they didn't have an appointment available for another 3 months and I would have to see someone "on the economy", as they say. ['On the economy' refers to anything off-post; thus, outside the little American economy and part of actual Germany.]

Enter Amy. Thank the stars for Amy!

Amy was a fellow spouse who had contacted me as part of the 'welcoming committee'. Normally I would avoid such things like the plague - grateful for their enthusiasm and service, but weary of their potential dysfunction and gossip. Persistent and spunky, she won me over though. I was thankful for her in general, but even more so when she came to my (and Clyde's) rescue! No sooner had I posted the sick kitty dilemma to Facebook than she had called me, given me the number to a vet (that spoke English), and told me she was on her way to scoop us up. She even told me what to say!

I only noticed my hands were shaking as I was writing a note to my husband, in case he came home while we were gone. I realized things were bad when I had to will myself to pick up the phone and dial the vet. I was terrified of how this exchange would go! What if they didn't actually speak English? What if we couldn't understand each other without the context of body language?! What if the number was wrong... Oh, why did Clyde have to get sick now? Why didn't I take German in college? WHY did we have to come to Germany?! The thrill had warn off and I was outside my comfort zone. So methodically, I checked things off in my head: get Clyde into carrier, find and set out his medical record, write note to husband, write down our new phone number and address, set out proper forms to take with us. Then frantically, I left it all on the counter.

Despite the fact that we were cutting into his lunch time, the vet was amiable and took good care of us. Note: us. Not just Clyde.

I was beginning to feel the relief of having successfully overcome another obstacle of change when they asked for my phone number. ...which I didn't know. And my address. ...which I couldn't remember. And my VAT form. ...which I didn't have. And the medical records. ...that I'd left on the counter. All of these were things that Amy had specifically told me to bring and I'd forgotten them. I wanted to burst into tears on the spot! She was on very good terms with the vet and here I was setting a bad example as an American, a military spouse, and making her look bad by being completely unprepared, disorganized, and incompetent! I wanted to crawl under a rock but couldn't! So I did the next best thing: stopped talking.

If I get too uncomfortable in a situation I do one of two things: babble uncontrollably or clam up entirely, resorting exclusively to body language and generic sounds of agreement (mm-hmm!). This time I chose the latter. The race had gone on too long and my legs simply would not launch me over this last hurdle. But I was not alone. They took up the slack I left in the conversation and it all worked out happily in the end. What I saw as a mountain of frustration and inadequacy was nothing to fret over for them and they got me through, despite my lack of words.

So in the end, it isn't always about the outcome or the destination. It isn't whether something is getting better or worse. Sometimes, it is just about the change. For many of us, change is scary and difficult. The important thing to remember is that you don't have to go through it alone. There are people and tools all around us that are meant to help.

Now if only I could get Blogger to stop giving me these instructions in German...

Royale with Cheese

So, if you’ve ever watched the movie Pulp Fiction, you’re familiar with the famous “Royale with Cheese” scene. And if you haven’t… then you should really go watch it. Great movie! But here’s a little recap for you. (Caution: Strong language. Not recommended for young'ns or work environments.)

Vincent (John Travolta) and Jules (Samuel L. Jackson) are riding around in a car, chatting. Vincent has recently made a trip overseas, visiting such European cities as Amsterdam and Paris, and is telling Jules about the little differences between the U.S. and Europe.

Vincent: “….and in Paris, you can buy a beer in McDonalds. You know what they can a.. uh.. a Quarter Pounder with cheese in Paris?”

Jules: “They don’t call it a Quarter Pounder with cheese?”

Vincent: “No man, they got the metric system. They don’t know what the [bleep] a Quarter Pounder is.”

Jules: “Then what do they call it?”

Vincent: “They call it a Royale with Cheese…”

I have always wondered if this is, in fact, true.

Tory and I have seen the American fast food joints over here – namely McDonalds and KFC – but have chosen to avoid it and sample the more authentic local flavor. However, we recently took a trip to Paris for our anniversary and happened upon a McDonald’s one evening. 

Can it really be that different? We wondered.

We decided to find out.

Upon entering, we encountered our first major difference:

Person-less ordering.

The menu was divided by the size of your appetite, side items, meals, cold drinks and hot drinks (which appear to be considered a “treat” in Europe). While we weren’t quite in the mood for one (especially one that comes from McDonald’s), we did discover: yes, you can get a beer at McDonald’s in Paris!

It isn’t too surprising as alcoholic beverages are not as taboo in Europe as they are in the States. Perhaps those that settled this country in search of religious freedom were also seeking freedom from alcohol? Probably not… but the small, yet very distinct, differences you encounter here are incredible!

The next item to search for was the infamous “Royale with Cheese” – brother to the Quarter Pounder. We searched the menu, messed up our order a few times, then searched again. Alas, we never found it. The closest thing we found was this:

A double cheeseburger.

Amazingly, I tasted almost no difference between the American double cheeseburger and the Parisian double cheeseburger. Just because it was "French", it wasn't any better in quality. I guess wherever you go - McDonald's is McDonald's.

We did find another small difference, though. In the States, we only serve ketchup – maybe some mustard – with our fries. In Paris, however, they serve “Pommes Frites Sauce” [French Fry Sauce] with fries, as well.

Pommes Frites Sauce is pretty much European mayonnaise. We’ve discovered that what they call mayo over here is not the thick, goopy spread we would think of back home. This has a little more spice and tang to it and is more sauce-like than mayonnaise.

All that aside…

The search for the great Royale with Cheese continues.

[And for those of you wondering, a more thorough update of our Paris venture will be provided soon – complete with pictures. Promise.]

Caution: Watch for Falling Acorns

It came with the sound of falling acorns. The day before had been clear, warm and sunny, almost as if to mock my stuffed sinuses and upset stomach. By mid-afternoon, though, dark clouds had begun to creep in and rain was soon to follow.

We used to wake to glaring sunlight peeping through gaps in the curtains, burying our faces in the blankets as a poor attempt to get one more hour of sleep. This morning, however, it was dark. It wasn’t the typical cool morning air that wafted through the open window, either. It had grown cold. And it was quiet, except for the gentle rustle of dried leaves in the wind. I didn’t hear it let go. There was no whistle in the wind as it plummeted through the crisp morning air; but just as I opened my eyes, I heard it: pang!

A dangerous little acorn had fallen from the tree outside, striking the roof of an unsuspecting car beneath.

I was glad it was not someone’s head.

Fall had arrived.

The past six months had raced by with blazing speed! We attended our first German fest, finally had our formal wedding ceremony, rang in summer with another fest, made some new friends, had our first house guests, and welcomed another new season with yet another fest. …and I failed to blog about ANY of it! I fail. Let me catch you up:

• Germans like to pair beer with anything. Children? Rollercoasters? Historic tours? Bungee jumping? All of these are better with beer.
• Fests are like state fairs, only better. Why? More beer! The Fruhlingsfest (Spring fest) and Volksfest have rides, but better rides than you’d see at a state fair. I’m talking log rides, full-size rollercoasters, and the scrambler.
• Eating in Germany is always delicious. While the fests are like state fairs, you don’t get ‘Deep Fried Kool-Aid’ or ‘Fried Cheese on a Stick’ stands. You get ½ meter bratwursts, fresh fruit, candied nuts, mushrooms in sauce, etc. Eat your heart out, America! (but go for a run or something, afterward)
• Are you getting married? Don’t be fooled! Your wedding day will definitely be the happiest day ever… but it’s probably going to be one of the most stressful days ever, too! Just relax and remember… if the cake isn’t the flavor you asked for, it’s not the end of the world. (That’s when you lose one of the really rare pearls your husband got you for your birthday during his R&R! But even that you will survive. ;) )
• Marriage isn’t easy. It will teach you things that you didn’t even know you didn’t know! Like the definition of “compromise” and “unconditional”, or that there is actually more than one way to fold something or load a dishwasher. Just remember to laugh – at yourself – every once in a while and you’ll be fine. : )
• Summer is hot. You just don’t realize how hot until you don’t have air conditioning… and neither does the gas station… nor the post office… so you find yourself going to the grocery just to “browse” the frozen food section for a few hours.
• When attending a wine fest or a beer fest… leave at least a few hours before the last train. Or wear a poncho, a gas mask, and rubber shoes. It’s your call!
•  Having house guests is a blast! We look forward to our next visitors. *Coughcoughwinteristhecheapseasoncough*

Ta-da! That was our spring, summer, and intro to fall.

Now, watch for falling acorns!

Our First Biergarten

Nice weather in Germany is rare. ...or so people tell us. They say it's usually too cold or rainy to be out. Well, we've been fortunate enough to experience some *great* weather early on in the season! The only down side is that because the weather is so amazing and nice only rarely, everyone is out and about to enjoy it when the sun comes out. One woman told me that if the sun comes out, people put off their house chores, their school work, etc. Anything that must be done indoors is postponed in order to enjoy the lovely weather with a walk through the park, a trip to the Eis (ice cream) store, etc. One man, in particular, enjoys sunbathing in nothing but a speedo in the park. Ah, Germans... :)

My dear husband and I have decided to join this "tradition" (enjoying the sun, not the speedo sunbathing) and found ourselves wandering through a park downtown just the other weekend.

The park was gorgeous! Everything was really starting to bloom, so the trees were lush with leaves, bulbs were starting to show their colours, and the grass was truly vibrant. The sun really highlighted the intense Spring colors that day and the fullness of the trees provided some wonderful shade for us and our fellow park-walkers. 

We had just started crossing a pedestrian bridge over a nearby busy street when we started to hear what could best be described as drunken men singing. Singing in German, of course, so we had no idea what they were saying... but the tune had me picturing several large, drunk men with pints in hand happily singing old bar songs and sloshing the beer around as they swung their glasses to and fro.

We noticed the voices were getting louder, closer.


Then...



from out of the park...



...came this:

The Bier Bike.

It was, in fact, happy drunken men singing. And drinking. And pedaling! We watched them until they had to stop at a traffic light before continuing our journey into the park.

We soon came across an area that appeared to be housing several homeless people. Odd, I thought, considering the homeless are the ones who sell extra newspapers all over downtown. But there were tents here and there with little make-shift fences surrounding them. Some tents were in a group, others were stand-alone. There were even a couple of Native-American-looking tee-pees in the mix... which added to the strangeness.

There are a few Native Americans who do musical performances in some of the squares downtown and sell CDs of their work. However, I found it highly unlikely that they would just construct tee-pees in the middle of a park to take up residence. But really, who would?! Unfortunately, that question was never answered.

We did discover the reason for the other tents, though, as we encountered some well-decorated trees.

Stylish tree.

I have no idea what this says.

Decorated tree, a tent, and a tee-pee?!

I don't read German, but I think someone named this tree and gave it a story.

The people of Stuttgart are a wee bit ticked at a recent decision to put the Hauptbahnhof (main train station) underground. They're not opposed to the idea of all the tracks going underground. They're opposed to the idea that the city government has to remove all the trees to do so!

These trees aren't just beautiful and environmentally fabulous. They're also 200 years old. In fact, one of the last kings that this area had gave his people these trees. Perhaps a more symbolic gift than anything, but it has really meant something. The project is called Stuttgart 21. The tents belonged to peaceful protesters.

Jury is still out on the tee-pees...

We continued walking until we happened upon something that would help us with the sad thought of all these beautiful trees being taken away: a Biergarten!

Because when you can't beat a sorrow, drown it!

Pretzels!

Tory got a monstrous plate of ribs.

We accidentally ordered some currywurst, which I ate.

Heffeweiss? Yes, please!

Pretty Biergarten.. thingy!

.5L of beer