I was asked again (in the local Aldi by a man who heard me speaking English with a friend) where I was from. This could possibly be one of the most complicated questions that I am asked... and for good reason. I possess an American passport and the stars and stripes claim a major place in my heart and pride. But I cannot not relate myself wholly to my birth country... not when at least six separate lands on three other continents have contributed to make me the person I am today. Maybe it is because of this reason that I hold such a place in my heart for culture and the fingers of my mind run themselves over the rough, vague characters of this word with respect. I cherish culture.
culture |ˈkəl ch ər| (n.) - the customs, arts, social institutions, and achievements of a particular nation, people, or other social group
The tower of Babel may have been a sign of the times, a destroyer of unity and the cause of untold linguistic pains in my life and others, however its division of the world began the formation of the thousands of cultures today.
Language is a culture's basic foundation and without language, a culture and the heart of a people group can never be known or understood. The arts stem from this important basis. Some of the greatest artists that the world has ever known based their masterpieces on the ordinary people and places that defined their cultures. I believe that much of the greatness that went into their paint smears and brush strokes, stone chips and calligraphy curls grew out of a knowledge and observation of the life and culture surrounding these artists. The same is true in the crafting of compositions by musical creators. Music is the most potent, intangible thing in the world with its power to go beyond mind-paths reaching straight into the heart's deepest regions. Because of this, it has been used for centuries to tell stories and evoke countless emotions, from love, to fear, to patriotism, to tears. And from experience, I have learned that a peoples' specific music speaks to them in a way that none other can.
But we are losing our specific culture structures formed by language, art, music, tradition as they are shaken by a tsunami of globalism.
We talk of this surge and we call it progress.
As the eleven year old who held an old franc in her hand, sorrowing over its passing value when the French banks officially introduced the euro, I am loath to call it a progression.
How does one define "globalism" and what exactly is "progress"? It has been a subtle process but the past twenty years have seen a lightning-fast revolution in the terms of these two words. Gone are the days of true isolation. A village farmer in China can watch American presidential debates while a rural inhabitant in Guinea Bissau makes calls to his equally modern neighbours on his cell phone. North Americans flood the aviation industry in hordes to see the world in all of its corners. Ecuadorian school children have Facebook and every country in the world is looking for English teachers. Call this progress, yet never before in the history of man have cultural lines been more blurred. I am not advocating separation and disunity. Yet I am mourning the days of border and tradition, days devoid of technology, yet full of heritage-respecting, culturally-rich life.
What I would give to walk through a dusty Spanish village and not see a Spongebob Squarepants toy resting under a thatched veranda. To get up on a misty morning in a Cambodian village without a T.V. blaring soap operas from Westernized countries, to not hear Taylor Swift, Adele and countless other pop stars in the stores of every country. I have officially given up trying not to see the yellow arches of the American gastronomic mecca... a true impossibility.
Please understand that I am of those who benefit from this era. I am not unthankful. I am able to connect with friends and family through the world-wide web, Facebook, and Skype. People living like myself used to have to be content with a letter every couple of months and the hope to see family again was almost non-existent. Globalism and "progress" are in many ways, blessings to me.
And this is not a call to ignorance, because we are a global economy. We can appreciate the music and art of other cultures world-wide and learn their languages to learn more about them and their traditions. I am passionate about this.
(As my very life exemplifies our present global culture, my husband pointed out that I am straddling the two sides. And maybe I am...!)
What I want to bring to light at this moment in time however, is the beauty of what we have in our own cultures formed by our own languages, music and arts. Culture is a real gift. A tie to history and roots to family, an anchor in a swirling sea of globalism. A country's unique history, grandparents who can share the past with those of us in the present, music made from familiar fingers and local artists who still draw from the people and stories around them, traditions built within families, old homes and recipes...
Love and appreciate where you are and who you are and where you come from. Your culture.
Disclaimer: This is a brave attempt to express some thoughts that have been on the back burner of my mind for a while. While I hope that this is well-written and communicates my mind and heart perspective, this might just be a part of an expressive progress... please keep this in mind. Thank you.
Sunday, November 11, 2012
Monday, August 20, 2012
{Sommer}
It's that time of year. The time of year when the trees begin to look tired and can't seem to carry the weight of their leaves any more. The time of year when I don't wonder why I was called a "keener" at school. (My heart aches at the very mention of the first day of school and my feet itch to be walking across a campus, arms loaded with books that are full of wordy knowledge!) The time of year when evening soccer is covered in early shadows by the setting of a sun that is in a hurry to shed its light on another part of the planet. My very favorite season of the year is making its 2012 debut soon and my thoughts are turning to wools and knits, dark, warm colors, smoky fires and rosy cheeks. (yet again, however, the weather feels the need to prove something to me... it is brilliantly hot here today in the hills of southern Germany!)
It was on the whole, a beautiful summer, full of summery things. It had ice creams, and walks, duck feedings, picnics, visitors, freckles (tons of these stunners!), hard lessons, good lessons, star-gazing and adventures. We made it through a bad eye infection on my part that lasted for several weeks in early July. Peter got accepted to his new job around the same time and went to England twice for training. He will begin his language course within a couple of weeks. I began my German language/integration course and have made new friends in the process. I also was able to be a tent leader at a regional camp of 250 teenagers and made many new acquaintances there. I received my residence card for the EU in all its laminated glory and was accepted into the Midwifery College of Utah to begin my studies there the beginning September. All this and so much more, packed into the past, sunny months.
We have a Provider and he is good.
It was on the whole, a beautiful summer, full of summery things. It had ice creams, and walks, duck feedings, picnics, visitors, freckles (tons of these stunners!), hard lessons, good lessons, star-gazing and adventures. We made it through a bad eye infection on my part that lasted for several weeks in early July. Peter got accepted to his new job around the same time and went to England twice for training. He will begin his language course within a couple of weeks. I began my German language/integration course and have made new friends in the process. I also was able to be a tent leader at a regional camp of 250 teenagers and made many new acquaintances there. I received my residence card for the EU in all its laminated glory and was accepted into the Midwifery College of Utah to begin my studies there the beginning September. All this and so much more, packed into the past, sunny months.
We have a Provider and he is good.
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| Happy 4th |
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| Our lives in a snapshot |
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| Summer stars |
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| Tent 8 at camp with the crazy American on the far right |
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| Peter and the castle at Heidelberg |
"Alles hat ein Ende nur die Wurst hat zwei -
Everything has an end... only sausages have
two." - old German saying
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
{The Dutch in 9}
So, at long last, (life and its many adventures got in the way!) we have 'The Dutch in 9'. Why the number nine? I am not too sure, if only to keep it as concise and practical as the people of this country we are featuring.
You can call it "the Netherlands" or "Holland", this land that has occupied fairy-tale status in the minds of North Americans for so long. (Thanks to the good literary help of "Hans Brinker", "The Wheel on the School" and "The Boy and the Dike"... but more on that later!) However, "The Netherlands" is the official name of the country, whereas "Holland" is actually a province. You won't get into too much trouble by using either/or, but you will be more correct if you apply the country's proper name.
I was... but only for a time.
Please keep in mind as you read the 9, that this is a very, very small glimpse into a diverse culture and a country that although the size of Maryland, USA, packs more traditions and dialects in its pinky finger than some cultures hold in their hand. Here we gooooo...
{The Dutch in 9}
It's good... and it's expected. It is not as punctual as the British tea, nor as filling as the German kuchen, but it satisfies and is a tradition that spans the generations. It is hospitality at its finest and coffee at its best. It is usually offered promptly upon your entrance to a Dutch dwelling and it is part of the Dutch agenda. Koffie tijd is sacred to stroop wafels and cookies, and other delectable bits. It is a tradition that can be applied to strangers and distant acquaintances (with the addition of the famous Dutch weather conversation), or to a cosy gathering of friends and the talk can turn to work and school. The best of the Dutch hostesses will keep your cup full and the cookie tin forever in your reach... the worst, well... this is where the legendary Dutch frugality rears its ugly head and you are the worse for it. However, no matter the time, day, or people, koffie tijd just requires good coffee, mugs, a tea box, clear mugs for tea, a tea bag holder, small spoons, sugar pot, milk jug, cookie tin, stroop wafels, and most importantly, hospitality. It's as simple as that.
Many of you may be asking why vakantie would be included on this "inclusive" list... but you wouldn't be asking why if your very life was centric upon this word. While you enjoy a koffie tijd (the mini, daily form of vakantie) it is not uncommon to discuss vacationing plans with your fellow-coffee drinkers. This annual (or bi-annual) occurrence plays a large role in the year of the working Dutchman. To live without a vacation is culturally unsound! With an average of 25 vacation days per year (with many people possessing 30 or more) and a special part of the salary going towards this relaxation and rest, it is safe to say that this is an important part of the culture. Come summer-time, the roads of Europe flood with yellow license plates and campers and every camp-ground gets to hear the mother-tongue spoken over a morning cup of coffee and a bakery bun.
Young babes are fed it as part of their first solid food regimen. It is often what is for breakfast and lunch. My husband even goes so far (resting solidly in his Dutch education) as to express firm belief in its health benefits. Because of its popularity and in its proper place as a staple in the Dutch diet, there are whole shelves in the supermarket devoted to its toppings. Hagelslag comes in ten different varieties and there are a plethora of spreads that are so delicious that you wonder why the Dutch aren't wider than they are! (but we'll deal with that next...) Creativity also plays a role as cookies, different breads, vegetables, fruits and other (sometimes terrifying!) combos are placed upon this baked wonder. Eetsmaakelijk!
The Flat-lands were made for biking with their level grounds and the towns in close proximity. It would seem that it is the bikers that rule this land. With the traffic laws (and personal, unspoken ones!) giving rights and privileges to the biker, a perfect, cheap and healthy wheel-world has been created. (I would like to take this moment to say, however, that the biking Amsterdammers need to take it a bit easier on the pedestrian population! Perhaps?) It is not uncommon for a Dutch child to bike 15 km both ways to school. Not surprisingly, the Dutch don't have many problems with child obesity because as fast as the children eat their bread and toppings, they burn off it all off on the beautiful bike paths of their homeland. It is the main form of transportation for many people. The government also gives rewards to those who take the bike to work. This robust tradition has produced a nation of healthy, tall people with keen biking-know-how and extraordinary calves.
One can't help mentioning this Dutch speciality when every household owns a deep-fryer. Again, it is my firm belief that the saving grace of this nation's waist-lines are their bike paths and inherited love of sport. Patat, krokketten, balletje mayo and a wealth of other fried delicacies are served primarily with mayo, and curry, ketchup and peanut sauce are optional choices. Kibbeling, battered fried fish, was our Saturday lunch of choice with its perfect side of creamy garlic dip. However it is the olliebollen that win the fryer its true place in the home with their hot, golden balls that float to the oily surface every New Years. Sprinkle some poeder suiker on that!
1. Koffie Tijd (Coffee Time):
It's good... and it's expected. It is not as punctual as the British tea, nor as filling as the German kuchen, but it satisfies and is a tradition that spans the generations. It is hospitality at its finest and coffee at its best. It is usually offered promptly upon your entrance to a Dutch dwelling and it is part of the Dutch agenda. Koffie tijd is sacred to stroop wafels and cookies, and other delectable bits. It is a tradition that can be applied to strangers and distant acquaintances (with the addition of the famous Dutch weather conversation), or to a cosy gathering of friends and the talk can turn to work and school. The best of the Dutch hostesses will keep your cup full and the cookie tin forever in your reach... the worst, well... this is where the legendary Dutch frugality rears its ugly head and you are the worse for it. However, no matter the time, day, or people, koffie tijd just requires good coffee, mugs, a tea box, clear mugs for tea, a tea bag holder, small spoons, sugar pot, milk jug, cookie tin, stroop wafels, and most importantly, hospitality. It's as simple as that.
2. Vakantie (Vacation):
Many of you may be asking why vakantie would be included on this "inclusive" list... but you wouldn't be asking why if your very life was centric upon this word. While you enjoy a koffie tijd (the mini, daily form of vakantie) it is not uncommon to discuss vacationing plans with your fellow-coffee drinkers. This annual (or bi-annual) occurrence plays a large role in the year of the working Dutchman. To live without a vacation is culturally unsound! With an average of 25 vacation days per year (with many people possessing 30 or more) and a special part of the salary going towards this relaxation and rest, it is safe to say that this is an important part of the culture. Come summer-time, the roads of Europe flood with yellow license plates and campers and every camp-ground gets to hear the mother-tongue spoken over a morning cup of coffee and a bakery bun.
3. Brood (Bread):
Young babes are fed it as part of their first solid food regimen. It is often what is for breakfast and lunch. My husband even goes so far (resting solidly in his Dutch education) as to express firm belief in its health benefits. Because of its popularity and in its proper place as a staple in the Dutch diet, there are whole shelves in the supermarket devoted to its toppings. Hagelslag comes in ten different varieties and there are a plethora of spreads that are so delicious that you wonder why the Dutch aren't wider than they are! (but we'll deal with that next...) Creativity also plays a role as cookies, different breads, vegetables, fruits and other (sometimes terrifying!) combos are placed upon this baked wonder. Eetsmaakelijk!
4. Fiets (Bicycles):
The Flat-lands were made for biking with their level grounds and the towns in close proximity. It would seem that it is the bikers that rule this land. With the traffic laws (and personal, unspoken ones!) giving rights and privileges to the biker, a perfect, cheap and healthy wheel-world has been created. (I would like to take this moment to say, however, that the biking Amsterdammers need to take it a bit easier on the pedestrian population! Perhaps?) It is not uncommon for a Dutch child to bike 15 km both ways to school. Not surprisingly, the Dutch don't have many problems with child obesity because as fast as the children eat their bread and toppings, they burn off it all off on the beautiful bike paths of their homeland. It is the main form of transportation for many people. The government also gives rewards to those who take the bike to work. This robust tradition has produced a nation of healthy, tall people with keen biking-know-how and extraordinary calves.
5. Schaatsen (Ice skating):
Aside from biking, the Dutch are a very sportive nation and take pride in their korfball medals, soccer players and so many other areas where they exceed and succeed. But I have never seen a Dutchman's chest (or woman's for that matter!) puff out so much in honest pride as when the word "ice" is mentioned. Strange, for a temperate land that rarely sees the minus mark on the thermostat! However, it is a wonder to behold the ownership the Dutch place upon this winter occurrence and the winter sport that accompanies it. The delight that beams from this nation in a time of frozen temperatures could almost melt the very ice that they treasure so! Hordes of Hollanders flock to the skating rinks of their rivers and canals and here on the long, long stretches of water, often created by their own hands, champion skaters are born and bred. The beloved Elfstedentocht, a beautiful, traditional race of 200 km going through eleven Frisian cities, has only occurred fifteen times in the last 100 years because of the rarity of perfect ice. However, despite the sea climate that shortens the life-span of Holland's ice-ways, by the time a Dutch child is three, the steadying chair can be taken away from in front and they are off with the best of them.
6. Water:
The Netherlands (the low-lands) is called that for a reason and because of this, the Dutch have a strong relationship with water, for better or worse. They are famous for it! They have a world-wide reputation (aside from some other unflattering ones!) for their manipulation and management of the sea. The country's lowest point below sea-level is 7 m. (23 ft.) Take a drive through Flevoland and your car is on land that used to be covered by salty waves not too terribly long ago. Dikes border sea-side towns with sheep grazing on their grassy hills. Those who live in the homes along the dikes faithfully trust in the strength and ingenuity that has kept the sea from its territory for generations now. In many ways, water is what has made the Netherlands what it is today. Even the many dialects of its twelve provinces owe some of their diversity to water. Islands that used to be, are no more and their cultures that used to be separate from each other, are now joined by land.
7. Sinterklaas:
All I can say, is that if you aren't a Dutch child on the 5th December, you are missing out! This is the time when the famous Sinterklaas, (the Dutch equivalent of Father Christmas and Santa) and his faithful helper Zwarte Piet make their rounds. If you're a good child, be prepared to find your shoe full of goodness and perhaps some other presents will find their way into your hand. But as tradition has it, the naughty ones are taken off to Spain and then who knows what! It is a time of the year devoted to pepernoten, speculaas, and other Dutch sweets that only make their appearance with the Sint. Everyone knows the Sinterklaas liedjes and adults and children alike sing them out to welcome everyone's favourite person. If you are lucky enough, you will get to see him as he gets off his boat and mounts his white horse on Dutch soil. The whole tradition has an air of old-world excitement that is refreshing and is hard to find in today's over-stimulated society. I think the Sint and his black helpers would do everyone a bit of good, the world over!
8. Gefrituurd (Fried foods):
One can't help mentioning this Dutch speciality when every household owns a deep-fryer. Again, it is my firm belief that the saving grace of this nation's waist-lines are their bike paths and inherited love of sport. Patat, krokketten, balletje mayo and a wealth of other fried delicacies are served primarily with mayo, and curry, ketchup and peanut sauce are optional choices. Kibbeling, battered fried fish, was our Saturday lunch of choice with its perfect side of creamy garlic dip. However it is the olliebollen that win the fryer its true place in the home with their hot, golden balls that float to the oily surface every New Years. Sprinkle some poeder suiker on that!
9. Gezelligheid:
There is no translation for this all-encompassing word: gezellig.Yes, it could mean cosy or pleasant and imply community and friendship... but it goes much deeper than that. It is strange that one word bottles in eight letters the attitude of a country and the aim of its people. It covers koffie tijden, vakanties, Sinterklaas and more. The only thing that I can say is that it has to be experienced to be understood.
*****
Thank you for joining along, patient reader. This is meant to be a recognition and tribute to a little country that was home for a time but means all the more to me because it birthed and bred the dearest person in my life. Someday (hopefully!), when we have our own little Dutch people running around in our home, I look forward to sharing with them and learning with them more about one of their homelands, its people and history.
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| Heading home from the store... |
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| Amsterdam |
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| Tasting the fried delights of the Febo |
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| An Elburg pasture |
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| The Dutch flag in tulips |
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| The Afsluitdijk: a 20 km road across the Ijselmeer |
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| A lone skater on the Veluwemeer |
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| The Red Tower in Maastricht |
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| Tourists meeting the Sint for the first time |
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| Sunset in Amsterdam |
Monday, June 4, 2012
Contentment
Paul, the apostle, once said, " I have learned in every situation, to be content."
I clearly remember striving for contentment, the summer following my first year of college. Contentment that is, that elusive satisfaction found in true, holistic thankfulness. I wanted to be rid of my restlessness.
One morning, with sea breezes combing my curls and my pen and journal in hand, I realized that I had obtained it! Joy! I, at the tender age of 20, had reached a peace as to my lot in life and what Paul had said didn't seem to be so terribly hard after all.
However, after I enjoyed its presence for a week or so, it disappeared to my great consternation and discouragement. And then it returned... only to yet again, vanish! After this strange contentment tide cycle had washed the confused shores of my mind several times, I turned frustratedly to my mother, a wise woman who has learned to read all the words, not just those that seem applicable.
"I was content!" I bleated into the phone. "And Paul said it was learnable." "Yes, sweetie, but he said in every situation. Do you really think he conquered his dissatisfaction, frustrations and restlessness in one moment of time?" *thoughtful silence* "No... I guess not." "Well then, how many situations did he go through, learning the same lesson each time?"
Then I saw why it is the challenge that it is. The choice in every circumstance. And so, we go on...
We are really blessed here as we wake up each morning, looking out on the spire of Untermuenkheim's church in our little scoop of German village cuddled among the hills of forest and farmland. We cannot get over the beauty of the nature around us. A twelve kilometer, Day of Pentecost hike showed us even more of this land's beauty. But as usual, little things come around that challenge our gratitude... more specifically, my gratitude. For instance, a couch... now that is small! Yet when we received a sofa (after living for a couple of weeks sitting in the bedroom and in the kitchen) only to find that it had been previously owned by a smoker and had inherited cigarette fumes, I was challenged. Oh, Paul, how much I have to learn! It was not persecution or sickness or death. It was a couch. (albeit one that graciously shared its stink.) The long and short of the story is that we had to ditch it after a long sun bath and liberal sprinklings of coffee grounds, vinegar and baking soda. We were without a couch again. Yet, its absence put us to mind of all the people in the world who go without so much more and we found contentment for what we do possess. We have so much. You can be happy without a couch, world! Now, however, thanks to the kindness of our sweet landlords, a neighborhood wide request was made and now we have a low settee that we can sit ourselves upon. How much more we appreciate sitting in the living room, after the absence of that luxury!
I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. Phil. 4:12 NIV
Beyond couches and hikes, we are enjoying our new life here. Some semblance of routine is forming and it is a delightful feeling. We are hoping now to find opportunities to meet more people and form new connections.
However, as we return to the Netherlands for a friend's wedding this coming weekend, we are reminded again of the flat-lands. And on that theme we would like to introduce the topic of our next post: The Dutch in Nine
It will be a celebration of and a closer look at the country that birthed the most amazing man that a girl could ask for! Until then, tot ziens... Auf Wiedersehen!
I clearly remember striving for contentment, the summer following my first year of college. Contentment that is, that elusive satisfaction found in true, holistic thankfulness. I wanted to be rid of my restlessness.
One morning, with sea breezes combing my curls and my pen and journal in hand, I realized that I had obtained it! Joy! I, at the tender age of 20, had reached a peace as to my lot in life and what Paul had said didn't seem to be so terribly hard after all.
However, after I enjoyed its presence for a week or so, it disappeared to my great consternation and discouragement. And then it returned... only to yet again, vanish! After this strange contentment tide cycle had washed the confused shores of my mind several times, I turned frustratedly to my mother, a wise woman who has learned to read all the words, not just those that seem applicable.
"I was content!" I bleated into the phone. "And Paul said it was learnable." "Yes, sweetie, but he said in every situation. Do you really think he conquered his dissatisfaction, frustrations and restlessness in one moment of time?" *thoughtful silence* "No... I guess not." "Well then, how many situations did he go through, learning the same lesson each time?"
Then I saw why it is the challenge that it is. The choice in every circumstance. And so, we go on...
We are really blessed here as we wake up each morning, looking out on the spire of Untermuenkheim's church in our little scoop of German village cuddled among the hills of forest and farmland. We cannot get over the beauty of the nature around us. A twelve kilometer, Day of Pentecost hike showed us even more of this land's beauty. But as usual, little things come around that challenge our gratitude... more specifically, my gratitude. For instance, a couch... now that is small! Yet when we received a sofa (after living for a couple of weeks sitting in the bedroom and in the kitchen) only to find that it had been previously owned by a smoker and had inherited cigarette fumes, I was challenged. Oh, Paul, how much I have to learn! It was not persecution or sickness or death. It was a couch. (albeit one that graciously shared its stink.) The long and short of the story is that we had to ditch it after a long sun bath and liberal sprinklings of coffee grounds, vinegar and baking soda. We were without a couch again. Yet, its absence put us to mind of all the people in the world who go without so much more and we found contentment for what we do possess. We have so much. You can be happy without a couch, world! Now, however, thanks to the kindness of our sweet landlords, a neighborhood wide request was made and now we have a low settee that we can sit ourselves upon. How much more we appreciate sitting in the living room, after the absence of that luxury!
I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. Phil. 4:12 NIV
Beyond couches and hikes, we are enjoying our new life here. Some semblance of routine is forming and it is a delightful feeling. We are hoping now to find opportunities to meet more people and form new connections.
However, as we return to the Netherlands for a friend's wedding this coming weekend, we are reminded again of the flat-lands. And on that theme we would like to introduce the topic of our next post: The Dutch in Nine
It will be a celebration of and a closer look at the country that birthed the most amazing man that a girl could ask for! Until then, tot ziens... Auf Wiedersehen!
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| A nesting stork |
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| St. Bavo's: Haarlem |
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| Amsterdam Centraal by moonlight |
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| The cows of Holland |
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| Boats' masts in the port of Elburg |
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| Amsterdam |
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| Summer-time canal |
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| Old-fashioned power |
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| A sloot at sunrise |
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| Sinterklaas comes into harbor |
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| The best of Holland (on the left-hand side!) |
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Germany
A bit of time has passed between our time amongst the tulips and wind-blown packing preparations to our new life here in Germany. This past week marked a full month for us here in the land of wurst and pretzels. We made it with the help of caring friends, kind hosts and the grace of God.
Peter is now working for our friend in his landscaping business, and is doing splendidly. I am more than half-way there with my immigration process and hope to find a job within the near future. German is arising from amongst the shambles of the English, French and Dutch languages that lie drooping in my brain, while Peter with the help of his Germanic background, is the main communicator in the family.
Regularity and rhythm are slowly, but surely returning to our lives and with it, consistent and loving updates. We shall let some pictures convey a bit of the past few weeks and show you a wee peep into our new home-land.
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| A farm house in Ubrigshausen, the town of our Mogler friends |
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| The May-pole of Ubrigshausen |
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| Tradition meets "auslaender" (foreigner) at the Cheese Market |
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| Alpine horn concert |
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| German cheeses |
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| The Frinsels in the ruins of Limpurg, an old fortress |
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| The walk-way to our new, little place |
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| An afternoon in Schwaebisch Hall |
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| A doorway at the Comburg monastery |
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| Italian ices with Joey and Kristyn |
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| The view from Waldenburg |
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| The Comburg monastery, as viewed from Limpurg |
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| A Spring sunset |
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| Untermuenkheim, our new home |
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| A bike-ride adventure with Kristyn |
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| Peter und Sarah |
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