Goodbye, Little Ones

Saying goodbye is really no fun at all. Especially when it is sweet little ones you're watching walk out your door. I know, I know--we've made a difference, there will be more students, they'll visit. I try to stay strong. I bite my lip, make jokes, think about something--anything else in an unsuccessful attempt to take my mind off of the hole in my heart that comes hand-in-hand with the end of the school year. Regardless of my stone-cold effort and waterproof mascara, hugging my students good bye always brings on a teary, mascara-covered face. One would think I would get better at this kind of thing but nope, it still happens. Always.

Of course, the kiddos have no idea about my emotional state. They wave good bye with a skip, smile, and wave while I stand at the door watching them go whilst clutching a box of tissues. Maybe next year I'll be better. (I joke, I joke.)While all this teary mess could easily be summarized into a very compelling argument for me pursuing a less emotional career path, that is as likely as me not crying on next year's last day of school.

You couldn't drag me away from this work.

 

Today we said good bye to Rachael, the co-owner of Seedlings and my dear, dear friend. She created Seedlings so that her daughter would have the opportunity to attend an English-speaking preschool. Soon her family will return to Brooklyn. Seedlings will go on, but it certainly won't be the same without her. 

When will these good byes end?! This is torture.

Not that a caption is needed, of course, but for those of you who haven't seen me in awhile--this is me. Aside from the yarn hair I'd say her interpretation was spot-on.

As much as I'm sad, I'm equally grateful to have been a part of Seedlings' first year. This small, cozy business has served kids and families well. So well, that we mos def deserve this five free weeks we have coming to us. Something about the phrase, "School's out for summer" never gets old.

Lüneberg

About 45km southeast of Hamburg lies Lüneberg, a cute-as-can-be town that is home to 75,000 lucky folks. Holger asked us to choose a day trip spot 50km or less from Hamburg to visit. We chose Lüneberg and were instantly happy with the choice. The town couldn't be sweeter.

Nope, it's not a ghost town. This is just how Germany looks on Sundays. 

Lüneberg is smaallll--you can walk around it's square-shaped map in less than an hour. The city is as perfectly kept as it is small; the building facades are in tip-top shape and each one is different from its neighbor.  The eye-appeal is great for me and less-than-great for my travel partners because it meant they had to slow their pace to turtle-speed to manage my endless photo-taking activity. They were great sports. 

Luneberg's Rathaus, or Town Hall 

I've now deemed Lüneberg the 'pretty door capital of northern Germany.' 

Just trust me, I'm sure you'll agree...

What? You can't tell this is a pharmacy? 

The Church of Luneberg

There. I think I got them all. 

Our short trip to lovely Lüneberg was proof that though just about everything shuts down for the day, Sundays can absolutely be fun-days. 

Year 1: Done

I remember every detail of the conversation Reggie and I had when he asked me to move abroad with him. I remember each thought that went through my head as he described over the phone the awesome opportunity he was considering. In our short five months together we had had a ball and both of us had expressed that we had high hopes for our relationship--the highest, Reggie would say. Then, on a phone conversation connecting us while we were on opposite sides of the country, chance abruptly changed things. I listened cautiously to Reggie as he slowly described the secondment opportunity that was standing in front of him. He's going to go and Ill miss him forever, was just one of the thoughts flying around my mind. I sat still, on my grandparents lawn, holding the phone to my ear but thinking too loudly to hear Reggie's words. Then I heard something I wasn't expecting. "...if you'll go with me." I must have been imagining that. "I'm sorry, what?" "What do you think about moving to Hamburg, Germany for two years? I'll apply if you'll go with me."

It felt light years between his words and mine. In real time I didn't wait even a millisecond to respond.

"I'd love to."

So then we waited. While we waited we eagerly worked to gain support from our friends and fam, which in turn gave us the opportunity to realize how fortunate we are to be a part of the circles we're a part of. Then, seven months after that extraordinary conversation on my grandparents lawn, we got the green light. We were in.

We had four months to arrange, plan, freak out, stay calm, and, of course, plan a going-away party. Soon after that we waved good bye and ten hours later we lived in Germany. That year was a fast one.

And so was this one.

In the early months after our arrival we were often asked how long we'd been living in Hamburg. "One week, one month, oh a few months now." Then life picked up. We found a circle, we began exploring the continent, and I stopped carrying my camera with me at all times. We weren't tourists anymore. This isn't to say that our wanderlust has diminished, but several months into the adventure Hamburg began to feel like a home.


At a recent American Women's Club event for new and potential members I was surprised to hear myself tell the group of eager women that I've lived here nearly one year. I remembered feeling new, naive, and relentlessly eager. It has been some time since I felt new so I had to slow myself down to recapture that feeling. Serenity is the feeling that is most present in my heart now. This inner calmness, like so many things, came with a hefty price tag which took me nearly a lifetime to pay off. But it was well worth the extra work.

My attempt to catalog the ardent journey that has brought me to this place of supreme satisfaction will undoubtedly fall short. Nevertheless, I will tell the story of our first year through my favorite photos.  



Moving to a foreign country where you know no one provides for a crash course in "getting to know your mate." Reggie and I have accepted the challenge and have had a ball seeing the world together. I am lucky to have such a great travel partner; he sees the world with an open mind and is always up for seeing something new. Plus, he can always figure out the metro systems before I can. 

La Catedral, Palma de Mallorca, Mallorca, Spain

Sure, meeting new people is easy. But turning those unfamiliar faces into friendships isn't always so easy. Luckily, I am surrounded by kind, warm, and open-minded people and we have a lot of fun together.

With Rachael and Grit at Seedlings

With Kate, Mary, and Abbey 

Reggie's co-workers: Claudia, Holger, Annika, and Carolin

Mark, Mary, Nic, and Kate in Lisbon, Portugal 

Clearly, I'm pretty ecstatic that we made the move over here. I can now say that I am equally ecstatic that I accepted a position at my beloved Seedlings. The fears I had that preschool wasn't exactly going to be the right fit for me disappeared as soon as I recognized how cute three-year olds are and I have never looked back. I recently signed on for my second year with our darling little center and I can't wait to get started. My work there, along with lots of great private teaching clients, has given me plenty of that one-to-one teaching time that is so fulfilling. It's also proven time and time again that kids are the same all over the world--a truth that is as refreshing as it is surprising. 

When Reggie initially mentioned Hamburg as our potential new home I tried to wrack my brain for anything I may have known about the city. When I couldn't come up with anything, I tried to remember ever hearing about the city. "Well, I THINK I've heard of it." 


I went to Hamburg expecting lederhosen, singing, and pretzels. Though I can find lederhosen at the local TK Maxx and pretzels are always available at the bakery, Hamburg's metropolitan glow is not at all what I had expected to find when I first decided to move to Germany. Though there are less than two million people here, Hamburg has oodles of fun things to do, see, and my favorite--to take pictures of.  

Hafen City, Hamburg

The Alster, Hamburg

The Binnen Alster, Old Town, Hamburg

Blankenese, Hamburg

While it's the daily theme of adventure that I appreciate most about our time abroad, the traveling is pretty great, too. We are incredibly fortunate to have visited the many great places we have and I am humbled each time I step off a plane in a new spot. 

Our first trip was a weekend trip to Berlin. This first trip stands out in my mind more than most because it was a great kick-off to our traveling adventure.

My solo trip to the sleepy Rhine Region of Germany was proof that I could manage a day out on my own--in German. From this experience I became confident in my travel skills and as a result my "to go" list grew like a weed.  

There are some amazingly gorgeous landmarks in Europe. We have been lucky to see a handful of them.

The Berlin Cathedral, Berlin, Germany

Astronomical Clock, Old Town, Prague 

The Acropolis, Athens, Greece

...and London as a whole. In July we will visit Paris with Reggie's family. Although I have an open mind, if I were a betting gal I would bet that London will still stand strong as my favorite city in the world even after touring the home of the Eiffel Tower. 

Early on in our travels we realized it was really hard to decided what souvenirs to bring home. Pictures are great, but it's really difficult to not buy ANYTHING. So, we chose three things to buy from each place: Reggie buys beverage glasses, I buy (handcrafted when possible) mugs, and together we choose a piece of art. So far, it's worked out well and we have a lot of fun shopping for our precious materialistic items. 

I found the Carpe Diem mug in a teensy shop in Lacock Village, England. It was handmade by the seller's sister just outside of the town. The mug on the right was handmade in Slovakia and sold in Prague.

Clearly, the kitschy Harrod's of London mug isn't handmade but it was so cute I didn't even care. The "kitten drinking milk" mug (yep, that's a cute little kitten hanging over the side) was made by a Hamburg artist. 

Left: made in Oxford, England and bought in Bath, this cute pattern was all over the place. Center: made in the Peloponnesian Peninsula and sold in Athens. Right: made and sold in Barcelona.

Last but absolutely not least because it's so darn perfect: this beauty was made just outside of Budapest and sold in a great art shop in the city. 

These babies are starting to fill up our book shelf and I let them. I'll gladly buy a second book shelf before I stop buying pretty mugs. 






And finally, I can't close a highlight-themed post without mentioning my blog. I never imagined keeping a blog would be such a cool and effective way to share our story and thanks to all of you it has been the perfect way to stay connected. Many thanks for keeping up with us and please know your support is deeply appreciated. You are always in our hearts. 


Now, bring on year 2. 

Budapest

When I was 13 I had a great friend named Jared. We would spend hours on the phone night after night talking about everything from our tweenage crushes to Bryan Adams' new CD. You would think that after all that time over the phone I would know his voice well enough to not be taken by his frequent prank calls, yet somehow that wasn't the case. Despite my naivety, Jared and I would have heart-to-hearts that were about as deep as a pair of 13-year olds can produce. Time after time, he would remind me that I was a very deep thinker for my age, which, of course, was absolutely true. I remember the first time he said, 'Gosh you're deep.' The truth of it caught me by surprise and as a result has stuck with me. In all my deep thinking I had never stopped to think that it was anything different from any other middle-schooler. He meant no criticism, he was simply stating the obvious. And, of course, he was absolutely right. 


I think of Jared's comment every time I catch myself lost in thought instead of enjoying the moment. There you go being deep again.


Recently Reggie and I had the extraordinary opportunity to visit Budapest, Hungary. Halfway into our trip we went to a pub to meet friends of a friend to watch the Champions' League Final soccer match. Because Budapest is in Europe and all European countries love themselves some soccer the place was P-A-C-K-E-D. This is nothing new for us and we loved it. Standing at the bar with Reggie, intermittently being pushed and shoved by Hungarians, Brits, and everything in between, and desperately trying to catch the waitress' attention to no avail, I caught myself tuning out of real time and being deep. Again.

Budapest is the most recent on the list of great cities I have visited since this unequivocal adventure started. Prior to this I spent years collecting travel books and maps awaiting my chance to see the world. This year the opportunity presented itself and for that I couldn't possibly be more grateful. The fact that this adventure is a rare one is not lost on me. And so, standing with Reg in a crowded pub in Budapest, I caught myself smiling for reasons only clear to me (and my deep, deep self).


Until now Budapest seemed light years away, an Eastern European city I knew I'd fall in love with but never expected to get to. This sense of satisfaction, mixed in with my natural sense of bottomless depth, brought on a rush of serenity that somehow sang louder than the Barcelona supporters when Messi and his teammates began their domination of Manchester United. I cheered with them, but not because Barcelona was blowing MU away, but instead because life feels really good these days. It doesn't even take me digging below surface level to recognize that.


Beauty-pest served us well. Our friend Ingo served as our travel partner and tour guide as we gawked our way through Buda, Pest, and the darling Danube River that divides them.

Hilly Buda on the left, metropolitan Pest on the right, and the purdy Danube River in the middle

Until 1873 Buda and Pest were two separate cities divided both by geography and personality differences. Though they are now united courtesy of a handful of pretty bridges, the two halves of Budapest are completely different.


We started with Buda:

Buda is antiquated, hilly, green, and bold. It is dominated by Castle Hill, the city's highest-profile tourist zone. Castle Hill is a historic chunk of land looming above the bank of the Danube. On the breather breaks we took on our hike to the top, we caught some great views: 

The Royal Palace dominates Castle Hill. It houses the Hungarian National Gallery and the Budapest History Museum.

The walk from the Royal Palace to the other sites in Buda provided for lots of ooohing and ahhing opps.

A short, 90-degree-walk-that-felt-really-long later, we came upon this beauty:

The current Matthias Church is a ornate rebuild of the 800-year old original. It's lovely orange roof is unlike any I have seen and gives this beauty its striking splendor.


Next to Matthias Church is the Fisherman's Bastion, or Halaszbastya in Hungarian. (I went to and left Budapest without knowing a single Hungarian word, and words like this are the reason why.) The Bastion offers beautiful views over the Danube to Pest.

After we strolled and sweated our way through Buda, we headed over to purdy Pest. Our first stop was the Hungarian Parliament Building. This spiky thing looks just like London Parliament's little brother and it kind of is--it was designed by an architect that did his schooling in London. As much as I am absolutely obsessed with London, it would be a lie not to say that the Hungarian Parliament building is more than just slightly cooler.

Next up was Great Hall Market, a monsterous indoor flea and farmer's marketplace. Goose liver, golden Tokaji Aszu Wine, and kitchy Communism tees are among the M-A-N-Y goods for purchase. As I always do when there's a market to visit, I bee-lined my way to Great Hall Market with my biggest purse.

The quintessential ingredient in Hungarian cooking, hot-ish bell peppers were everywhere.

After two historic sites we were ready for a break. Though now rare, grandeur cafes are a big part of Hungarian history. In the late 19th century, a vibrant cafe culture erupted in Budapest, as it did in Vienna and Paris. Coffee houses became an institution--people unable to afford heating in their homes during the day or those just looking to escape their tiny flats spent their days in these comfortable coffee houses. For nothing more than the price of a coffee, folks could enjoy fancy leather seating, loaner newspapers, and the company of their friends. The Communists became wary of all of this socialization and shut down the cafes or converted them into less comfortable hang outs. Nostalgia has recently brought back these super fun coffee houses, and luckily we were able to take part in the fun.


Our guidebook suggested Central Coffee House, and we are glad it did. So glad that we even went twice.

Central is as grand as it is famous, with ridiculously inventive and scrumptious eats and drinks to boot. Located across the street from the university library, Central offers modern choices that I wouldn't have expected from the look of the interiors. Here I had my most memorable coffee experience to date. After a very, very long deliberation I finally decided on a coffee with local honey, milk, and cinnamon. When it arrived it was even prettier than I had dreamt it would be.

The bottom layer is local honey, followed by a layer of local milk, then the best bio decaf coffee on the planet, and finally froth covered with cinnamon. Hellooo, heavenly coffee!

On multiple occasions I heard waiters tell guests that Central's pastries are Pest's best.  After seeing these I'm pretty sure he wasn't being arrogant and was just stating the facts.

This spinach salad knocked the wind out of any other spinach salad I have had before. Plain and simple. 

 I had never seen a ceramic fry-sleeve. Impressive. 

When we had tackled the big touristy sites we were ready for relaxation. Like Baden Baden in Germany and Bath in England, Budapest sits on a thin layer of earth above thermal springs that power its many thermal baths. Because we never turn down a good bath, we headed to Szechenyi Baths to soak with the locals awhile. 

Szechenyi boasts two outdoor and at least five indoor pools. Unlike the other baths we've visited, this one felt like the neighborhood swimming hole, only a heck of a lot fancier. The 100-degree water came with a 20-minute advisory that we neglected completely. When we stepped out into the rain-cooled air it was a good hour before I felt anything but boiling inside. Now THAT's the way to relax. 








All that relaxation brought on a monster appetite, so we arranged to have dinner at Sir Lancelot, a medieval restaurant catering to large groups of people looking for comedic peasants and knights and an unusually social fire eater. Not sure if this was us, I tried to keep an open mind and, of course, loved it. 

You never know what you're going to get when you order from a country other than your own--even when the menu is in English. This menu, in old English, was not quite as confusing as one in Hungarian, but close. I was pleasantly surprised with my feast of apples, cucumber, and walnuts cooked in honey, with potato dumplings and a strangely large amount of fresh fruit. The verdict: really unusual and really delicious.

Reg had baked chicken with smashed potatoes and awesome BBQ sauce...and, oddly enough, fruit.

In case we wanted to smoke, the largest ashtray in history was on our table ready and waiting.  

According to Sir Lancelot himself only cheaters use silverware, and we were cheaters. Something about sticking my hands into honey-soaked fruit at the dinner table was too far out of my norm. Next time, Sir Lancelot, I'll do it your way. Promise. 








In any city we visit we attempt to see all of the 1,000 Places to See Before You Die mentions. I also seek out the city's best dark chocolate to bring home. This time, I really lucked out. One of Budpest's mentions was Gerbeaud, referred to by Patricia Schultz as, "...a temple of delectables." Yep, she's right. This gorgeous coffee house and confisserie certainly deserved the mention...and their dark chocolate should have, too.  

It doesn't take a philosopher such as myself to enjoy the heck out of Budapest. It's beauty supplies a shock factor that will appeal to anyone lucky enough to witness it. For me, though, enjoying city as far off the normal tourist track as this great place offered the chance to be overly reflective, which in turn became a reminder of how great life can be. 

Budapest's famous Chain Bridge connects Buda and Pest. 

The handmade wares were exceptional. This lovely dish was crafted just outside of Budapest by an art school student.

Sheesh. And I thought German was tough!