So if you've been reading my blog or catching up on all the old stories, you recall that we lived in this large home in Germany at the time because my husband was stationed in Mannheim for the greatest 3 years of our lives. And, his parents were visiting us very shortly after my first surgery for Kienbock's. You may also recall that I took very few drugs to help with the pain - largely in part because I hate medicine, but also largely in part because I didn't need it. It did nothing to stop the pain.
I do recall a particular evening just before Christmas. We had spent part of the afternoon walking through our village, and up the mountainside to where the vineyards were so J&S could see the spectacular view we had of the Rhein-Neckar valley. Seriously, spectacular. We could see miles out on good days, and every day we could see Mannheim which was 12 kilometers away. It was a little cloudy, and it had been snowing. We took the dog with us, all bundled up in his sweater. But, he finally started shivering after an hour or so, so we trekked back down and decided to go to the church next door to our home.
To be honest, we had never been inside the church. Mostly, because there was always something going on. Concerts, weddings, funerals, services, it was like a convention center for our village. Anyway, we went down into the church courtyard, and I recall looking at our home from a very different angle. I'd always seen it from our perspective, but from next door I recall thinking "No wonder why all those people keep coming and looking in our windows!"
The church is a catholic church, and inside it was largely lit by candles. There is a black Madonna altar which is said to perform miracles. In fact, the walls of the church were encased with stories and pictures and prayers from locals who had received or were asking for miracles to be performed by the black Madonna. I'm never one to squelch people's stories about religious artifacts - partially because as a human being with a belief in greater things, I too would love to believe that the reason someone didn't die in a car crash was because Christ's mother was watching out for them.
My father-in-law and husband took turns waiting with the dog outside the church so that J&S could have the time to look around as well. We weren't there very long because of our freezing puppy, so we went back to the house where we had hot chocolate and cider. I remember we played a few games, one of which was Blokkus. My father-in-law got the gist of the game after the first round, and decided he'd block everyone early on in the game. It was difficult maneuvering around him, but we managed. And, it turns out he lost very badly. To this day we give him crap about playing Blokkus.
I remember though, that day, my husband convinced me to take some medicine. I can't remember if it was Percocet or hydrocodone ... but I was high as a kite for a few hours on it. It sure didn't take care of my pain, but it improved my mood. It improved my mood so much in fact that we have photographic evidence. At that time in my life, I wasn't too keen on photos. Normally, I like having my picture taken by my husband - not so much by other people, but he manages to capture good moments that I like to remember.
This being one of the few times I ever willingly took medicine outside a hospital to help with the pain, I became a bigger believer in strength of mind. I have other injuries where occasionally medicine helps. For example with bursitis pain, taking some ibuprofen helps alleviate symptoms and inability to keep still. But nothing, I repeat, nothing, gets rid of Kienbock's pain. It's there and you have to live with it every second. I've uncovered ways to ignore it or mask it, but for years I've lived with the pain as if it were part of me and who I am.
Essentially, I own Kienbock's disease. I let it help define me. If I didn't, I'd live a miserable existence. It's like people who are in wheelchairs accepting help. If you don't accept help, how do you expect to get through life happy, and well? You won't. You might not be able to reach for something, but that makes you no less dignified and no less human. We all have hurdles in life. Owning them and dealing with them is the only way to ever get around them. Refusing to will make you unpleasant, and worthless. Simple things like taking walks and playing games helped me overcome the fear and incapacitation of the pain. Being with a husband who has supported me in the best way he knows how has also helped. Relinquishing control will gain you control - if that makes sense to you in some messed up way. Life is all about obstacles. You can either accept them and your reactions to them, or you can drown in them. I choose to accept them.
Showing posts with label snow. Show all posts
Showing posts with label snow. Show all posts
Saturday, September 21, 2013
Friday, August 23, 2013
Christmas Vacation - Part V
The last day we spend in GAP was an exciting one. The night before, we bought special passes to ride the cogwheel train up the tallest peak of the Alps, the Zugspitze. I call them special because you can use them for skiing, or for sightseeing. You stick them in your pocket because they have a special sensor in the m when you go through turnstiles. It's really convenient for people carrying around skiing gear or with heavy gloves on. In town, it was below freezing. We got as completely bundled up as possible. I had on 3 pairs of socks, two pairs of long underwear, jeans, a tank top, a long sleeved shirt, an authentic Austrian hand-knit sweater and a big bulky Columbia jacket with boots, gloves, and a hat. And I was worse off than a Popsicle.
Having read all about the weather, my husband and I planned to get on the very first train that morning because the only really clear view that you'll get on the mountain tops during the winter are only during the morning, after about 11 they get too cloudy to get a good view. So, we drove down to the train station that morning, got on the first train. It only makes a few stops before it heads up the mountain, and since we got on at the first stop, we had a good seat selection. Lucky for me and husband, we didn't get caught next to the chatty Aussie that J&S were stuck with. He literally could not shut up. Anything was fair game. I remember trying to look everywhere else except at this man who had no off switch. I would have hated for him to engage us in conversation. It was bad enough that he had engaged the in-laws. So when I said good seat selection, I meant that we actually got to sit. We were going up the tallest mountain in Germany holding on to any straps in the center of the train like many skiers and snowboarders were. It took quite a while to reach the exit platform. We stopped at a couple tiny villages and ski spots, before we reached the "summit." It wasn't a summit. We had to go get on a second lift up the mountain. We took a large gondola up to the tallest point of the mountain. There is a cross on the tip of the mountain that people can climb onto, but in the winter it wasn't feasible.
It was something crazy like 20 below zero up there. We were frozen the second we got out of the first train. Again, we all had to use the bathrooms - which the doors were wide open so of course they were absolutely freezing. So, once we exited at the final destination at the top, it was torture to be out on the viewing platform. But, we got in some awesome pictures that I am very proud of. So, I guess I can't complain too much.
We must have been out there for about 30 minutes before the infamous cloud cover rolled in. We went inside and to the restaurant. We sat in some traditional style wooden booths with a great view off the one side of the tip of the mountain, and the other, to the slopes below that were dotted with many people. The restaurant wasn't great. It was actually quite disappointing. I had a Bavarian meal of white sausage with dumplings called Knoedel. I don't really remember much of the meal other than it was a struggle to get the food down. But, I did have some nice hot tea that helped warm me up. And, we were warm enough to shed our outer layer of winter coats. But, unfortunately, I did not have good winterized boots. My boots were more functional for everyday wear during the fall and/or spring. My socks, all layers, and the bottoms of my jeans were soaking. This incidentally did not help my flu symptoms. I believe I had a runny nose another week after this. It was obnoxious.
Following lunch, we headed back to the gondola and decided to take it halfway down the mountain this time to a train stop outside a ski lodge where instructors worked - or something like that. I don't know exactly. We had to wait almost an hour for the gondola though so we took our time browsing in a gift shop that tried desperately to commit highway robbery. I remember buying my niece a snow globe and my nephew a keychain. I bought them one of these each place we went. Auntie and Uncle always sent home presents anytime we went someplace.
I didn't mention this before, but I have a massive fear of unsupported heights. I have always had the fear of falling. The falling feeling horrifies me, makes me feel like I'm going to die. It's not a good feeling and it's not any kind of rush like many people think. To me, it's like the penultimate moment of your life. Getting on the gondolas was none too pleasant. Luckily, this time my husband held me the entire time, away from the edges of the glass windows. We bounced most of the way down the mountain. I held it together rather well. I might attribute that mostly to the fact that I was frozen, and in pain.
When we get off the gondola, we have to walk about 2/10ths of a mile uphill to the train station. In the ice and snow, everyone was slipping and sliding. I remember charging up to the station. It was an open air station, so everything was snowy. I don't think we waited too long for the next train. When we got on though, I think it was pretty dead. Most people were sill up on the mountain playing. My family is sort of a snow family. My husband's family isn't. My family used to go tubing and sledding, and my parents skied when I was really little. But, my husband's family wasn't much like that. At least, I don't think they were. My husband said he tried snowboarding once. He remembers sort of liking it.
Once we got back to the main train station at the Olympic Stadium (yes, the main train station for the Zugspitzbahn is right outside the Olympic Stadium), we booked it to the hotel. We all went to our rooms to relax a little. I took a hot bath with the door open so my husband could watch me while he laid on the bed to watch TV. I remember that was our first experience watching Wipeout. It was hilarious to us. I think J&S took a nap or something.
A little later, we all went and had dinner again at the buffet, then returned to our room to watch movies. We had booked massages for all of us at the spa inside the hotel. So, one by one, we'd go down and have a relaxing hour-long massage. The woman who gave us our massages was not German. I think she may have been Swedish or something. But, telling her not to touch my right arm at all was a difficulty. I've had massages before, but this one wasn't great. I fell asleep for most of it and didn't feel very relaxed when I returned to my room. But, that's okay. Maybe it was great and I just had too much stress and pain to relax or something. I just remember that I really couldn't sleep that night. I stayed up with the TV on for hours after J&S left the room. I think it was 90210 or something really crappy.
Having read all about the weather, my husband and I planned to get on the very first train that morning because the only really clear view that you'll get on the mountain tops during the winter are only during the morning, after about 11 they get too cloudy to get a good view. So, we drove down to the train station that morning, got on the first train. It only makes a few stops before it heads up the mountain, and since we got on at the first stop, we had a good seat selection. Lucky for me and husband, we didn't get caught next to the chatty Aussie that J&S were stuck with. He literally could not shut up. Anything was fair game. I remember trying to look everywhere else except at this man who had no off switch. I would have hated for him to engage us in conversation. It was bad enough that he had engaged the in-laws. So when I said good seat selection, I meant that we actually got to sit. We were going up the tallest mountain in Germany holding on to any straps in the center of the train like many skiers and snowboarders were. It took quite a while to reach the exit platform. We stopped at a couple tiny villages and ski spots, before we reached the "summit." It wasn't a summit. We had to go get on a second lift up the mountain. We took a large gondola up to the tallest point of the mountain. There is a cross on the tip of the mountain that people can climb onto, but in the winter it wasn't feasible.
It was something crazy like 20 below zero up there. We were frozen the second we got out of the first train. Again, we all had to use the bathrooms - which the doors were wide open so of course they were absolutely freezing. So, once we exited at the final destination at the top, it was torture to be out on the viewing platform. But, we got in some awesome pictures that I am very proud of. So, I guess I can't complain too much.
We must have been out there for about 30 minutes before the infamous cloud cover rolled in. We went inside and to the restaurant. We sat in some traditional style wooden booths with a great view off the one side of the tip of the mountain, and the other, to the slopes below that were dotted with many people. The restaurant wasn't great. It was actually quite disappointing. I had a Bavarian meal of white sausage with dumplings called Knoedel. I don't really remember much of the meal other than it was a struggle to get the food down. But, I did have some nice hot tea that helped warm me up. And, we were warm enough to shed our outer layer of winter coats. But, unfortunately, I did not have good winterized boots. My boots were more functional for everyday wear during the fall and/or spring. My socks, all layers, and the bottoms of my jeans were soaking. This incidentally did not help my flu symptoms. I believe I had a runny nose another week after this. It was obnoxious.
Following lunch, we headed back to the gondola and decided to take it halfway down the mountain this time to a train stop outside a ski lodge where instructors worked - or something like that. I don't know exactly. We had to wait almost an hour for the gondola though so we took our time browsing in a gift shop that tried desperately to commit highway robbery. I remember buying my niece a snow globe and my nephew a keychain. I bought them one of these each place we went. Auntie and Uncle always sent home presents anytime we went someplace.
I didn't mention this before, but I have a massive fear of unsupported heights. I have always had the fear of falling. The falling feeling horrifies me, makes me feel like I'm going to die. It's not a good feeling and it's not any kind of rush like many people think. To me, it's like the penultimate moment of your life. Getting on the gondolas was none too pleasant. Luckily, this time my husband held me the entire time, away from the edges of the glass windows. We bounced most of the way down the mountain. I held it together rather well. I might attribute that mostly to the fact that I was frozen, and in pain.
When we get off the gondola, we have to walk about 2/10ths of a mile uphill to the train station. In the ice and snow, everyone was slipping and sliding. I remember charging up to the station. It was an open air station, so everything was snowy. I don't think we waited too long for the next train. When we got on though, I think it was pretty dead. Most people were sill up on the mountain playing. My family is sort of a snow family. My husband's family isn't. My family used to go tubing and sledding, and my parents skied when I was really little. But, my husband's family wasn't much like that. At least, I don't think they were. My husband said he tried snowboarding once. He remembers sort of liking it.
Once we got back to the main train station at the Olympic Stadium (yes, the main train station for the Zugspitzbahn is right outside the Olympic Stadium), we booked it to the hotel. We all went to our rooms to relax a little. I took a hot bath with the door open so my husband could watch me while he laid on the bed to watch TV. I remember that was our first experience watching Wipeout. It was hilarious to us. I think J&S took a nap or something.
A little later, we all went and had dinner again at the buffet, then returned to our room to watch movies. We had booked massages for all of us at the spa inside the hotel. So, one by one, we'd go down and have a relaxing hour-long massage. The woman who gave us our massages was not German. I think she may have been Swedish or something. But, telling her not to touch my right arm at all was a difficulty. I've had massages before, but this one wasn't great. I fell asleep for most of it and didn't feel very relaxed when I returned to my room. But, that's okay. Maybe it was great and I just had too much stress and pain to relax or something. I just remember that I really couldn't sleep that night. I stayed up with the TV on for hours after J&S left the room. I think it was 90210 or something really crappy.
Friday, February 17, 2012
Christmas Vacation Part IV
You thought my stories about Christmas would end? Not a chance!
The next day that we were in GAP, we drove to Austria. For anyone who has never traveled in Europe, it can be a great ordeal to drive from one country to another. While Austria may have some of the best and most well cared for roads in the world, you have to have a special pass for your vehicle to drive on the Autobahn and highways. In GAP, because it's right on the border of Germany and Austria, you can buy these special stickers at any gas station. If you're caught without one of these special sticker passes, you can be fined up the you know what.
That morning we stopped at the gas station to fill up and buy our pass. The resort is literally 5 minutes up the street and my mother in law has to get out to go to the bathroom. Then, everyone leaves me in the car alone. My husband goes inside to pay, J&S went inside so S could use the toilet (which you have to pay for), and then they all come back with food despite the snacks we had in the car ... again. I mean, I guess when in Rome ... at least my husband bought me an apple juice drink that I love called Granini. They make all sorts of flavors of juice drinks, but the apple one is the one I love the most.
This day, I was actually in rather good spirits. On the drive down in to Innsbrueck (which was where we were headed) we saw all sorts of fabulous winter sights that we didn't see the last time we went as it was summer then. The Alps were beautifully covered with snow and surrounded by fluffy clouds, cross country ski tracks were everywhere, and we of course told them the following great story:
In Germany and Austria, it is very VERY popular for vacationers to come from the Netherlands at all times during the year. In fact, the Germans we knew made fun of the Dutch saying they never worked, they were always on holiday. During the winter though, there are HOARDS of Dutch people that flock to the Alps. Yeah, sure people from all over come to ski and stuff, but the Dutch are exceptional. If you know anything about Holland, you know that it's flat - there's no such thing as mountains. So, they like to come down to get their skiing on. The thing is, they are notorious for thinking they know how to ski, but being horrible. They are so horrible at skiing that there are hundreds, if not thousands, of accidents every year related to the Dutch in the Alps. Now, because this region of Austria and Germany is very mountainous, hospitals are few and far between. Also, below freezing temperatures make it difficult to find and rescue accident victims. So, rescue teams have come up with these massive orange helicopters that they fly into the mountains to rescue injured winter sportsmen and women alike. In German, the word for helicopter is the same as in English. The word for the Netherlands however, is very similar: die Niederlands (dee nee-dur-lahndz). The Germans and Austrians love to joke about the Dutch and their horrendous efforts at winter sports, and one thing that they've come up with is called the "Niedercopter." The big orange helicopters that rescue the Dutch ...
We also tell them about our experiences at the Swarovski crystal factory. It's the only factory in the world that they have, and they let the public come in to tour their "museum" and "gift shop." I'd warn you away from it for many reasons, but you'd have to see if for yourself to believe me. Trust me. It's an experience you'll never forget. No, they don't show you crystal mining or making since it's all top secret ... instead you get to see their "museum" and then troll around the huge shop looking at all the crystals and things you can't afford to buy, but can't stop looking at.
When we get in to Innsbrueck, we park in the parking garage not far from the town center - which is where we were headed. They had a mini Christmas market set up, and we all agreed to visit it when we came back that way. We walked around the town looking into shops, admiring shop windows, viewing the hotel where Mozart and his father once stayed, discussing the Goldenendachhaus (Golden roofed house which is really just gold leaf if I recall correctly), and made some small purchases. We went inside the Swarovski store there in the town, and my husband, being the loving and sweet man that he is, purchased these gorgeous earrings that were treble clefs (because I'm a musician) and a matching bracelet with music notes dangling from it. I was shocked - I couldn't believe it. To this day I save them for special occasions, and I still have the bag it came in ... and the free stud they gave him for making a purchase!
Around lunch time we were all starving. We found a cafe that was up a few floors overlooking the town center. We crowded into this corner booth and ordered coffee, hot chocolate, and lunch. S & I decided to be adventurous and order the goulash. By the way, Austrian goulash is delicious. I can't even remember what J or my husband ordered because mine was so good! So, we're sitting there having our lunch and chatting about everything, when S and I notice the people sitting behind J. The man has an arm in a cast and sling (those European ones I told you about). We start whispering to each other and giggling. We were, of course, referencing the Niedercopter story. Granted, we don't even know if this guy is Austrian or German let alone Dutch. My husband leans over and asks what we're giggling about. Our table was U shaped, so J was the only person sitting in front of this couple. Since he was a bit farther away, I started whispering to my husband about the Niedercopter. J gets all interested in what we've all be giggling over and asks what we're laughing about. Of course, we can't say it out loud - every European knows English. They'll know what we're talking about. I say in hushed tones that we'll tell him later. For some reason, he figures out that we're discussing the people behind him, so he turns and steals a peek. Then, turning back to us he says "What? Niedercopter?"
We DIE laughing.
After our delicious lunch, we shopped a little more than went back to the little Christmas market. We looked around at all the traditional items being sold. J's feet were freezing, so we bought him some Alpaca or Sherpa woolen socks that he proceeded to put on in the freezing weather ... quite funny. We saw some delicious local fare and stopped to try it out. They were serving sauerkraut in bread bowls. We all decided to get some and then ate more. I stopped by my favorite little bake shop and got some sweet rolls and goodies for us. Then, we visited the church where Mozart performed. The summer before that we had went there, we saw a wedding outside and took pictures. It's a gorgeous church that is very VERY Rococo. Your eyes might burn with cherubs and drippy, flamboyance but the architecture and marble are beautiful and not to be missed.
On the way back to the car, we stopped at another little street Christmas market. We ordered some Gluehwein which smells like hot whiskey and tastes like hot Nyquil. Odd? Yeah but the great thing is that Gluehwein is pretty much the same anywhere you get it. While we're standing there drinking our hot mulled wine, these 20 something year old guys are having a medieval sword fight behind the booths. It was cracking us up. They were so dramatic ... and in so much trouble. The people working the market kept asking them to stop, to move and to leave. We videotaped some of it. It was a riot watching the little Austrians get all huffy about these boys who weren't even bothering anyone.
All in all, the day was great. We had fun, and I don't remember being grouchy. I think I might have been feeling better that day ... but that should have been a sign of warning of things to come.
The next day that we were in GAP, we drove to Austria. For anyone who has never traveled in Europe, it can be a great ordeal to drive from one country to another. While Austria may have some of the best and most well cared for roads in the world, you have to have a special pass for your vehicle to drive on the Autobahn and highways. In GAP, because it's right on the border of Germany and Austria, you can buy these special stickers at any gas station. If you're caught without one of these special sticker passes, you can be fined up the you know what.
That morning we stopped at the gas station to fill up and buy our pass. The resort is literally 5 minutes up the street and my mother in law has to get out to go to the bathroom. Then, everyone leaves me in the car alone. My husband goes inside to pay, J&S went inside so S could use the toilet (which you have to pay for), and then they all come back with food despite the snacks we had in the car ... again. I mean, I guess when in Rome ... at least my husband bought me an apple juice drink that I love called Granini. They make all sorts of flavors of juice drinks, but the apple one is the one I love the most.
This day, I was actually in rather good spirits. On the drive down in to Innsbrueck (which was where we were headed) we saw all sorts of fabulous winter sights that we didn't see the last time we went as it was summer then. The Alps were beautifully covered with snow and surrounded by fluffy clouds, cross country ski tracks were everywhere, and we of course told them the following great story:
In Germany and Austria, it is very VERY popular for vacationers to come from the Netherlands at all times during the year. In fact, the Germans we knew made fun of the Dutch saying they never worked, they were always on holiday. During the winter though, there are HOARDS of Dutch people that flock to the Alps. Yeah, sure people from all over come to ski and stuff, but the Dutch are exceptional. If you know anything about Holland, you know that it's flat - there's no such thing as mountains. So, they like to come down to get their skiing on. The thing is, they are notorious for thinking they know how to ski, but being horrible. They are so horrible at skiing that there are hundreds, if not thousands, of accidents every year related to the Dutch in the Alps. Now, because this region of Austria and Germany is very mountainous, hospitals are few and far between. Also, below freezing temperatures make it difficult to find and rescue accident victims. So, rescue teams have come up with these massive orange helicopters that they fly into the mountains to rescue injured winter sportsmen and women alike. In German, the word for helicopter is the same as in English. The word for the Netherlands however, is very similar: die Niederlands (dee nee-dur-lahndz). The Germans and Austrians love to joke about the Dutch and their horrendous efforts at winter sports, and one thing that they've come up with is called the "Niedercopter." The big orange helicopters that rescue the Dutch ...
We also tell them about our experiences at the Swarovski crystal factory. It's the only factory in the world that they have, and they let the public come in to tour their "museum" and "gift shop." I'd warn you away from it for many reasons, but you'd have to see if for yourself to believe me. Trust me. It's an experience you'll never forget. No, they don't show you crystal mining or making since it's all top secret ... instead you get to see their "museum" and then troll around the huge shop looking at all the crystals and things you can't afford to buy, but can't stop looking at.
When we get in to Innsbrueck, we park in the parking garage not far from the town center - which is where we were headed. They had a mini Christmas market set up, and we all agreed to visit it when we came back that way. We walked around the town looking into shops, admiring shop windows, viewing the hotel where Mozart and his father once stayed, discussing the Goldenendachhaus (Golden roofed house which is really just gold leaf if I recall correctly), and made some small purchases. We went inside the Swarovski store there in the town, and my husband, being the loving and sweet man that he is, purchased these gorgeous earrings that were treble clefs (because I'm a musician) and a matching bracelet with music notes dangling from it. I was shocked - I couldn't believe it. To this day I save them for special occasions, and I still have the bag it came in ... and the free stud they gave him for making a purchase!
Around lunch time we were all starving. We found a cafe that was up a few floors overlooking the town center. We crowded into this corner booth and ordered coffee, hot chocolate, and lunch. S & I decided to be adventurous and order the goulash. By the way, Austrian goulash is delicious. I can't even remember what J or my husband ordered because mine was so good! So, we're sitting there having our lunch and chatting about everything, when S and I notice the people sitting behind J. The man has an arm in a cast and sling (those European ones I told you about). We start whispering to each other and giggling. We were, of course, referencing the Niedercopter story. Granted, we don't even know if this guy is Austrian or German let alone Dutch. My husband leans over and asks what we're giggling about. Our table was U shaped, so J was the only person sitting in front of this couple. Since he was a bit farther away, I started whispering to my husband about the Niedercopter. J gets all interested in what we've all be giggling over and asks what we're laughing about. Of course, we can't say it out loud - every European knows English. They'll know what we're talking about. I say in hushed tones that we'll tell him later. For some reason, he figures out that we're discussing the people behind him, so he turns and steals a peek. Then, turning back to us he says "What? Niedercopter?"
We DIE laughing.
After our delicious lunch, we shopped a little more than went back to the little Christmas market. We looked around at all the traditional items being sold. J's feet were freezing, so we bought him some Alpaca or Sherpa woolen socks that he proceeded to put on in the freezing weather ... quite funny. We saw some delicious local fare and stopped to try it out. They were serving sauerkraut in bread bowls. We all decided to get some and then ate more. I stopped by my favorite little bake shop and got some sweet rolls and goodies for us. Then, we visited the church where Mozart performed. The summer before that we had went there, we saw a wedding outside and took pictures. It's a gorgeous church that is very VERY Rococo. Your eyes might burn with cherubs and drippy, flamboyance but the architecture and marble are beautiful and not to be missed.
On the way back to the car, we stopped at another little street Christmas market. We ordered some Gluehwein which smells like hot whiskey and tastes like hot Nyquil. Odd? Yeah but the great thing is that Gluehwein is pretty much the same anywhere you get it. While we're standing there drinking our hot mulled wine, these 20 something year old guys are having a medieval sword fight behind the booths. It was cracking us up. They were so dramatic ... and in so much trouble. The people working the market kept asking them to stop, to move and to leave. We videotaped some of it. It was a riot watching the little Austrians get all huffy about these boys who weren't even bothering anyone.
All in all, the day was great. We had fun, and I don't remember being grouchy. I think I might have been feeling better that day ... but that should have been a sign of warning of things to come.
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Christmas Vacation - Part III
It takes about an hour to get from Garmisch-Partenkirchen (GAP) to Schwangau, which is where Hohenschwangau and Neuschwanstein are. Schwan in German means swan. Ludwig's family was very into swans, and they were a symbol of his family. The two castles are completely visible from each other, and are only separated by a small valley where the village lies between with touristy shops, restaurants and such.
We got up super early. It's incredibly difficult to get reservations at the castles, and we had called the week before and they said they were not taking reservations. So, in order for us to make sure that we got tickets into the castles that morning, we had to get to Schwangau first thing.
The snowy roads were thick with fog and the snow kept falling. But, the Germans take such good care of the roads, snow and ice weren't problematic so we made excellent time. While Casey parked and everyone got ready for the morning escapade, I ran to the ticket center and bought 4 tickets for the castles. They give you a time for your tour, and usually they are super close together which can mean disaster if you don't plan ahead - which we did.
I was once again in an incredibly bad mood that day. I think the cold weather was getting to me, my arm was itchy inside the damned cast, and the latest development that was scaring me to death: my fingers started peeling. I mean, this wasn't some dead skin like you get on the bottom of your feet, or after a blister or something. I mean, my regular skin on my diseased arm was cracking, bleeding, and peeling for no reason. I kept it warm, I kept it gloved, I was freaking out. It didn't help that my husband and I had a skirmish that morning and he was rather short with me which made me even nastier. If this disease didn't disable me completely, it definitely ruined my self control. Anyway, I was mad that no one took our tour time seriously. In Germany, they are very obsessed with punctuality. If you miss your time, you pay again for a whole new tour ... and this one had already set us back a steep amount of Euro. Everyone was dawdling at the car, taking their sweet time rather than booking it up to the tour.
There is no easy way to get up to Hohenschwangau other than to hike up the hundreds of steps on the mountainside - at least, that's what it feels like. In the bitter cold, with icy paths, it was worse. I'd been to the castle in summer and fall, but this was a whole new experience. We were slipping and sliding all up the mountain.
In slow seasons, you get personal tours through Hohenschwangau. I was quite pleased at this because usually they throw you an audio guide and shove you through rooms so fast you could blink and miss everything. J&S were very pleased with the tour. At the end, we all went to the bathroom - which meant peeling layers of clothing off including long underwear in a freezing cold bathroom. This time, S was able to help me get all my pants up and all my shirts tucked in and my zipper up and my belt buckled.
We had some time in between tours, so we hit up the gift shop that is just outside the castle, and then walked back down the mountain. We went and stood in line to take horse carriages up the mountain to Neuschwanstein. Our tour was in 40 minutes, and there are only a few carriages, and each one only holds 6 passengers.
I vividly remember this scene. My husband and J are standing at the head of the line. There's a specific spot on the street with a sign that tells you to line up and wait for the horse carriages which take about 15 minutes round trip. S and I are standing on the sidewalk behind my husband and his father when a huge group of British tourists come up in line behind us. When two carriages arrive and we four try to pay the driver before we get in (which is the polite thing to do), all the British tourists shove in front of us, get on the carriages and we're left standing there. Their tour guide is still barking at them as they're driving away, and my husband starts mouthing off to her. "Excuse me, excuse me! We were in line and you just stole our carriages. We have the next tour." The snotty woman refuses to respond to my husband. He keeps mouthing off to her about how rude they are and where the line clearly is, and who clearly should have got in the carriages first. The people behind us start in too. They're on the next tour as well, American vets, and are older. My husband is going on and on, S & I are laughing. It was so unbelievable. Americans get such a bad rap for being awful ambassadors when traveling! Really I tell you, it's the bloody British. AND, to add insult to their grievous injury, they are OBSESSED with lines. If you dare cut in Britain, you're liable to be beat to a pulp. I know, I've been there. They're all about order and rights and such.
When we finally get in a carriage, we're super anxious because our tour was to start quickly. We got in one with the group of older vets behind us and head to our destination: 3/4 of the way up the mountain. We're deposited in the slushy snow and have something like 5 minutes until our tour. We run up the mountain to make it on time ... but the group behind us didn't. I don't know what happened to them but those British tourists should be ashamed of themselves. Stealing carriages from old people with tour times before theirs! Let me just say, this did NOT improve my mood at all.
After the tour, we all hit the bathrooms again, and then the gift shop. Then we spend time dawdling around the outside of the castle taking lots of pictures. I'm grouchy and sniping at everyone every chance I get. Once again, I was not dealing with the pain, the discomfort, or the disease well. It gets worse ...
So, we're on our way home and J & S don't like the food we packed for the trip to save money from eating out all the time. They say they need "substance." Now I'm super pissed. My husband had to stop in the first big town that had restaurants, pay for parking, then take us all to a restaurant that neither he nor J could eat at because it's seafood and they don't like it, and husband is allergic to it. Then, they take their sweet time (again) ordering, that I take the last prepared meal that S decides she wants ... and complains she is starving.
Now, I love my mother-in-law to death, but I'm a post-surgery patient who's dealing with traumatic pain to say the least and the possibility of never feeling my hand or arm again and never using it properly ever again - and she refuses to eat my meal, which is the exact same that she ordered. I become a monster. I completely shut down. When us girls finish our meal, we walk around the corner to a butcher shop and deli (which we all should have gone to in the first place) where my husband and J order food for themselves.
When we got back to the hotel, I was irate but I had schoolwork to complete. The Lodge has a computer lab, so husband and I went down there so he could type up my responses for the week. J&S come down and say they want to go in the hot tub after dinner. I don't want to, but husband says I should go. So we have dinner at the buffet again, and then head to our rooms to change.
I look like an idiot coming out of our room with my swimsuit on over clothes and a big plastic trash bag tied around my arm and tucked into my cast. Can anyone give me a woo-hoo?
I spent around 2 hours in the hot tub with my arm outside propped up on the freezing cement. It was uncomfortable to say the least. But, what bothered me the most was surprisingly the heat. After surgeries like mine, it is typical to experience nerve dysfunction where you cannot tolerate changes in temperature well. To this day, I have this problem. Taking a shower is torture for my arm, but the freezing cold of the day mixed with the piping hot water in the hot tub was just too much for me. Plus, everyone was staring - and they were Americans not Germans so I was NOT okay with it.
Needless to say, I went to bed that night angry beyond repair. I'd had one of the most aggravating and miserable days of my life ... and it was about to get worse.
We got up super early. It's incredibly difficult to get reservations at the castles, and we had called the week before and they said they were not taking reservations. So, in order for us to make sure that we got tickets into the castles that morning, we had to get to Schwangau first thing.
The snowy roads were thick with fog and the snow kept falling. But, the Germans take such good care of the roads, snow and ice weren't problematic so we made excellent time. While Casey parked and everyone got ready for the morning escapade, I ran to the ticket center and bought 4 tickets for the castles. They give you a time for your tour, and usually they are super close together which can mean disaster if you don't plan ahead - which we did.
I was once again in an incredibly bad mood that day. I think the cold weather was getting to me, my arm was itchy inside the damned cast, and the latest development that was scaring me to death: my fingers started peeling. I mean, this wasn't some dead skin like you get on the bottom of your feet, or after a blister or something. I mean, my regular skin on my diseased arm was cracking, bleeding, and peeling for no reason. I kept it warm, I kept it gloved, I was freaking out. It didn't help that my husband and I had a skirmish that morning and he was rather short with me which made me even nastier. If this disease didn't disable me completely, it definitely ruined my self control. Anyway, I was mad that no one took our tour time seriously. In Germany, they are very obsessed with punctuality. If you miss your time, you pay again for a whole new tour ... and this one had already set us back a steep amount of Euro. Everyone was dawdling at the car, taking their sweet time rather than booking it up to the tour.
There is no easy way to get up to Hohenschwangau other than to hike up the hundreds of steps on the mountainside - at least, that's what it feels like. In the bitter cold, with icy paths, it was worse. I'd been to the castle in summer and fall, but this was a whole new experience. We were slipping and sliding all up the mountain.
In slow seasons, you get personal tours through Hohenschwangau. I was quite pleased at this because usually they throw you an audio guide and shove you through rooms so fast you could blink and miss everything. J&S were very pleased with the tour. At the end, we all went to the bathroom - which meant peeling layers of clothing off including long underwear in a freezing cold bathroom. This time, S was able to help me get all my pants up and all my shirts tucked in and my zipper up and my belt buckled.
We had some time in between tours, so we hit up the gift shop that is just outside the castle, and then walked back down the mountain. We went and stood in line to take horse carriages up the mountain to Neuschwanstein. Our tour was in 40 minutes, and there are only a few carriages, and each one only holds 6 passengers.
I vividly remember this scene. My husband and J are standing at the head of the line. There's a specific spot on the street with a sign that tells you to line up and wait for the horse carriages which take about 15 minutes round trip. S and I are standing on the sidewalk behind my husband and his father when a huge group of British tourists come up in line behind us. When two carriages arrive and we four try to pay the driver before we get in (which is the polite thing to do), all the British tourists shove in front of us, get on the carriages and we're left standing there. Their tour guide is still barking at them as they're driving away, and my husband starts mouthing off to her. "Excuse me, excuse me! We were in line and you just stole our carriages. We have the next tour." The snotty woman refuses to respond to my husband. He keeps mouthing off to her about how rude they are and where the line clearly is, and who clearly should have got in the carriages first. The people behind us start in too. They're on the next tour as well, American vets, and are older. My husband is going on and on, S & I are laughing. It was so unbelievable. Americans get such a bad rap for being awful ambassadors when traveling! Really I tell you, it's the bloody British. AND, to add insult to their grievous injury, they are OBSESSED with lines. If you dare cut in Britain, you're liable to be beat to a pulp. I know, I've been there. They're all about order and rights and such.
When we finally get in a carriage, we're super anxious because our tour was to start quickly. We got in one with the group of older vets behind us and head to our destination: 3/4 of the way up the mountain. We're deposited in the slushy snow and have something like 5 minutes until our tour. We run up the mountain to make it on time ... but the group behind us didn't. I don't know what happened to them but those British tourists should be ashamed of themselves. Stealing carriages from old people with tour times before theirs! Let me just say, this did NOT improve my mood at all.
After the tour, we all hit the bathrooms again, and then the gift shop. Then we spend time dawdling around the outside of the castle taking lots of pictures. I'm grouchy and sniping at everyone every chance I get. Once again, I was not dealing with the pain, the discomfort, or the disease well. It gets worse ...
So, we're on our way home and J & S don't like the food we packed for the trip to save money from eating out all the time. They say they need "substance." Now I'm super pissed. My husband had to stop in the first big town that had restaurants, pay for parking, then take us all to a restaurant that neither he nor J could eat at because it's seafood and they don't like it, and husband is allergic to it. Then, they take their sweet time (again) ordering, that I take the last prepared meal that S decides she wants ... and complains she is starving.
Now, I love my mother-in-law to death, but I'm a post-surgery patient who's dealing with traumatic pain to say the least and the possibility of never feeling my hand or arm again and never using it properly ever again - and she refuses to eat my meal, which is the exact same that she ordered. I become a monster. I completely shut down. When us girls finish our meal, we walk around the corner to a butcher shop and deli (which we all should have gone to in the first place) where my husband and J order food for themselves.
When we got back to the hotel, I was irate but I had schoolwork to complete. The Lodge has a computer lab, so husband and I went down there so he could type up my responses for the week. J&S come down and say they want to go in the hot tub after dinner. I don't want to, but husband says I should go. So we have dinner at the buffet again, and then head to our rooms to change.
I look like an idiot coming out of our room with my swimsuit on over clothes and a big plastic trash bag tied around my arm and tucked into my cast. Can anyone give me a woo-hoo?
I spent around 2 hours in the hot tub with my arm outside propped up on the freezing cement. It was uncomfortable to say the least. But, what bothered me the most was surprisingly the heat. After surgeries like mine, it is typical to experience nerve dysfunction where you cannot tolerate changes in temperature well. To this day, I have this problem. Taking a shower is torture for my arm, but the freezing cold of the day mixed with the piping hot water in the hot tub was just too much for me. Plus, everyone was staring - and they were Americans not Germans so I was NOT okay with it.
Needless to say, I went to bed that night angry beyond repair. I'd had one of the most aggravating and miserable days of my life ... and it was about to get worse.
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Christmas Vacation - Part I
The morning after my in-laws arrived, we packed up and headed out for a Christmas vacation. Since my husband was lucky enough to finally get time off, we planned a whole big hoopla for J & S. We had rented a car (ours was acting up and in the shop) and piled it high with our suitcases, bags, and snacks.
We headed out that morning around 7am in order to get to the very famous medieval walled city of Rothenburg ob der Tauber. If you go anywhere in Germany, you're likely to hear about Rothenburg. Its fame makes it incredibly touristy so we decidedly missed the usual rush of spring through fall and went in the winter when it was snowy and perfectly un-crowded. I had been to the city in the summer and in the fall - both seasons were gorgeous. Winter did not disappoint. We went to the famous Jakobskirche - a Lutheran church that is now used primarily for concerts but is famous for its original stalls, altarpiece, and hand-carved wooden alter to the blood of Jesus Christ. It's this amazing work of art that depicts the last supper, all wood and hand carved from the 1400s, and is said to have a stone on the crucifix that holds a drop of Jesus Christ's blood.
Now, I've been to Rothenburg several times and it really is a good value despite what people say. Every time we go there, we go to this church. It's so breathtakingly beautiful that you can't help but sit up at the altar and gaze in amazement that somebody was that talented. J & S of course loved the church. As usual, my husband took a million photos. We have several hundred of this church alone. It might cost 2 Euro per person to get it, but it is totally worth it. Besides, the money goes to the restoration of the church. It was bombed out during World War II and is slowly being restored to its original state. Some things survived like the altar of the holy blood, and the stalls, etc.
After we oohed and aahed in the church, we wandered around the town which has lots of trinket-y shops and little cafes and such. Since it was Christmas, they also had a Christkindlsmarkt - the German term for the traditional Christmas market that is usually found in squares around cities during the month of December. The tradition was started in Germany and Austria, and is big in much of central and western Europe.
Being ill was not pleasant during this outing. We took J & S to the medieval crime and punishment museum - which we've been to many times. I remember feeling the throbbing pain of the metal and the holes in my arm. The entire time we were in the museum, I looked pallid and felt miserable. At least it's a fun museum though. Thumb screws, dunking cages and iron maidens galore await your senses. It's fun to learn about medieval crime and punishment I tell you!
We also visited the famous Kaethe Wohlfahrt Christmas village. It's this famous store - the biggest Christmas store in Europe or something, and they are famous for their ornaments. They're open year round, and you can get some of the most amazing things there. Every year we bought ornaments from Kaethe Wohlfahrt for every family member. J & S LOVED the store. We spent an hour in there dawdling and looking at all the beautiful things to buy. It was really hard for me to be in that store looking back on it. I love to pick things up and handle them in stores. I couldn't even pull the strings on the traditional wooden dancing ornaments. It was disappointing. I'm very hands-on when it comes to many things, and shopping is just no fun with a gimp arm. I think I still enjoyed myself though, and I didn't get too crabby that I remember.
Well, I didn't get too crabby until the bathroom incident. They had a special bathroom set up in the middle of town because the regular public restrooms were blocked by all the market stands. So, we all decide we need to go. I managed to stuff my fat cast arm into my brand new Columbia winter coat. I was decked out that day with long underwear (it was below freezing outside), jeans, boots, gloves, a big fat sweater, a hat and a scarf. And, being Germany, they do not have a disabled restroom. This is common. Disabled persons aren't often out in public because they do not make public areas accessible to disabled persons. It's just a caveat of travel in Europe and it's typical. I go into the bathroom and they're tiny stalls. This means, that even if I needed help, I wouldn't get it. I'd had lots of bathroom mishaps since the surgery, and my husband couldn't be here to help me this time. Great. I take off the glove on my good hand, and leave the other glove that I stretched over my cast. It looks like I have a wooden arm. Seriously. Then, I manage to undo my belt and my pants (both layers) down, and do my business without any problem. When I try to re-suit up, it becomes an issue. I must have been in the stall a good 3 or 4 minutes just trying to get my pants done up and my belt on. No such luck, so I come out of the stall to wash my hand. All these ladies are pushing and shoving around the tiny sinks washing their hands. I just wait until there's a lull, and turn on the water, wash my hand as good as possible, then try to get a paper towel. I'm helpless trying to pull the paper towel out of its holder because I'm not left handed. I'm annoyed and say to the nearest woman "Koennen Sie mich helfen? Ich hab' nur ein Hand," which means "Can you please help me? I only have one hand."
By the time I had gotten out of the bathrooms, I had to ask my mother-in-law to do up my pants and belt. It would be no problem with my mother, but this was not my mother. I didn't feel comfortable having to ask that. Plus, it's kind of degrading to have to ask like a three-year-old for mommy to help you do up your pants. It hurt me. I wanted to be able to do the stuff I always could, that was a "no brainer".
After the bathroom, we went to a small cafe that overlooked the town and had coffee with cakes. I was still bothered. We were eating out in public and I could barely lift my coffee cup without spilling it with my left hand. Also, I had to share a streusel with my husband because it would take me forever to eat my own slice. For as upset as I was, I know I did a really good job of keeping my feelings and anger to myself. We were able to have a good time despite.
While there, we took lots of pictures, bought the famous Schneeballen (snowballs) which are pastry balls with toppings like chocolate or powdered sugar, walked the length of the medieval wall that surrounds the town, and shopped. It was a cold day, but I did the best I could making sure that I was enjoying my experience. After all, it wouldn't be fair to ruin my in-laws' first visit to Europe ever just because I was suffering from post-surgery pain and woes. Depressed as I was, I braved being as normal as possible that day. Soon however, it would catch up to me.
We headed out that morning around 7am in order to get to the very famous medieval walled city of Rothenburg ob der Tauber. If you go anywhere in Germany, you're likely to hear about Rothenburg. Its fame makes it incredibly touristy so we decidedly missed the usual rush of spring through fall and went in the winter when it was snowy and perfectly un-crowded. I had been to the city in the summer and in the fall - both seasons were gorgeous. Winter did not disappoint. We went to the famous Jakobskirche - a Lutheran church that is now used primarily for concerts but is famous for its original stalls, altarpiece, and hand-carved wooden alter to the blood of Jesus Christ. It's this amazing work of art that depicts the last supper, all wood and hand carved from the 1400s, and is said to have a stone on the crucifix that holds a drop of Jesus Christ's blood.
Now, I've been to Rothenburg several times and it really is a good value despite what people say. Every time we go there, we go to this church. It's so breathtakingly beautiful that you can't help but sit up at the altar and gaze in amazement that somebody was that talented. J & S of course loved the church. As usual, my husband took a million photos. We have several hundred of this church alone. It might cost 2 Euro per person to get it, but it is totally worth it. Besides, the money goes to the restoration of the church. It was bombed out during World War II and is slowly being restored to its original state. Some things survived like the altar of the holy blood, and the stalls, etc.
After we oohed and aahed in the church, we wandered around the town which has lots of trinket-y shops and little cafes and such. Since it was Christmas, they also had a Christkindlsmarkt - the German term for the traditional Christmas market that is usually found in squares around cities during the month of December. The tradition was started in Germany and Austria, and is big in much of central and western Europe.
Being ill was not pleasant during this outing. We took J & S to the medieval crime and punishment museum - which we've been to many times. I remember feeling the throbbing pain of the metal and the holes in my arm. The entire time we were in the museum, I looked pallid and felt miserable. At least it's a fun museum though. Thumb screws, dunking cages and iron maidens galore await your senses. It's fun to learn about medieval crime and punishment I tell you!
We also visited the famous Kaethe Wohlfahrt Christmas village. It's this famous store - the biggest Christmas store in Europe or something, and they are famous for their ornaments. They're open year round, and you can get some of the most amazing things there. Every year we bought ornaments from Kaethe Wohlfahrt for every family member. J & S LOVED the store. We spent an hour in there dawdling and looking at all the beautiful things to buy. It was really hard for me to be in that store looking back on it. I love to pick things up and handle them in stores. I couldn't even pull the strings on the traditional wooden dancing ornaments. It was disappointing. I'm very hands-on when it comes to many things, and shopping is just no fun with a gimp arm. I think I still enjoyed myself though, and I didn't get too crabby that I remember.
Well, I didn't get too crabby until the bathroom incident. They had a special bathroom set up in the middle of town because the regular public restrooms were blocked by all the market stands. So, we all decide we need to go. I managed to stuff my fat cast arm into my brand new Columbia winter coat. I was decked out that day with long underwear (it was below freezing outside), jeans, boots, gloves, a big fat sweater, a hat and a scarf. And, being Germany, they do not have a disabled restroom. This is common. Disabled persons aren't often out in public because they do not make public areas accessible to disabled persons. It's just a caveat of travel in Europe and it's typical. I go into the bathroom and they're tiny stalls. This means, that even if I needed help, I wouldn't get it. I'd had lots of bathroom mishaps since the surgery, and my husband couldn't be here to help me this time. Great. I take off the glove on my good hand, and leave the other glove that I stretched over my cast. It looks like I have a wooden arm. Seriously. Then, I manage to undo my belt and my pants (both layers) down, and do my business without any problem. When I try to re-suit up, it becomes an issue. I must have been in the stall a good 3 or 4 minutes just trying to get my pants done up and my belt on. No such luck, so I come out of the stall to wash my hand. All these ladies are pushing and shoving around the tiny sinks washing their hands. I just wait until there's a lull, and turn on the water, wash my hand as good as possible, then try to get a paper towel. I'm helpless trying to pull the paper towel out of its holder because I'm not left handed. I'm annoyed and say to the nearest woman "Koennen Sie mich helfen? Ich hab' nur ein Hand," which means "Can you please help me? I only have one hand."
By the time I had gotten out of the bathrooms, I had to ask my mother-in-law to do up my pants and belt. It would be no problem with my mother, but this was not my mother. I didn't feel comfortable having to ask that. Plus, it's kind of degrading to have to ask like a three-year-old for mommy to help you do up your pants. It hurt me. I wanted to be able to do the stuff I always could, that was a "no brainer".
After the bathroom, we went to a small cafe that overlooked the town and had coffee with cakes. I was still bothered. We were eating out in public and I could barely lift my coffee cup without spilling it with my left hand. Also, I had to share a streusel with my husband because it would take me forever to eat my own slice. For as upset as I was, I know I did a really good job of keeping my feelings and anger to myself. We were able to have a good time despite.
While there, we took lots of pictures, bought the famous Schneeballen (snowballs) which are pastry balls with toppings like chocolate or powdered sugar, walked the length of the medieval wall that surrounds the town, and shopped. It was a cold day, but I did the best I could making sure that I was enjoying my experience. After all, it wouldn't be fair to ruin my in-laws' first visit to Europe ever just because I was suffering from post-surgery pain and woes. Depressed as I was, I braved being as normal as possible that day. Soon however, it would catch up to me.
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