These last couple of weeks have been kind of rough. Everything is all set for us in the US; we have a house, phone numbers, utility accounts, etc. Extracting ourselves from Germany has been less simple, frustrating even. It's like at the end of a movie, when the last lines of the credits disappear at the top of the screen and the house lights come on. There's no point in sitting in the theater any longer, the magic is over and it's time to go home. Trouble is, we're still stuck here, with few belongings in a house that no longer feels remotely like home amongst people we feel no connection with. The days are punctuated by one move out crisis after another- the landlord refuses to cooperate on a meeting time, the painter needs to make an estimate, the people coming to buy our appliances have changed their minds. The in between time is hours reading and watching Netflix on an air mattress in a house darkened against the summer heat, a place of limbo. The Company said we had to stay until the end of July, so that's what we're doing.
But, this is also a time for remembrance, a chance to look back at the highlights of this experience, jot them down, and honor the moments and places that have made all the frustrations worth it. So, over this last week I'm going to dust off my notes, dig through my photo archives, and share some of my favorite places and memories with you. I'll cover a different place each day over on my Instagram account, but I'll present them all at once for you here in this post. Without further ado, here are the highlights of the last 5.5 years:
Norway: Bridge to Another World
The first time I left the United States I went to Norway. As soon as I returned, I wanted to go back. Norway sparked a love for travel that I've never been able to shake. When I finally did return in 2015, it was just as I remembered. It is a land of fast waters, lofty mountains, deep valleys that plunge into bright blue fjords, hillsides dotted with red barns, cliff sides dotted with turf roofed cabins, a place the sun never really sets in summer, and a country filled with cheerful, kind, and beautiful people. It started it all for me, it was a bridge to another world and another life. Going back opened the imagination even further. The road through the Jotunheim was just as stunning as I remembered. The waters were just as clear. The fogs were just as mysterious. Norway will stay with me the rest of my life, as all things that change our lives do.
Moments from Norway I don't want to forget: walking in Otta after midnight because we could, getting our butts kicked by Grandma Badass hiking the Vidden trail, Diam in the ice cream, cheese filled/bacon wrapped/fried onion topped hotdogs on a ferry, getting our precious Kvikk Lunsj bars stolen by seagulls in Odda, the longest tunnel in the world (at the time) with those blue caves along the way, dinner from a gas station, the Fram, the smoky smell of stave churches.
Lisbon: Best Kept Secret
We went to Lisbon to escape the chilly atmosphere of Germany and because all those tiles looked incredible. We ended up in awe of its soul. I have never been in a city like Lisbon before. It is stunningly beautiful, of course. The architecture, the people, and the very streets themselves were an endless photographic journey. The food was a revelation. Lisbon has all the things that make a great European capital worth a visit, but it has something that no other city on this continent has: the Lisboetas themselves. Never once in all these years have we entered a city inhabited by such warm and wonderful people. Coming from Germany, the climate and food were shock enough, but the locals' hospitality and kindness hit us like a splash of cold water on a hot day. From waiters, to shop keepers, to doctors, to people we passed on the street, they were all overwhelmingly kind and gracious. We never felt as welcome in a city as we did in Lisbon, it was absolutely gut wrenching to leave. If anyone asks me what is the best place in Europe to visit that few people ever go to I will always answer Lisbon. Be warned, however, you may not want to leave either.
Moments from Lisbon I don't want to forget: that first pastel de nata, sunsets from mirados, vinho verde, watching a soccer game in the park, lunch in the market, watching the day end at Belem Tower during that rock music festival, the kid with the water, "Santa Maria!", the emergency room, getting my sight back, ginja in the little chocolate cups, music coming from somewhere every night.
Belgium: Dear Kindred Spirit
Oh, Belgium, Belgium, you weird, wonderful mess, you. Belgium was our refuge for many years while we lived in Luxembourg. It was a place of misty forests, bike races, amazing beer, bizarre encounters; a place where the unexpected should always be expected. It was a country where we had our worst travel disappointments and favorite little revelations. I think I love Belgium, both halfs, because it reminds me of where I'm from. Except for the microcosm of Brussels, a bustling international city, Belgium feels slightly trapped in another time and slightly left behind. The roads are full of holes, abandoned homes and factories fill the towns and cities, the population is mostly working class, the countryside feels wild and untamed, the majority of cities are past their prime, slow moving canals run along old streets- some reeking of the garbage floating on their surfaces. The bars in small towns are inhabited by silent old cantankerous men who suspiciously eye you over Jupiler beer. The cities are layered in generations of grime and all the other tattered trappings of failing modern societies. But, if you spend a little more time there and peer around the corners, you'll find an art market in a small warehouse, jazz clubs down alleys, small independent theaters, craft breweries, and on occasion someone playing Brahms on a piano at midnight in a city square. Sure, Belgium may seem like it's dying a slow death, but under the surface it is very much still alive and kicking, just like the "Rust Belt" back home. I recognize Akron, Cleveland, Youngstown, and Toledo in Ghent, Liege, Arlon, and Antwerp. They were comforting and familiar, and could be a marvel if you let them, just like my hometown.
Moments from Belgium I don't want to forget: every single bike race we got to watch from its roadsides, paper cones of golden frites with mayonnaise, renting that guy's basement in Spa to go cycling only to have every road closed for a rally car race, having Kwaak in the proper glass for the first time, buying cheese at Orval, peering over walls in Rochefort, talking with the Estonian diplomats during the Brussels beer festival, every single night in Ghent, gnomes around Houfflaize, the brothel run by the 12 year old Chinese kid in St. Hubert, every single meal at L'Ancienne Hopital, cycling to Bruges, trying to rent a van in Liege, sugar waffles, pralines, buying more beer than we could ever hope to finish.
Italy: Land of Light and Life
We could always count on Italy to come through, no matter where in it we ended up. It was always as beautiful, exciting, and as fun as we hoped it would be. It was easy to kick back and enjoy life in. Rome floored us with the weight of its legacy and countless layers of history. Congested and chaotic it wrapped us up in blankets of memory. Rome has always been and will always be. Florence, hurried and gilded kept us at a distance, but little Lucca made up for all the bustle with its peaceful squares, and hidden alleys. Countless villages passed on back road routes were pulled from postcards. Then, there was Venice. Venice was a tapestry, the light was ethereal, the sounds muffled, the pace slow and yet still hectic. It was a pleasure to photograph and I only scratched the surface of possibility. But, most special was little Sorico on the shores of Lake Como, a haven, a refuge from the world and home to some of the nicest people we've ever met. And, of course, Italian food is the best in the world, from toe to calf the eating is incredible all along the boot. Despite what the French might say, the Italians have mastered food and wine and coffee. The rest of us are just trying to catch up.
Moments from Italy I don't want to forget: getting off the highway somewhere on the way to Florence and getting sorta kinda lost, gelato every day, pizza on park benches, cannoli in Rome, learning to love wine again, freezing for dawn photos in Venice, Christmas in Venice (for crying out loud), having St. Paul's to ourselves, realizing Fernet Branca sounds cooler in the Dark Knight script than it tastes in real life, all the flowers, appreciating the Italians' gift for the public argument, that cafe for fisherman in Burano, dawn at the Spanish Steps, naps in the heat of the day, finding abandoned palaces in the hills, the tunnels, Madonna del Ghisallo, Fausto Coppi's hometown, discovering the moka pot, dawn arriving over the Forum, afternoon thunderstorms, every single meal Mama Angela made and her tiramisu too.
Iceland: Be Still My Heart
Several people I know have visited Iceland this year, and I'm thrilled they did. It's one of those places that has to be seen to be believed. Even after seeing it, you may not believe it. There's a reason Iceland stands in for other planets in the movies. You could almost swear it was. Even now I can't quite put the place into words. I believe Scandinavia is one of the most beautiful regions on earth, and Iceland is most certainly the jewel in its crown. There are waterfalls that create rainbows, basalt columns rising out of the earth, black sand beaches, moss covered fields of lava, glaciers miles deep with chapels carved out of them, and its capital city is a place covered in color. And, then in the winter there is this incredible nightly show that cannot be matched by anything else created in nature or created by man. It is a place so incredible it catches your breath. Your heart skips a beat. If any spot on earth could light a passion of love for this planet it is Iceland. If you haven't been, go. Go now.
Moments I don't want to forget from Iceland: super Jeeps everywhere, discussing the pros and cons of eco tourism with a couple of Poles and our Icelandic guide, that trip up the Jokulsarlon glacier and then going into it, really expensive but delicious IPAs, that bar that was only playing old MTV music videos, dinners at gas stations, little hairy ponies running alongside the bus, a beach of ice sculptures, the Viking longhouse under our hotel, seals playing in the lagoon, almost getting blown away in the wind, using crampons, all too brief days, risking frostbite because I couldn't stop watching and photographing those waves and waves of color and light.
Ireland: Balm for the Soul
Ireland was the hardest to leave, the one place I could honestly see staying in forever. There's no way we would have ever stayed in Luxembourg or Germany for the long term. We and our expat bases couldn't make it together forever, we're too different. But, Ireland felt that it could be home. Why? Sure, it helps that we could speak the language for a change, and yes, that scenery is so beautiful it almost hurts. But, like Lisbon, it was the people that pulled us in. The Irish are a special people, they're open, real, and welcoming. You can walk into a restaurant or a bar and there's no staring or silent judgement, they smile and talk to you like you belong there. That's one of the main things that I miss about home in Ohio, friendly people up for a chat. Keep in mind, I'm an introvert, so missing random conversation is really saying something. Being in Ireland was a balm for the soul. On top of being genuinely lovely folks, they were pretty fantastic cooks and musicians too. And, then there were those green rolling hills, misty evenings, flash rain falls, wildflowers, ruins, and sheep. If ever I disappear, look in Ireland first.
Moments I don't want to forget from Ireland: reuniting over crab claws and pints with a friend and spending time with her family, getting a little lost in Dublin, staying in the famine cottage outside of Cahersiveen, the solstice at the ring fort, talking basketball and LeBron James at Mike Murts, talking/coping with Brexit with the guide at Tullamore D.E.W., live music and spilled pints in Doolin, learning about whiskey from the old guy at the liquor store, seeing the Skelligs across the water, climbing up into the rain and over fences to find a wedge tomb, getting lost in the mountains and then having to wait for the cows to move so we could turn around, learning there's a better way to see the Cliffs of Moher, yelling "Hedge!", the Burren at sunrise, the sea wind off the coast, breaks in the clouds, flicking Trump off when we drove by his golf course, laughing with just about everyone we met, lunch at Tom Crean's amidst portraits of him, Shackleton, and clippings about polar exploration, finally seeing Newgrange, feeling like (for once) we belonged.
Paris: City of Cities
There is nothing I can say about Paris that hasn't already been said. For those who have spent some time in Paris, the city is their own. Paris is our own, it is our Paris, not anyone elses. It's complicated, mystifying, intimidating, inspiring, pure white and yet dirty. It doesn't give itself up to you easily, you have to come back again and again to peel back the crafted surface to see its insides. Then you come back again and it's the same but also completely different. Paris was our place, and we'll always have it, as the saying goes. I'm blessed to have stood beneath the Eiffel Tower in the middle of the night before terrorism made such an experience unattainable. We had our hotel and our cafe. We knew the city's rhythms for a while and that is good enough for me. You can't fully know Paris. In many ways it exists on its own plane. But, you can go and it will be there, different and unchanged. No city is like it, nothing could ever be.
Moments from Paris I don't want to forget: that last time at Cafe Central complete with absinthe and escargot, Hotel de Paris Invalides, the little studio we rented at Christmas with all the books on art, sunshine on the golden dome of Les Invalides, tangos spied on the banks of the Seine, choco pain and cappuccinos, that slap stick comedy routine we did on Rue Cler, the smell of the Metro, endless hours in flea markets, hot dogs in baguettes, the sewer museum, seeing Saint Chapelle for the first time, freezing under the bridge across from Notre Dame, knowing where everything was (for the most part), people watching in Gare d'Est, those stairs to that studio we rented at Christmas, Christmas in Paris (for heaven's sake), boat rides in the dark, the Eiffel Tower every night on the hour.
The Alps: Home to My Dreams
The Alps. They will always have my heart. It doesn't matter if they're the Swiss, the French, the Austrian, the German, or the Italian Alps. I love them. Ok, the ones in Switzerland may be my favorite. There are beach people and there are mountain people. I'm 100% a mountain person. Give me rocky peaks, snow, unpredictable weather, rolling mist, waterfalls, and deep and green valleys over sand, sea, and sunshine every single time. I want my landscape to scare me a little, keep me humble. I want a landscape I can't take my eyes off of. The Alps are an especially unique mountain range because people live there and have lived there for thousands of years. Walk down the trail a ways and you may find yourself in a town or at a hut with a micro brewery. It's a civilized but completely uncivilized place. The Alps are shockingly beautiful, comfortable, and terrifying. I don't know if we will ever get to return to all these other places, but I deeply hope we will get to come back to the Alps someday. I will miss them dearly.
Moments from the Alps I don't want to forget: that horrible and wonderful climb up Legnone, making the turn into Lauterbrunnen for the first time, self serve cheese on the side of the road in Switzerland, Franks' place, that schnapps sampler, chicken fajitas, raclette for dinner four nights in a row, driving the switchbacks from Italy to Switzerland, meeting goats and marmots, watching climbers in Chamonix, hiking all day to beer, the traditional giant Toblerone bar every time, buying vignettes, hiking in the dark to watch the sun ignite the peak of the Matterhorn, cow bells, old men in felt hats, honor shops, the north face of the Eiger in all its glory, the crack of an avalanche high above.
What about Germany and Luxembourg, you ask? Well, those places deserve more than a blurb. I'll get to them in due time.
Then there are all the other moments in all the other places I don't want to forget either: tacos in Edinburgh, going to where they buried my ancestor's leg bone in Caen, saying hi to kings and queens and other important folks buried in Westminster, getting horribly ill on the beaches of Normandy, apocalyptic weather in Barcelona, almost getting stuck in Bratislava, having disappointing cake in Vienna, midnight trains to Prague, finding THE picnic spot from To Catch A Thief and having chicken and beer there too, Eze, lavender fields, swimming in the Med with that octopus, ruin pubs in Budapest, "The foulest thing in the room!", Sunday roast dinners, Stonehenge, caipirinhas in Dresden, randomly driving through the town my paternal grandfather's people are from in Austria, walking into Austria that other time because it was right there, taking The Dog just about everywhere we could, calvados, meeting friends of friends in a Newcastle bar and getting trashed with them, staying in that old bakery near Valkenburg, going to the Tour de France, feeling the power of the Arenburg Trench, eating the marrow because no one else would, cycling in Ærø, being kids at Legoland, a train ride from Scotland to England, and, and, and...
It sure has been fun!
