A Week Without Dave

Usually when Dave travels to the States for a week,  I attempt to work 40 hours while manically maintaining an Anne-Kalletta level clean house, completing worksheets and reading homework, serving veggies and protein to my two masters, and making lunches, picking out clothes, and actually catching the school bus on time.  ("Emily, you have to eat!   Lift the fork, put the eggs in your mouth, and CHEW.  The bus is pulling around the corner.")  I avoid eye contact with the chatty, put together moms who stand at the bus stop, watching.  I kiss my first grader, run back up to make a cup of coffee (with a shot of amaretto) and bundle up the kindergartner, and walk him to school.  I frantically take his coat off, figure out where his snack goes, change into his indoor shoes, and drop him in early daycare under the judging eyes of the pre-school teachers - who I am sure are thinking "my husband deploys all the time - what's your problem."  I arrive at work thinking I should have put three shots of alcohol in my coffee.

This time, I decided to use my annual leave - not an easy decision.  I value my leave more than money.   If I take three days in a row,  I should visit Prague, Berlin, or Budapest.  When I moved to Germany, I added a new pressure - to travel at every opportunity.  The voice in my head frequently says "Once in a life time opportunity." I forget Frankfurt is a foreign city for me.  A stay-cation here counts as travel.  

With Emily's 100th fall break on Thursday and Friday, we planned mommy and me dates.  We biked downtown, got haircuts, did our nails, and went to two art museums.  Emily asked if we could get treats at the coffee store.  I stopped in front of a European cafe.  "No, the REAL coffee store."  What is the real store?  "Starbucks."

We also started new lego kits.  Emily is building a winter wonderland and Owen, a crazy eagle.

Towards the end of the week, Adriana - Aunt Linda's best friend Joyce's daughter visited.  Adriana, a junior at Brenmar, studied in Scotland this semester.    While she spent a few hours shopping, visiting museums, and walking around Frankfurt, she also made a chocolate cake, played Sorry, and biked with us.

We happily welcomed Dave home on Saturday.

Geneva: NOT a Beautiful City

While responding to personal e-mail earlier this month, I mentioned I was working in Geneva for the week.  Several friends responded, "Hope you have some time to see Geneva - I hear it is beautiful!"   Um no.  The name instantly invokes images of quaint European architecture, French bakeries, and fashionable citizens.  Grey, post WW II industrial architecture, streets filled with construction, and a lack of green spaces should come to mind.  Not a place I would want to spend three years.

And. the. prices.  I spotted Citizens for Humanity jeans sitting in a window for 495 Francs - about $550.  A white gold coil ring called me into a French jewelry store.  As I waited to ask the sleek sales woman the price, I noticed her issuing a certificate of authenticity to a customer purchasing a simple charm necklace on a nylon band.  I thought, really.  I guess the 1800 Franc, which is over $2000, ring price makes sense.

To save the government money, I stayed with my friend Heather who is posted there.  (Dave and I get a kick out of her legendary morning routine.  She gets up at 5:30 to leave her apartment by 8:30.)  She explained the ridiculous restaurants charge for mediocre food - except for one French Bistro.  Since Geneva sits in the French speaking part of Switzerland, I had high expectations - and the restaurant did not disappoint.

In the Sates, a side of vegetable at Ruth Chris consists of a broccoli stalk.  Not here.  A stuffed tomato, colorful ratatouille, and luscious green beans decorated our plates.  And how perfect is the fillet??

My last day, we travelled two hours by train to visit Callier, the first chocolate factory in Switzerland.  Callier actually invented the chocolate bar.  His son-in-law, who inherited the factory decided to partner with his neighbor, Henri Nestle who was producing condensed milk, and create the milk-chocolate bar.

(Wouldn't this place be a great school field trip?)

Similar to a Disney ride, visitors walk along chocolate's historical timeline with major events represented by theatrical, decorated rooms.  (At one point, the Catholic Church tried to ban hot chocolate because of the "effects" it had on women.  Suppression comes in many forms.)

The factory section displayed the ingredients.

This gadget picks up the "bad" chocolates - like there is such a thing - and tosses them in the trash.

We ended our visit in an all-you-can-eat tasting room.

After gorging ourselves with sugar, we visited Gruyere to see how my favorite hard, yellow "quiche" cheese is made.

The day of feasting ended at an amazing sushi bar.

Brownie Competition

My friend Matthew shares my undying passion for chocolate.  I spot "Milka" wrappers in his trash and hot chocolates start his day.  So you can imagine my surprise when he insisted box brownies - a processed product containing little cocoa - tasted better than homemade whose ingredients include 100g 80% chocolate bar and rich European butter.  He did specify Ghiradelli box brownies, which I made religiously until Cheryl introduced me to the real thing.  Now, I snub my nose at box anything.

We needed a blind taste test to prove homemade is the best.  I would make four different brownies - two box and two different recipes.  Dave and Matthew would taste.  (Matthew's wife, four months pregnant, continues to be sick at the thought of food.)  Our friends Beverly and Tim, who prefer other desserts to brownies, agreed to participate so we could have four sets of taste buds.  Plus, Beverly makes delicious ice cream - the perfect spouse to brownies.

Owen and Emily prepared the box brownies.  (Owen likes to cook without being hampered by clothing.)

 Dave drew the bracket.



I served the samples.  Each person carefully tasted.  Tim created a criteria chart to aid his judging.   We compared two at a time.  The judges quickly declared Duncan Hines the worst in the first set, then the worst overall.  Some preferred both in the second set to the winner of the first.  Coming up with a fair voting mechanism became challenging.

Matthew required a few more tastes to make his decision.  

To my dismay, he chose the Ghiradelli box!!  I now understand why the US still relies on the electoral college.                         

According to Hamilton, It was equally desirable, that the immediate election should be made by men most capable of analyzing the qualities adapted to the station, and acting under circumstances favorable to deliberation, and to a judicious combination of all the reasons and inducements which were proper to govern their choice.   (I think Matthew may not possess these qualities.)  A small number of persons, selected by their fellow-citizens from the general mass, will be most likely to possess the information and discernment requisite to such complicated investigations. (Where as I definitely do.)

Enjoying Germany

The last 24 hrs reminded me I love living in Frankfurt.  Last night, Dave accompanied me to a dinnner for work.  We rode our bikes in the brisk air towards the dozen sky scrapers composing Frankfurt's "skyline."  I love riding the Zeil, the cobblestoned pedestrian rode.  The "old" Opera house - rebuilt of course after the war - lit the platz.  With an extra thirty minutes before dinner, Dave humored me as I modeled winter jackets in Zara and Weisheiten.  We parked our bikes by my favorite art museum and carried our helmets into the restaurant.

The German waiter became quickly annoyed at his dozen American guests.  "We were not expecting babies and have only one high chair."  "Would you please take your seats."  "Uh fried potatoes (you dummie)," he said glaring angerly when Dave asked what side came with his entree.   We excused ourselves early (after two hours) and enjoyed the twenty minute ride home.

This morning, we played nine holes at his "club" in Wiesbaden.  His friend, a young German surgeon, joined us.  (I also met his other golfing buddies - 65 year old Jakob, 73 yearl old Wolfgang, and 80 year old Hadi.  I watched Hadi walk each fairway carrying his 20 lb bag on his back - talk about an inspiration.)  The trees on every hole framed the greens in orange and yellow.  The two hour walk in the unusual fall sun with practically no other people anywhere invoked a sence of (rare) calm.

We returned home, swapped the minivan for our bikes, and headed back downtown.  I bought a stylish new jacket while Dave re-cleated his golf shoes.  We strolled the farmer's market and found brats and waffles - the perfect lunch.  I chatted with my favorite cheese lady resulting in my 40 euro cheese purchase.  (I had to buy the "scharze nusse" - dark walnuts soaking in mysteries black syrup - to slice over the four different cheeses I wanted to try.)  I used my German to request locally grown apples and veggies for the weekend at a produce stand and the guy replied in perfect English.

Riding home, I thought "the perfect day."

Where Did October Go?

I am a little slow posting these days as my Grandmother mentioned last week.  I traveled for work much of the month.   Nightly routines - homework, baths, dinner, a few hands of UNO - absorb most of my free time.  We filled October with bike rides, golf and Halloween activities.  (Next year, I need to post pictures of the amazing foliage.  The vineyards along the Rhine look like a painting.)

Emily's school hosted a "Truck-or Treat" party.  Emily dressed as a zombie and Owen inherited a batman costume from our neighbor.   We arrived just in time for the rain.  On Halloween, we trick or treated around the Siedlung.  Each building sets up a table with candy.  One group set up a bar-b-que and handed out "brats" and beer to the adults.  Although Halloween is strictly an American holiday, the local Germans don their costumes requesting treats as they walk around the American complex.  This year candy lasted about 45 minutes before most tables ran out.