It has been so long since I’ve posted that I’ve almost forgotten how to.  This school year started full-speed and hasn’t stopped yet.  My class is larger this year than usual.  Usually I have around 20 students; this year I have 30.  The incoming 7th graders seem to be a bit less mature than in previous years, too.  Oh, well, I love them and wouldn’t trade my job for anything, but it has left me pretty drained.  I have struggled with my eyesight too.  It is not getting much worse, but I find I avoid things that require reading in the evenings.  I read so much at school that my eyes are tired at night.  Sometimes they just don’t focus very well.  I am a very visual person so this is troublesome.  We just keep praying and hoping that they will heal. 

My daughter, her husband and baby moved into their own apartment in November.  Not long after Alexander began crawling.  That was close.  I was really wondering how we could possibly child-proof this house.  I sure do miss them though.  Alexander laughs every time I go over to visit.  It warms my heart. 

Today was a day of Christmas shopping.  What a wonderful morning we had!  One of our teachers suggested we collect money instead of exchanging gifts.  Our pastor told us of a family of five children, most of whom are foster kids being cared for by their aunt.  We adopted this family and ended up with enough money to get jackets for all, a DVD player and several DVDs for the family in addition to several nice toys for the 4 younger kids and boots for the teenager.  Three of us shopped together and had a great time!! Later I did a bit of my own.  Usually I am finished by this time.  I guess it is just the way this year is going. 

Merry Christmas to all!

Sorry I have been off line for so long.  I have had some personal difficulties for the past few months and have totally neglected my xanga.  I have so missed my xanga-friends.  Here is a slide show I got together for the beginning of our trip.  Some of the pictures are repeats of the last post, but I liked the story they all tell.  Much love to all of you.

So, how does a person even begin to tell the story of a truly great time?  I’ve been thinking about it for weeks.  Of course, there have been many responsibilities to crowd my thoughts too, but I always go back to this. 

I guess the beginning is always a good place.  But before beginnings are preparations and anticipations.  I must admit there were plenty of those.  Apprehensions, too.  We did make it off though, but our first attempt at leaving was thwarted by a delayed airplane.  In the afternoon of Monday, July 23, with our bags packed, camera batteries charged, lists check and rechecked, we hustled out the door going to the airport.  At the airport we took pictures, kissed our daughter and grandson goodbye, and went inside.  Filled with excitement, we approached the ticket counter only to notice that our flight was delayed.  We only had an hour between flights in Minneapolis, now what?  Our choice was to go out that night and sleep in a hotel, paid for by the airlines, catching the next day’s flight to Europe; or go home, sleep in our own bed, fly out in the early morning and catch that same flight to Amsterdam.

God bless cell phones.  We caught our daughter before she got on the highway.  Half an hour later we are dining at Chili’s and laughing about our lack of spontaneity.  Somehow our own bed had sounded more appealing. 

So, next morning we finally board the plane after a restless, short night.

Minneapolis from the air in amazing.  The land of 1,000 lakes is appropriately named. 

We had a pretty long wait in Minneapolis. We wandered the airport and drank coffee.  Finally we went over to our waiting area to oin the other 400 or so passengers. There we met a darling elderly couple from India.  They spoke
little English, but we noticed they would be sitting next to us on the plane, across
the aisle.  They asked if we were going to Bombay too. The Amsterdam airport must send people all over that part of the world!

We loaded into a huge plane that seated us eight across.  We were in the center section of four seats.  I would have loved a window seat, but I don’t think it would have shown me anything.  It was now early afternoon and we were would be flying into the night over the ocean most of the way. Our night was cut short by seven hours as we passed through the time zones.  We flew for 8 hours, but the clocks went from 3:00 pm to 6:00 am during that time. Who can sleep on a plane anyway?  We were dazed and exhausted when we arrived in Amsterdam.

We had several hours wait before taking a bus out to a field of airplanes. City Hoppers they are called! This little City Hopper took us the rest of the way to Nurnberg.

Landing in Nurnberg!  We are finally there.

On Monday a new school year starts.  I have been so busy getting my room ready that I haven’t even looked at all our pictures.  I can’t wait until I have time to get them in order and get some printed.  Right now they are only on the computer.  The bed calls.  I need my rest to be ready for those junior high kids. 

Nighty-night, folks!

I will have to say.  This trip has been a dream realized.  I do hope we will come again before too long, but even if we don’t, I am satisfied with all we have done.  Tomorrow we will leave and fly home.  I can’t help but feel a bit a apprehension as we return to our jobs and the problems that we were able to lay down for a few weeks.  I do hope that we will be changed people when we return.  We discussed what we want to bring back from each country we visited.  This is what we decided.

From Germany, we want to bring back orderliness and simplicity.
From the Czech Republic, we want to bring back friendliness and hope.
From France, we want to bring back adventurousness and joy.

And from all the people we met from everywhere, from the Czech Republic, Germany, France, Kyrgystan, Australia, Romania, Ukraine and England, I want to remember that God is everywhere and people relate and become momentary friends even without language.  Mihail from Romania told me, Don’t ever be afraid to go see people.  We all share so many things, most people are good and God is everywhere.

This Czech lady taught me how to knit the British way on a train going to Prague.  She wanted us to stay and spend the day in her town.  Neither of us understood the other’s language. With hand motions we had to let her know we could not stay.

This man explained some of the buildings in Paris.  He knew very little English, but he loved his city.

This was all arranged with hand motions.  I’m not sure what language they spoke. It wasn’t French, Spanish, German or Russian. Those we could recognize a few words from.

We went to Paris and stayed for several days.  I think a Paris visit should be a week or more to enjoy it all.  Then we rented a car and drove south in search of the old homes.  Armed with pictures and a few street names we began our search.  Amazingly enough, we found both houses and in both situations, the owners invited us in and shared wine and talked.  I will give more details later.  Right now I am writing on my son’s computer which has a German keyboard.  Some of the keys are mixed up so it is hard. 

This was the view out of our window in Paris.  We were right across the street and river from Notre Dame.  It was noisy and wonderful!  More later.

I am typing this on a German computer in the lobby of a small hotel not far from the town square in Munich.  My husband is having a conversation with the German hotel owner about history.  Eurüpe has so much history and so many incredibly beautiful buildings.

We have been to the Czech Republic last week.

Yesterday we visited Dachau Concentration Camp.  It was a very sober experience, almost too much to handle. There is something about seeing the place first hand that makes it so much more real. Tomorrow we are going to Paris.  This is a dream that I never thought would happen.  How amazing it all is!!

Time to put up the computer and get going.

My grandson’s father decided to teach him how to blow out because he often gasps and sucks air in. Here’s what he learned.

You just never know with kids what they’ll learn from you!

I am collecting old pictures to take to Europe with me.  Some of them will help me find where I once lived in France .  Here’s a picture of where we lived in a suburb of Paris.

Even to a Frenchman, my new nephew-in-law, the address was confusing.  Another place was in southern France.

This one ought to be easier to find.  It was where we lived when I was 4 years old.  The town is still very small from what I can tell on maps.  I’m sure the castle is still there.  It dates back to the 1400s.  When my mother was 8 years old, she got polio and was unable to walk without big braces for many years.  She read stories of princesses living in castles and prayed fervently that one day she might be able to live in one, too.  Her prayer came true when we moved to France.  She was delighted at first, but then she realized how empty such a big place could be with very little furniture.  Then winter came, and it would never warm up. The walls were nearly 3 feet thick at the base and had become an ancient city for mice.  We had a very fat cat after a while!  She always cautioned us to be careful what we prayed because it just might come true. 

Let the countdown begin!  We have three weeks before we fly to see our son in Germany.  When Nick and I first got together 37 years ago, he promised me we would go to Europe the next year.  Well, it didn’t work out.  He started a business. Children came.  The dream was forgotten, swallowed up in the busy-ness of life.  Actually, I had even forgotten we ever planned to go.  That was until our son moved to Germany for a job. 

This is the year we will go back and see some of our childhood homes.  I spent two and a half years in France when I was four to almost seven years old.  Nick was born in Croatia and lived in a refugee camp in Italy until he was seven and moved to New York.  This trip we are going to see the “castle” I lived in.  We decided to forgo the refugee camp in Trieste because it is so far from everything else.  The camp has been turned into a museum.  Before it was a refugee camp, it had been a Nazi death camp, the only one in Italy.  I can only imagine what kinds of ghosts haunt that place! 

To be continued with pictures.