Day 2 in Munich...

Decalage horaire, quelle horreur!!! Which translates to up at 4am and what to do?

Breakfast is only served at 6:30am...Had plenty of time to shower and doll myself up for the excursion today to Harburg castle and then to Rothenburg, a medieval village.

Breakfast at the hotel-a treat
Getting dolled up this morning-brilliant intuition (I even had lipstick on at that hour)
Getting asked to join a young American for breakfast at 6:30am-PRICELESS!

David was a cutie of an American, training to be a chef. He was on business to learn from senior chefs (Michelin stars) and worked along their sides. Worldly, well-spoken, strong and solid beliefs and somewhat comical in nature. After being showered with compliments about my hair, eyes and VOICE ( as he closed his eyes to describe what it is he likes-yum), he asks me how old I am- to which I reply "consider me, Mrs. Robinson".

He never heard of The Graduate...clearly I dated myself. David is 28.
God we ALL need pick me ups like this...to remind us that we are not just middle aged mothers, with typical life stressors. How nice to be looked at and TOLD "you are attractive-Hell, you don't need plenty of fish".
...and NO I WILL NOT BE SEEING him, as he left town. It was just a lovely breakfast with a perfect stranger!!!! Thanks David for putting a smile on my face so early in the day!!

I walked merrily to the train station, to meet the tour company. Petra was a drab tour guide and someone remind me to "NEVER JOIN A BIG ASS TOUR AGAIN" with American teenagers. I know I have American viewers here...but these guys lacked a global education, manners, basic knowledge. Makes me wonder what is happening in high schools.

The grayline bus hit the autobahn... and we were told this highway system is THANKS to Hitler. He wanted to reduce unemployment levels, back then. To do so, he ordered the creation of autobahns. The speed limit on most of these highways is 130km/hr. That being said, 19% of the autobahns are SPEED LIMIT FREE. Who needs the Grand Prix?

We made it to Harburg castle and thanks to Wikipedia, one knows that "Harburg is a town (population 6,000) on Bavaria's romantic road boasting one of the most impressive remaining medieval castles in Germany. It is in the Donau-Ries district.
The castle was first mentioned in 1150 and has never been seriously damaged by war. Unlike many other German castles which were often built in the last 200 years or rebuilt after World War II, the castle Harburg retains the feel of the Middle Ages. Michael Jackson has called Harburg "the castle of my dreams", and he tried (unsuccessfully) to buy it.
The village itself is quaint with many footpaths and a historic stone bridge."

We drove an hour more to Rothenburg ob der Tauber, in the district of Ansbach of Mittelfranken. It is a well-preserved medieval old town. The name of this village comes from German, meaning Red fortress above the Tauber river.
The village was also an inspiration for Walt Disney's movie Pinocchio.
There was a band from Wisconsin, Ambassadors of music,with over 100 gifted musicians who performed for the tourists. Nice way to relax and enjoy the scenery.

On the ride back, my American teenage FRIENDS, decided to be loud and obnoxious for the duration of the THREE hour ride back....Calgon and Grey GOOSE take me away.

About thirty minutes close to Munich, we drove over The Danube river and I thought of Strauss' An der schönen blauen Donau. Here's my conundrum: That river was not blue...the water was as clear as could be. Which brings me to my next thought: was Strauss living a blue moment?

Tomorrow, Salzburg, Austria for the day....can't wait to walk the streets of Wolfgang and the place where The Sound of Music was filmed....

For now, Auf Wiedersehen!

First impressions of Munich, Germany

Guten tag,

Yesterday was officially my first day in Munich. I chose Munich, based on my trip last summer when I flew into this city and had a chance to check out the aerial view of this place. I had found it charming, green and somewhat peaceful below the clouds.

The flight to Munich yesterday was a breeze. I even had a chance to nap, which isn't something I do all that easily. The airport is in the midst of a forest. The city center of Munich is about 30km. I tried to negotiate with a desert dwelling cab driver, to no avail. I even begged! Failure totale!!!

I arrive at the sofitel in Bayerpost and the lovely blue-eyed, blond haired lady desk manager informs me that it will take a few hours to give me a room, as the hotel is fully booked. She convinces me to drop everything and begin discovering the area.

So my discovery of this city begins....a stroll along Bayer strasse/street, where I am surprised to see so many Lebanese vendors. Arabic writing on the store windows, signs, menus... I continue along Neuhauser Strasse and Kaufinger strasse/street to reach old town,a touristy, cobble-stoned square with cafes, a town hall, and a church. It is said that between 1319 and 1791, this gateway served as the entrance to the Old City through the second fortified ring wall.
Nearby is the Burgersaalkirche (church) which holds the tomb of Father Rupert Mayer, whose opposition to the Nazis cost him his life.

Once I arrived to the square, I found a nice outdoor cafe and enjoyed my morning latte and watched people walk on by. I was blown away by the TALL folks walking by, the mannequins at H&M were GIANT size to represent the German population. The locals have a sense of style. The women are elegantly dressed and the men HAD NICE SHOES and Jeans (I guess now would be a good time to tell you have a shoe fettish-men's shoe that is!!!) I was too tired to pull out my camera and focus...hohum....otherwise, I would have been clicking away to add to my collection of Men around the World!

At 11am I had the pleasure of listening to the Glockenspiel/Carillon of the New Town Hall, a neo-gothic building which was erected between 1867 and 1909. The 85 meter tower is a Bavarian attraction, with its 43 bells, and 32 almost life-size figurines which dance and entertain the crowds. The dance has something to do with the celebration of the wedding of Duke Wilhelm V to Renata of Lorraine.

I continued meandering for the next three hours and returned to the hotel, only to find out that my room was no where ready. They asked me to kindly be seated ans they would get back to me. I began observations of the patrons of this hotel. Burkas, black veils, while their MEN wore tank tops, shorts and sandals. Did I forget to mention that the temperatures were in the 35C and humid!!! I felt I could have been in Qatar, Dubai, Kuwait....and wait a second they are getting room keys!!! Why???
Oh manager....Jet lag finally reached its toll.

I did get a room and Bassam my syrian porter was kind enought to escort me to my room. I coudn't keep it in...from one desert dweller to another, I asked him "wasss up with all the burkas???" He laughed!!!!Hysterically!
Apparently, the Saudis can't stanf their local weather in the fifties; they travel on holiday to cooler climates ( like Munich's 30s) to chill!!! ...and shop apparently. Of course, true to Tania, I then asked..."shop for what????The Burkas cover everything, including NOSTRILS!!!" He burst out laughing again.

I settled in my room and turned on some television...only to see TV Kuwait, TV Dubai, TV SAUDI, TV AL Jazeerah and this went on...no joke.
Don't you think, somewhere on the hotel brochure or web page, they should have removed them gorgeous German blonds I like to check out and instead displayed Burka central....that way, I can choose to go there or NOT?? Just sayin'....if I wanted to see Qatar, I would have flown there, no?

In search of Farrah Fawcett...

My eldest son and I got caught up with conversations of Playboy, its utility, how women should not be seen as receptacles etc....

Then it hit me...I need to tell HIM something.
In essence, I mentioned to him that in 1995, being a huge fan of Farrah Fawcett, I bought her first nude spread in Playboy magazine. That morning, I had heard on a local AM station (CKGM for those of you who remember them days)that owning that edition of Playboy Magazine (in its sealed bag no less) would be a collectible one day.

... And so with my hubby in tow, we headed to a nearby news stand, purchased the icon's nude spread and came home. I won't go into the sordid detail of how uncomfortable HE was to see me pick up the mag, pay for it and walk home. Surely, I also don't need to mention the number of times HE tried to get his hands on the magazine, regardless of how many times I reminded HIM "it's worth more sealed!"
Well I got so tired of keeping an eye on this sealed copy, that I hid it. In fact, I hid it so well, I can't find it!

Which brings me to my son...I told him that the day I die, to scour the house in search of Farrah. Along with his brother, he has the choice to sell it one day or sit back, with a few brewskies and check out the legendary Farrah! Meanwhile, I have been keeping an eye on Ebay for the mag's current going rate. No one has it sealed on Ebay and the price is set at $26US.

Indeed, time will tell!

Say my name, say my name....

Things that make you go hmmmmmmmmmm....
One mundane morning, I decided to pick up my voicemail. I think there must have been a half dozen messages. Don't go thinking I am popular and all. It's more along the lines of "can't be bothered listening to the recordings". I digress...

One particular message got my attention. I think I must have played it back a dozen times. The voice, on the over played message, was that of my x-hubby. For nineteen years, I have heard this man call me by my nickname. Yet on this glorious morning, he called me by my name. It sounded absurd, awkward and very strange. He seemed to have struggled with it too.
Was this yet another reminder of a marriage gone wrong or was this more for my amusement?

I can tell you the following...I replayed the recording while focusing on my reaction, feelings and mindset. I didn't realize to what extent I was disengaged and disconnected from this man, I once called my husband.

I have discovered something of great meaning to me. I never realized to what extent one's name has value. In my suddenly single chapter in life, the relevance and importance of hearing a man call my name is of great importance to me. You would be surprised to know that I have witnessed a great many men who seem uncomfortable voicing a girl's name while chatting (happily or angrily for that matter) or making love. I find myself having to constantly remind my date,my friend or my lover how I enjoy hearing my name, as opposed to generically leading me into a conversation.

Seriously, is it too much for which to ask?

Nostalgia

Nostalgia is a seductive liar. - George W Ball

How true is that aphorism? When an event marks our minds, we have a tendency to hold on to the positive memories and conveniently release the distasteful ones. As a result, we walk around this planet remembering only the moments that took our breath away, feelings which pulled on our hearts, and memories forever haunting us. Yet we rarely acknowledge the difficulties and pain that occurred in those same events or moments. How convenient? (Church Lady)

A few weeks back, I had an exchange with a friend who was experiencing her own sense of nostalgia, looking back at choices she made and how those same choices affected her current state in life. Very hard to think back to days gone by and remember some of the challenges we faced with a friend, a lover, or a family member. Nostalgia “is a seductive liar”. Perhaps, if we choose to play this game, we should consider keeping journal entries of the good, the bad and the evil to help the ever-forgiving mind to remember the truth.

On a personal level, I seem to be having ongoing nostalgic moments. In some cases, my journals have proven to be quite handy, while in other situations, I find myself looking back with glossy eyes and dreamy states, grappling with “what ifs”…
I came across this piece of music, not so long ago. I was never a fan of Yanni. However, there is an instrument that sits center stage. It’s the duduk, an old Armenian musical instrument. It has a haunting sound which seems to resonate well with that good old sense of nostalgia…
Happy listening to all you, drowning in NOSTALGIA!

Games people play...

....If one were to describe pain...the song below would be it!

I thought that by the time my forties would kick in, life would start making sense, folks around me would stop playing mind games, people's words would have weight, truth and meaning....most importantly, the drama would be kept to a minimum, so as to enjoy the short gift of life we have on this planet. Instead, I find myself encountering folks who seem to think life is all about twisted moments, stolen adventures, this constant game of cat and mouse and searching for that next high....

I have had the pleasures of wild chases in life and the comfort of warmth, safety and dependability...perhaps I am too mature for my own good...but I would choose a drama free zone more often than this perpetual state of dis-ease.

Random thoughts

Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.
-- Mark Twain

Often times I am told by close friends and family members that I am too bold for my own good. My standard line back to each and every one of them is the following:
I can't deal with regrets, should haves and could haves. When I am faced with any situation in life, I make it a point "to leave no stone unturned"; this way, deep inside my heart, I know I tried my best and went boldly after it. If I succeeded then all the better for all my efforts and if I failed...then so be it. My motto: No regrets.

Interestingly enough, through an outsider's eyes, my actions are seen as a lack of pride or self-concept or belief in my self-worth. Here's the thing, ultimately one day, we all die. Would you prefer lying in that casket with all your pride intact and your stubborn beliefs about your worth nestled in that listless heart of yours or would you rather see your soul smile, knowing it tried, expressed and pursued all your wants and wishes?

Just my two cents...