The glare

This afternoon, we joined my neighbor Anna and her daughter Jonna for some playtime at our local playground. Even the older kids like zooming down the zipline and flying down the huge slide (don't forget -- throwing sand down before you makes you go faster!).

When it was time to go, I put Rebecca's sandals back on her feet and only when I stood up did I realize I had put them on the wrong feet. Oh well, we only had a 4-minute walk home where she would take them off right away, plus she usually puts them on the wrong feet anyway and it doesn't seem to bother her. Why switch them now? With a shrug of the shoulders, I turned around and we all started heading home.

I was chatting away with Anna when I heard someone call out. There was a mom with her kids standing next to Becca calling out something to me. I walked back to her and she said, "Your daughter's shoes are on the wrong feet," pointing down at Rebecca's sandals. "Yes, I know," I answered in German with an embarrassed smile, "I did that. It's OK. Come on, Rebecca." Her eyebrows shot up and she proceeded to bend down and touch first Becca's left foot, then her right, repeating more slowly this time, "Her shoes are on the wrong feet." I repeated, "Yes. I know. But it's OK." As I turned away from her, it happened.

Now, I have heard about this happening to several of my American friends here and have read about it on other ex-pat blogs, but it had never happened to me before. I was on the receiving end of a German glare of disapproval. This woman's eyes first widened in disbelief, then she shook her head and shot me the glare. I don't think I could replicate the power of that look. It actually sent a shiver down my spine.

Rebecca made it home in one piece but the memory of that glare stuck with me. It surely won't be the last time it happens and I'm not looking forward to experiencing it again. I've decided that it would be an excellent weapon to use on my own children at certain times. I just may begin practicing it.....

Kung Fu Panda meets Napoleon Dynamite

For the past year, if we wanted to see a current movie in English, we needed to drive all the way in to Frankfurt where there is a theatre that shows foreign movies in their original versions. Germans love American and British movies, but prefer them dubbed. It's a bit of a drive to get to that particular cinema, parking can be an issue and the screens can be tiny (maybe 8' x 3'). The kids have only gone there a few times and I have never been. But, we recently found out that the movie theatre close to us will have showings for one movie a week in the original language. This week it was Kung Fu Panda. Micaela, James, Emilie and I piled into the car for the 8-minute drive to the Kinopolis.

Only when we got there did I realize that this was the first time I had been to a movie theatre since we moved here. And yes, things can be different. While purchasing our tickets for the OV showing, we were asked where we wanted to sit. At the puzzled look I gave him, our cashier smiled and said, "I'll give you the seats in the top row. They're the best." What??? He printed our tickets and then I got it. We had assigned seats. Assigned seats in a movie theater. What if everyone wanted the best possible seats? Would we all be cramped together? But, really, with one showing in English and eight in German that day, how many people would be coming to the English one?

We needed popcorn. This was a special occasion. I ordered the popcorn-drink combo and was asked, "Do you want that salted or sweet?" Oh.. that's right. Europeans often like their popcorn sweetened, but we're not that assimilated. There was no butter, but salt would do.

We entered the theatre and were the first people there. Our seats were all the way at the top in the middle and we were sure to sit in the correct ones. So, we sat there a while, munching on popcorn and tapping out the beat to the disco music playing from the speakers. Down below us was the screen, covered by a curtain with lights shining up from the floor (there was no raised stage). Well, between the music and the setting down below, James was inspired.

He bounded down the aisle and then posed in front of the curtain, head bowed, hands in his pockets, all illuminated by the lights. On the beat be began doing the Napoleon Dynamite dance. He did several of the steps and then stopped and ran back up to us as Micaela, Emilie and I howled in our seats. James ran back down to do it again and this time added in some of the funnier dance moves.

We were chuckling when the unthinkable happened. In walked an older couple. We called out "James!" to get him to stop, but he couldn't hear us above the beat of the disco music. He just continued his dancing, oblivious to the additional audience members. When we could catch our breath from laughing so hard, we would call out his name, "James!". It was not out of the realm of possibilities for this older couple to reprimand us for James' inappropriate impromptu recital. They did glance around to see what we were yelling at and seemed surprised to see James in front of the curtain gyrating a bit, but they didn't crack a smile nor glare at us and seemed more focused on finding their seat assignments. He finally heard us and scampered sheepishly up the aisle to our seats where we giggled some more, but at a lower volume.

There ended up being maybe 25 other people in the theatre, and we were not on top of each other. A short drive, an amusing dance by my son, a funny movie in English,...not a bad way to spend an evening.

Freibad

Today we went to a pool located just a short 10 minute drive away. The weather is already getting iffy, with many cooler days, so we wanted to get in a nice swim day before it was too late.

I had been to the Bad Soden Freibad one other time with my friend Kathy and one issue I had concerned what swim diapers were required. Rebecca has been fully potty trained for months now, but most pools in America require one type of swim diaper or another up to the age of 4. Was there a certain type of swim diaper required and would I need to buy it there? My worries were a moot point when I got my first look at the baby pool. There were several toddlers in the baby pool with no diapers at all, no swimsuits for that matter either.


We spent several hours at the pool that day and at one point my friend Kathy said, "Take a look around. Do you notice anything strange? There's not a lifeguard in sight." And she was right, there were no lifeguard perches and no one walking around you could readily identify as a lifeguard. What a difference from our outdoor YMCA pool back in Alpharetta that had at least 8 life guards on duty at a time, and that pool complex was 1/2 the size of this one.

Today was on the chilly side, the complex was pretty empty and there were two fellows who seemed to be lifeguards patrolling the pool and other areas. The kids were happy that there was no line for going down this awesome slide. Some other boys around James' age joined them and we noticed something odd going on at the base of the slide when they would finish. They would pull up their swim trunks. Was the slide that strong that it would pull down their suits? But then we realized what was going on. At the top of the slide, the boys would pull down the backs of their trunks. Their bare bums would make them zoom down the slide at lightening speed. After a while, some of the boys didn't even bother pulling their suits back up for the quick trip back up the stairs. There were bums everywhere! And you know my kids -- one of them, who shall remain nameless, just had to try this sliding technique and confirmed that bare was better!

Our little hedgehog

We only got back to Germany yesterday, but we needed to do some shopping right away for Rebecca as she began Kindergarten (preschool) today. The supply list for German Kindergarten is a bit different from the list you get for American preschool. We needed to buy house slippers (which most kids wear around their own houses), gymnastic slippers, a raincoat, rain pants and rain boots. "So," I said to David as our items were being rung up at the register, "I guess rain will be no deterrent to playing outside." He answered, "I guess not."

In Germany, Kindergarten begins when a child turns three and is pretty much all year round, every day of the week. Because it is subsidized by the government, it is very inexpensive. For the first few months, we've signed Rebecca up for the short day, from as early as 7:30am to as late as 1:30pm. We may switch her to the longer day in a few months where I can pick her up around 3:30pm. And, yes, the entire day will be in German. Since Rebecca doesn't speak much English and is so young, we're not too concerned. She'll figure it out.

This morning, we took the five-minute walk to the Ritterwiesen (Field of Knights) Kindergarten where Becca is in the Igel Gruppe (Hedgehog Group). The cheerful director took Becca by the hand and led her to her room, calling out "Ein neuer Igel! Ein neuer Igel ist hier!" ("A new hedgehog! A new hedgehog is here!") We changed her into her house slippers and said goodbye. Rebecca seemed a little surprised that we were leaving, but handled it OK.

Her teacher told us at the end of the day that she did just fine and played with other kids. I'm praying it continues to go well. With the older kids in school in a few weeks and Rebecca in preschool, I will have mornings to myself for the first time in years.

A first day gummi bear treat for einen neuen Igel. Hedgehogs, a protected species, are beloved in Germany.

Home again, home again, jiggity jig

Five day was just not going to be a long enough visit. There were still friends the kids did not get to spend time with and people we grown-ups wanted to see as well. So, why not extend our visit 2 days, leaving for Germany on Friday instead of on Wednesday, as originally planned? I knew one big reason why not: trying to fly with confirmed seats (standby really) on a Friday is a terrible idea. Fridays and Sundays are notoriously bad days for standby passengers. But David checked the flight and said it looked very good. So, I agreed, albeit reluctantly, and Wednesday afternoon found the older kids thrilled to be at our former neighbors the Honeys for a sleepover, David having lunch with colleagues from work and me just relaxing reading a book I got from our Borders shopping spree.

Then came the phone call. David called from the car at 3:30 and said, "I just got a horrible phone call from work. Lufthansa employees are striking in Germany and the flights from Atlanta to Frankfurt are canceled Thursday and Friday (also Sunday we would discover)." This would mean that we would probably not get out of Atlanta for almost another week. David needed to be at work Monday and we didn't want to overstay our welcome with friends. So, I said, "OK, when is the flight today?" David replied, "6:00pm." "Well," I sighed, "Let's get moving."

Somehow, I still don't quite understand how we did it, we got packed, tore a tearful Micaela and James away from their friends Devynn and Jared, said our goodbyes, got in the car and were headed into rush hour Atlanta traffic within 1/2 hour. We had two hours to take what I figured would be a 1-1/2 hour trip to the airport, return the rental car, check our luggage, get through security, board the little airport transport train and arrive at the gate. Would we make it? And all I could think was, "Everyone who is trying to fly from Atlanta to Frankfurt on Lufthansa in the next 5 days is going to be there. Even if we make it in time, we won't get on the flight."

It was bumper to bumper through Atlanta and I thought, "That's it. At what point do we give up and just head back to our friends' house and skip this needless trip to the airport?" Then a colleague of David's called and suggested that we just leave our rental car in hourly parking and he would drive down to the airport and return it for us if we got on the flight. Hmmm, that would save us 30 minutes. Then traffic cleared up quite a bit. Was the impossible going to turn out to be possible?

We checked our luggage at the counter and the agent said, "I can't make you any promises, but right now you have seats." Amazing. We figure David got inside information about the flights being canceled that hadn't yet made it to the paying passengers. We got to the gate quickly and boarded immediately. The kids were miffed that they had to sit in coach and couldn't see the movie over the tops of the seats. It was a stupid drama for grown-ups anyway.

For some odd reason, and I never question the mysterious workings of the universe when they are to my benefit, I was assigned the only Business Class seat for the six of us. David told me to just take it and believe me, he didn't have to say it twice. I got to watch the film of my choice and lounge quite comfortably while David sat in the back with his four children. After the flight, two people approached him to compliment him on how well behaved his four children were. David didn't bother to tell them that it was because they were exhausted from so many sleepovers and crestfallen at having to leave Atlanta early.

Impressions of the United States

We've been having a great time in the Atlanta area visiting with good friends and shuttling our kids around to see their much-missed buddies. Having been away for almost a year (for the most part), we couldn't help but be struck by certain things here on American soil:

* Micaela and James, immediately upon exiting our plane at the airport, sighed and said, "Ah, signs in English! It's so great!"

* Beginning our long drive in the Washington suburbs, we noticed how shiny, new and rectangular all the big office buildings were.

* At a McDonald's for breakfast the following mornings, the egg biscuit I ordered tasted like it had been rolled in salt (It very well may have been. You sell more orange juice that way).

* In the Atlanta area, the size of the cars was striking. In Germany, you have minivans (usually small ones) and SUVs (regular sized ones), but sedans are still the norm. In this area, it seemed like 90% of the cars were large minivans or absolutely humongous SUVs.

* Seeing the $4.00 gas price as the gas stations was new since we left, though we pay almost $9.00 a gallon for gas in Germany. It's less meaningful when signs say 1.53 Euros per liter.

* American kitchen sinks are huge! I've gotten quite used to my tiny little sink and I noticed the sinks in every house I visited.

* Why are there so many cars on the road at 10:30am on a weekday right around the neighborhood where we used to live?

* Germans do have cell phones, but I have yet to see a German walking through the grocery store, shouting into his/her cellphone or wireless headset.

* My meal at Applebee's was disappointingly over-salted, but my chicken sandwich from Chik-fil-A was just a good as I remember.

* We stayed with friends who are avid recyclers. Whatever does not get picked up by the recycling truck (such as cardboard) gets brought to a recycling center. Compared to what we recycle in Germany (where virtually all packaging is recyclable and by law you must recycle), it still seemed like we threw away a lot of stuff while we were visiting.

* The weather was really hot. In Germany in the summer, it'll be 85 degrees one day and 65 degrees a few days later.

* We really miss having a Target and Kohl's nearby. We miss the selection, convenience and great prices. We got all of our school clothes shopping done within a 4-mile round-trip drive. We also planned ahead and brought 2 empty suitcases.

So, what exactly does " confirmed seats" mean?

Grandma and Grandpa left Tuesday the day after we returned from our trip, and they arrived home safely and with no stand-by problems. It was time for us to get ready for our week-long trip home to Atlanta and the flight was the following day, this past Wednesday. The evening before, David said, after sitting at the computer, "Well, the flight looks good tomorrow." Looks good? I replied, "Why does it matter how the flight looks? We have confirmed seats." We had indeed received an e-mail from Lufthansa with our seat assignments, so why was David checking on seat availability for our flight? His surprising answer was, "Well, they can always take us off the flight if a paying passenger needs a seat."

What?!!! I didn't know that. This is really just one step up from stand by and you all know how I feel about flying stand by, particularly with 4 kids.

It was with no small amount of trepidation that we loaded the family into a taxi the next morning and checked our luggage in at the counter. The agent didn't have much to tell us, but when we checked in at the gate, the agent there right away said, "I need to tell you right now that we are probably going to need to take you all off this flight....blah, blah blah. Overbooked, paying passengers, blah, blah, blah."

Just great. The kids were in tears as we exited the airport, took a taxi back home and did the walk of shame back into our house. We had said goodbye to several of our neighbors just a few hours before and felt a little sheepish explaining why we were back.

Once back home, I had to tell James that I could understand that he was upset, but that his moaning and groaning was getting to be annoying and I didn't want to hear it anymore.

The next thing I knew, James was sitting the table eating lunch with this note taped to his shirt. I guess this way, I didn't have to "hear" it anymore.

A half hour later, he turned it over and wrote this new note. We all felt the same way.

The next morning, David said the flight looked much better, so off we went yet again to the airport. Imagine our surprise when we went to check in and were told that Lufthansa had switched this flight to a smaller aircraft and they could tell us right away that we weren't getting on. The flights the next day didn't look good. So, we decided to try the Washington flight. We could always then catch one of the many flights down to Atlanta.

We were pleasantly surprised that we got on the Washington flight, and in Business Class to boot. Immediately upon landing, David checked on the flights to Atlanta and it looked hopeless. Rather than getting a hotel room and trying tomorrow and risk losing yet another day trying to get home, we opted to rent a van and drive the 11 hours down to Atlanta.

At least our kids were used to driving 12 or 13 hours for trips to visit family, so it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to drive 5 hours, spend the night at a motel and drive 6 more hours the next morning after spending 9 hours flying across the Atlantic. And no one complained that they didn't have a DVD player to occupy them during the drive. They were too excited to finally be just hours away from seeing their friends.