The intellectual equivalent of a ham sandwich.

Posts tagged ‘Weekly Wacko’

OK Travelers, Munich – Part 1

Recently the old ball and chain and I made our way to Europe for a two week trip (11 sightseeing days). It had its ups and downs, and I’d like to share some of our adventuring about because it’s fun for me to recall the trip.

We flew from Denver to Munich, via Toronto, on Air Canada. Air Canada was nice and I packed in a lot of movies – Suicide Squad (awful), Batman v Superman (not good but not as bad as the anti-hype train painted it), Deadpool (enjoyed it but a little awkward to watch on an airplane), the latest Jason Bourne movie (enjoyable mindless action) and Sarah Prefere Le Course (French Canadian movie … enjoyable but the ending was one of those that just happens). Maybe others? I don’t know. I also have no idea which ones I watched on the way there vs the way back, it all sort of blends together.

Two days before our trip began the incident in Berlin where a man drove a truck into a Christmas market happened. That was an awful event and some families will forever live with grief because of it, and some people’s lives have been brutally cut short. On a selfish note, this led to heightened concerns and worries for my wife and I. I don’t think I tend to be an unaware traveler, but I took screen shots of all the embassy locations before we left, and tried to stay very aware and think of how I would exit any place as quickly as possible. My wife was worried about Christmas markets (something we wanted to see as part of our trip) and I was worried about trains (they are just so easy to get on and off with however many bags you can carry and no checks of baggage contents).

Thankfully, our worries amounted to nothing and we had no death threats that panned out.

 December 21/22

We left on December 21 in the morning and arrived on December 22 in the morning (hello confused bodies). We made our way to our hotel (ignoring my fears above, I love how prevalent and easy to use trains can be) and promptly took a much longer than we meant to nap. We woke up hungry, tired, and excited to see a little bit of Munich. But mostly hungry. And tired.

munich-3Our coats donned we headed to a coffee shop we had noticed while walking from the train station to the hotel – Coffee Fellows. I was all prepared in my head, “zwei kaffee, bitte, und uh … zwei … brot?” We wanted coffee and bagels but I had no idea how to say bagels, pointing is an international language, but also English is fairly international. My American brain can appreciate that.

I think only twice in the whole trip did I stumble through German (Munich, Lucerne in Switzerland and Vienna in Austria all speak German). I knew that I probably didn’t need to worry about learning German, I assumed I would need my 2 year old vocabulary at least a handful of times, but I didn’t even need it that much.

Our hotel was not far from Marienplatz, where a big Christmas market, Chriskindlmarkt, was located. We left from our quick meal and headed there. It was beautiful. St. Michael’s Church (St. Michael Kirche) with a huge, beautiful tree dominated the view. In front of them were temporary booths – nice looking, wooden temporary booths (a leap above the carny kind of temporary booth). I took picture after picture trying to capture how beautiful it all was – the shining ornaments hanging from booths, the smell of the gluhwein (a spiced, warm wine – sounds gross, tastes warm and occasionally delicious), the beautiful buildings, the upbeat and happy and kind mood that surrounded us.

We wandered from stand to stand, taking in the sights, picking out items to come back and buy later (a more difficult task than we realized, because finding the same booth was not always easy). (For more pictures of the beauty of the stands, go here to a previous post.)

For dinner we popped in a restaurant, Ratskeller, and enjoyed some incredibly delicious traditional German food. Oh yes, my friends, I miss that. And the beer. Oh such tasty beer.

December 23

We slept in late, later than we intended, and ended up getting coffee, juice, and a breakfast on the go from the train station. (I had a vanilla croissant … all the little bakeries there are wonderful – I don’t want to stereotype, but I think Europeans have bread at a higher level of deliciousness than most.) We boarded a train and headed to Dachau. From the Dachau main station we hopped on a bus to get to the site of the concentration camp (for future travelers – basic tip, follow the tourists).

I won’t spend much time recapping the visit to the concentration site because I don’t think I could do it justice. I will say two things, though.

dachau

One is that it wasn’t as depressing as I thought it would be. We arrived and walked into a building which has large poster after large poster full of facts. By the time you finish walking through that building your brain is inundated with information. To me, the Holocaust Memorial in Boston is more moving and depressing (the glass cubes with the numbers on them and a few quotes) because it is so stark. I think that creating a museum that is both informational and impactful is challenging, but I felt like the amount of data took away from the sadness of the place and what it was once used for. After walking through that building we walked around the grounds and you can easily visualize just how many buildings were there, stuffed with people suffering such incomprehensible cruelty, and that was powerful.

Thought two came before the trip. I began thinking about how Germany has concentration camps that are internationally known places to visit, to wonder at, to be disgusted by, and to learn from. I can’t think of an equivalently known slavery museum in the United States. It seems like that could be a museum that would be powerful, and important in teaching people about history. This could be my own ignorance and there very well may be a museum that serves just such a purpose, I just know that I have toured an old plantation or two and it was not built around showing slavery but the architecture of the plantation itself.

After the Dachau tour we had lunch at a little café in town and then I wanted us to walk to a castle. We got there at 4:05 pm to discover that it had closed at 4 pm. Dagnabit. It was a foggy day that was ripe for mystery laying behind every corner, which made the walk back to the train station seem a little more discombobulating.

Back in Munich, we rested at the hotel for a bit before heading out to once again marvel at the Christmas markets (talk about a switch from Dachau). This time we went along a different route to see different booths, and we stumbled on a beautiful decoration which ended up causing us countless grief (a large wooden scene – trip lesson #1 – when you buy a whole bunch of stuff at the first destination of your trip, MAIL IT HOME! Instead we lugged it around which was less than delightful). Somehow, the wooden decoration appeared to survive the trip, so that is good.

We had dinner at a Pizzeria, which was actually a very upscale looking Italian restaurant. I guess the word pizzeria does not mean chill pizza joint like it does here. The food? Ok. The beer? Oh you know it was delicious.

munich-18-1

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Continuing on the Path of the Toast

(Obviously the spoken version deviated a bit, you know, nerves and all that.)

An Apology to my Future Potential Children

I imagine it might be confusing to listen to me apologize to hypothetical people.

Why, you might be asking, am I apologizing? Apologizing for something I haven’t yet done? Shouldn’t I just NOT do these things I need to apologize for?

Good questions. All very good. Allow me to tell you a story.

When I was in the 7th grade my dad came down to the basement where I was playing video games and said, “let’s play a baseball game.” I imagine that this statement was preceded by a brief conversation between my dad and mom, “You need to spend more time with DumbFunnery.” And my dad, in an eloquent response, probably said, “mm.”

There we were, in the basement, playing this baseball game.

I don’t remember too many different times that we sat there and played because each instance was so much like the other instances. Part of that was because my dad and I are routine-oriented people. But this one particular night stands out because of something I realized.

My dad was up to bat and doing his usual thing. Letting the first pitch go by while he sipped a beer. He never told me to do the same thing, but it was implied by him explaining his strategy, “you have to let the starting pitcher wear himself down. Get the pitch count up.” If you swing on the first pitch and get out, this pitcher will be fresh as a daisy and that’s no good. The second pitch would go by and one more sip might be taken. And if I didn’t follow the strategy, he would explain it again. And again. It’s a pretty effective way to get your point across.

The third pitch was pretty much always a ball because the game had a predictable AI. And finally on the fourth pitch my dad would swing, often resulting in an, “AGH!” Which meant he struck out, popped out, grounded out, whatever it was .. he was out.

On this particular night my 7th grade brain was feeling cocky. I thought to myself, “he sounds like a monkey with those crazy noises he makes.” And I just knew I was about to get a hit.

I let pitch one go by. Pitch two comes, I keep with my dad’s strategy, pitch three is of course a ball and pitch four … “AGH!”

What.

I just made the EXACT same noise. I had limitless options but I chose the exact same approach, and when the opportunity came it resulted in the exact same thing.

I. Am. My. Dad. This was heavy news for my 7th grade brain.

Therefore, I am very qualified to apologize to hypothetical future kids – because I have been the annoyee, and now I am the annoyer. I have tried to avoid some of these things … but I think for some it’s hard-coded, and for others it’s just going to come so naturally to me I won’t realize something was frustrating til years later.

In light of the fact that I know some of my future – I’d like to go ahead and apologize for three particular things.

From as far back as I can remember until my senior year of high-school, I can tell you exactly how the morning routine went. Remember how my dad and I are routine-oriented people? I’d wake up, my dad would’ve already been awake for an hour or more, and he’d say cheerily, “good morning!” and I’d say in response, “num-morning.” Usually following that my dad would do an impression of me and then laugh. And occasionally I might be treated to a , “what’s for breakfast? Cereal? Sounds pretty good!”

My freshman year of college a switch flipped. Suddenly I couldn’t be a chipper and enthusiastic enough morning person. Late to class? Woah buddy, better hustle huh? Dribbled while eating cereal in the cafeteria with me? Hey there mister, you missed your mouth!

And it’s only grown stronger. My wife, when she was growing up, had nicknames like “prickly pear” and “thundercloud.” Do you know who loves to bug her in the mornings? ME.

I … “apologize,” I suppose, for the inevitable obnoxious doses of good cheer and happiness in the mornings.

Secondly, I’d like to apologize for my phrasing. Do you know that experience when someone says something serious and you should listen attentively and respond sincerely with something intelligent … but instead you thought of a joke. And not just any joke, but something like a pun? The kind of joke that’s so bad it’s good? And who are you to deny that person this brilliant joke? So instead of something nice you say that joke?

You know that kind of … heavy, frustrated, silence? I know that. I really know that.

And my kids will know that too. Because at some point they’re going to say something where I should respond with something intelligent, and instead I’m going to crack a joke. But I also know the sound of my name being said in such a way that I get it IMMEDIATELY. My wife has crafted a tone of voice that communicates ever so clearly, “I appreciate your sense of humor, it’s one of the reasons we’re married, BUT. NOT. NOW.”

Last up … emotions. I know. They’re scary.

I am capable of experiencing emotions. In fact, at different points in my life, I have experienced all five three. Just kidding, I know there are only two.

I’m going to be Mr. Even Keel, and if there is something emotionally-charged to talk about, my wife will be a much better audience. That doesn’t mean I can’t listen or that I don’t want to listen, it’s just that I might say something like a heartfelt, “sorry buddy” in response to a big, long, emotional story. Whereas my wife’s eyes will reflect every emotion, her jaw will drop, she’ll throw in an occasional “NO!” while you talk about something awful.

I’m going to work on that, I’m going to try and be there for you emotionally … But that’s not going to come easy for me. But just know that I will comfort you in my own ways. I’ll crack dumb jokes, I’ll be silly or a clown for you, because that’s going to be easier and much more natural for me than finding the right words to comfort you.

Heck, I don’t even know those words for myself, but I do know about ice cream. And so will you.

Why the speech, then? Why bother apologizing for things that I’m sort of, kind of, not actually apologizing for at all?

Why apologize for my chipper am self? For laughing as I watch kids make their way to the kitchen, mummy-like, seemingly having just arisen from the grave?

Why apologize for my sometimes unwanted quips for all occasions?

Why apologize for stumbling through emotions and being an emotionally reticent person in general?

Well, it’s because I truly AM sorry for the times these parts of me will be annoying.

In the end, I want to be a good person, which will hopefully one day include trying to be a good dad, and this is the way I was taught to do it, and I happened to like my teachers.

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Student of the Toast

Recently I joined Toastmasters … If you knew me (and if you’re reading this you likely do), you’ll know that’s not an expected move. I don’t particularly like public speaking unless I do well. Toastmasters, hopefully, will increase the odds of me doing well. Thus, the reason I signed up!

(Nah, the real reason? I am new to an area and this is always when I’m my most social and outgoing. What better way to meet people than to stand in front of them and say um a lot?)

The first speech you give in Toastmasters is an “ice breaker.” The objective is just to stand up in front of a group of people and talk, and the secondary objective is to see where you stand as far as public speaking goes. I was told that I need to vary my pace and add pauses. Apparently I speak like one of those ‘text to talk’ computer programs?

Because I am a lazy blogger I will most likely be posting my speeches … why go to all that effort and then just share with one audience?

Anywho. Here I is, folks, this is I.

***

Ladies and gentlemen, my name is DumbFunnery, and today I will be talking to you about … myself.

When I thought about the icebreaker speech I wondered what would make the most sense – a bunch of facts summarizing my life?, some of my favorite short stories about my friends and me?, there are a lot of ways you can introduce yourself to a group of people.

In the end I decided to describe myself by telling you what I would consider to be an amazing weekend. I now transport you to the magical place of Saturday morning, 6:30 am, in the land of ideal DumbFunnery.

I’m up and dressed for a jog, eating a banana that is at the perfect ripeness. A perfectly ripe banana is a wonderful thing. I’m also sipping water and doing a bit of stretching – today is an easy day. I am capable of jogging let’s say 16 miles, but today I’m only doing 10. I head out the door, turn on my phone to a new CD that is some funky, poppy goodness, and I’m going. Today’s jog is fantastic – it’s one of those ones where I’m in a groove, my pace is awesome and I feel like I could just go and go.

When I get back home I have my favorite granola cereal, which is difficult since it’s this one that a local grocery chain in Texas makes, but my in-laws are kind people and they have recently visited and brought a few boxes to feed my addition. I have my cereal with some blueberries in it, watching the local news and laughing at how corny they can be.

After breakfast I bathe and sit down to write for a little bit. Normally at work I focus more on the logical side of my brain, writing allows me to be weird and nonsensical, which is fun. Today the words are flowing out of me and before I know it I have something that is actually pretty good! All right! It’s weird, I think it’s funny, and it flows well. Not too shabby.

Following that my wife and I have lunch and scheme on our afternoon – finishing up a house project. We have a house and are slowly learning how to do this and that, and today we have the last piece of a project that is great, and grand and … most importantly, within our limited reach.

Many high-fives, and of course Facebook posts later and we are heading out or hosting friends for dinner and a board game or two. We have a good night talking, playing games, and soon enough we’ve been laughing and smiling so much that our mouths hurt.

Then it’s bedtime and suddenly it’s Sunday. Because this is an ideal weekend we are our good, ambitious selves, and we have signed up for a volunteer project. If it’s my choice it’s something manual or working with kids, if it’s my wife’s choice it might be a food bank. Or maybe we’re handing out water at a run, cheering folks on, and also jealous that we’re not taking part (or, depending on the run, happy we aren’t taking part).

Realistically, at this point or some point we would have had to go run some typical errands that are magical time warps. You enter a grocery store with two items on the list and you leave forty-five minutes later with twenty things. How does this happen? But don’t worry, we’re in an ideal land.

Instead of running errands we head straight home and enjoy coffee and the news. Or coffee and a book. Or coffee and sitting around talking. Whatever it is, we’re sipping coffee and relaxing.

At the time I’m toward the end of a book that I have been enjoying so much I can’t put it down, but at the same time I don’t want to finish it. It’s either hysterical, or gripping, or it’s making me think thoughts I hadn’t thought to think before.

I finish the book and sit back and breathe out a deep sigh. I read one time that after you read something you shouldn’t immediately jump to doing something else – especially if you are trying to learn what you just read, or if it’s a complicated matter you need to let your brain digest for a while.

I think a lot of weekends suffer from time travel, and this one is no exception. It’s dinner time suddenly and while getting dinner ready I think back on the afternoon and wonder what I did that lead to this day being so close to over.

Dinner is something simple and delicious, but the most exciting thing is the ice cream after dinner. A big bowl of ice cream is a long time friend of mine, and we have spent many nights together. And to go with that ice cream is a quirky, oddball movie that is sweet.

There you have it. Me in the form of an ideal weekend – there’s jogging, writing, reading, helping people, adding to our house, being with friends, and also a good chunk of non-activity. I think, with love as the theme of the week, this whole weekend represents doing things that I love.

Thank you.

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