and a hang-glider just sailed across the river and landed on the opposite shore.
Annabelle is engrossed in her book, and Mike is plugged into his iPod. I have a magazine on my lap, but I can't get into it for fear I'll miss out on the fabulous scenery as I learn "10 Ways to Banish Belly Bulge." I'm sure my flab will still be with me on the return flight to the States, so I think I'll save the reading for then.
I know I said I probably wouldn't be blogging much while on vacation, but I just can't stay away. We have no big, amazing travel plans for this trip, and I want to dedicate myself to committing the tiny, every-day details to memory.
We arrived in Frankfurt on Thursday afternoon and took a train north to visit my friend Irena and her family. Visiting Irena is always a treat. Her house buzzes with activity as her 4 daughters scurry about, playing in the backyard and then racing off to tennis or music lessons. When we're with them, Mike and Annabelle get to experience some of the pleasures of German childhood, such as riding bikes to the icecream shop for Spaghetti Eis. It was at Irena's, in fact, where they were bitten by the unicycle bug almost 2 years ago.
The food at Irena's is always amazing. We linger over a breakfast of boiled eggs and Brötchen topped with slices of meat and cheese or nice, thick layers of butter and homemade strawberry jam. For the chocolate-minded among us, there are always croissants and a jar of Nutella.
It's Spargelzeit (asparagus time) in Germany, and I have eaten as much as I can hold 2 nights in a row. Irena took us shopping for Spargel yesterday, and I was awestruck by an amazing machine that takes each stalk and passes it through a lineup of blades and jets of water, shooting it out the other end ready to be cooked. It takes me 30 minutes to peel the number of stalks this machine can dispense with in 60 seconds.
Our favorite thing to eat at Irena's though is her chicken satay. Irena comes from Indonesia and makes the best satay I've ever eaten. Mike tried to break the satay-eating record of 22 skewers, which is currently held by an Australian tennis player. He gave up after 18 skewers though, the better to save room for Spaghetti Eis. Annabelle was surprisingly close on his heels, polishing off 12 skewers on her own.
Our visit to Irena's also gave me a chance to pour a little oil on my rusty German skills. I always feel so stupid and vulnerable when I travel to France, where my knowledge of the native language is limited to a few obscene phrases my cousin Julie taught me. Here in Germany, I get frustrated with myself when I screw up adjectival endings, but when it comes down to it, I know enough to order a drink, book a ticket, and point out to the German man sitting in my reserved place on the train that while he is indeed in the proper seat number, he is in the WRONG wagon.
When we got on this train, we were seated near 4 young men who were in the World Cup spirit, with German flags painted on their faces and flags draped around their shoulders like capes. I planned on taking their picture, but they got off the train in Cologne while I was in the dining car picking up snacks. The whole country is consumed with World Cup fever, however, and I promise I will do my best to get some good shots of it. In the meantime, let me offer a picture of Max, one of our fellow passengers, who got very anxious each time his master left him to go to the smoking car for a breath of not-so-fresh air:
We have less than an hour left on this journey, so I'm going to put my notebook away and focus on the vineyards outside my window:
Nächste Halt Mannheim!
- We saw this cool archaelogical dig from the train window.
- Go here to see all the photos I uploaded today.
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