2:55am

“You can only come to the morning through the shadows.” ~J.R.R. Tolkien

May 2, 2013 (Continued)

Prague Ruzyne Airport doesn’t even open until 4:00am. Not that is an interesting point to consider. The airport closes. It doesn’t close in the sense of “lock the doors and everyone go home” but it does close. All of the check-in counters close. All of the restaurants close. Security closes. There are no flights in or out between a certain time range.

There were a handful of people milling around the terminal. Several homeless people were lying across the benches. A few over-egger travelers like myself had also arrived early. Then entire room was so quiet, you could practically hear each other breathing.

I found one café that was open and got a blueberry muffin and some English breakfast tea. I’d known I was going to have some extra time at the airport (I had no idea how much extra time) so I’d made arrangements to Skype my friend James. Booting up my iPod, I gave him a call.

We talked until he had to go eat dinner. I told him I’d call him back once I got through security (to kill the remaining 2 hours I was going to have.) While I waited, I texted with Bryan—I don’t care if it makes me sound like an American, a teenager, or what, but having reliable WiFi is a wonderful thing.

The check-in desk opened at 4:00. I was the first and only person in line. Presenting my passport, they printed my boarding pass. A kindergartener with a crayon could have produced a more professional looking document. It was very basic wit just my name, my flight number, the gate number, and my seat assignment (a window!)

I went to security where again I was the first and only person in line. I presented my passport and my boarding pass to the woman. She studied it, and then looked over to the other guards. She looked back at my passport, then back to them. It seemed like she wanted to call them over. After several awkward seconds of staring at each other, she let me through. That was when I realized, they didn’t have any of the scanners turned on; she was holding me to give them more time.

I put my things into a bin on the conveyor belt. They had me wait for a few more minutes to make sure the machine was all the way on. Once it activated, I passed through with no problem and made my way down to gate C7 (across from where I’d taken off for Switzerland.)

All of the escalators and moving sidewalks were switched off for the night. Only the emergency lighting was on, and much of the terminal was still dark. I walked down several hallways without seeing another person.

At the gate, I found an outlet to plug in my iPod, and called James back. He had done a little research on Smartwings for me. It turned out, that since I arrived in Prague on Feburary 8^th, the airline has had two different crashes. Both of them occurred during take off out of Prague Ruzyne International Airport.

James and I hadn’t talked in a while so I got him caught up on my adventures in Amsterdam and in Zurich. We laughed at the fact that apparently stupid Americans were the only people who showed up at the airport 2 hours before a flight. I had the gate to myself until almost 5:00.

As more and more people showed up, the WiFi gradually slowed down. James and I said goodbye and I hung up. Putting away my iPod, I noticed all the different languages and accents that were flying to Paris. They seemed to be mostly Czech and French (not a lot of Europeans travel at 5am unless they have to.)

French is a language that really puzzles me. The only two words I remembered from Will and Cole was “peu” (which means “little.”) They had tried to teach me how to say “I only speak a little French” but “little” was all I remembered. Mary had taught me “seva” which she said was slang, like “Ok.” Thibaut had taught me “please” (“s’il vous plait” pronounced “se-voo-pley”) but I couldn’t say it to save my life. Everyone back home had given me horror stories of the French being awful and rude to tourists who didn’t speak French.

This was going to be fun.

I journalled a bit, before I heard a boarding call. I got up to get on the plane, but no one else did. They also weren’t letting anyone on the plane. Apparently it had been a “false alarm”…?

I sent Bryan another text and he warned me that Charles Du Gaulle Airport has a reputation for being the hardest airport to navigate. More international flights are missed there than any other European airport, because of its large and erratic layout. With a “good luck” text from Bryan, I heard a real boarding call and went to get on the plane.

My seat was 22A. There wasn’t much leg room, but more than I’d had with Easyjet. I stored my bag under the seat in front of me. My foot was craned a little awkwardly and it started to hurt, but I shrugged off—not much I could do about it anyway.

As we taxied out, I had to chuckle a little thinking about the facts James had shared with me. We however had a successful take off and rapidly climbed above the still falling rain to our cruising altitude.

 

Roll of Thunder

“Life is too short, or too long, for me to allow myself the luxury of living it so badly.” ~Paulo Coelho

May 2, 2013

Knowing Paris was one of the larger cities I was going to visit, I figured I wanted an extra day to explore. My tour with WSA didn’t start until Friday morning, but I went ahead and paid a little extra for an extra night in the hostel.

Booking my airfare to Paris was a bit of a surprise. If I haven’t shared this before, I found a flight to Paris for $98 USD. It was a 5:45 departure (literally the first plane out of Prague Ruzyne Airport that morning) but I figured $98 bucks was a steal. It wasn’t until after I clicked “confirm” on the non-refundable charge to my credit card, that I discovered it was a one way ticket.

Booking a one-way ticket back to Prague was not as cheap.

The illustrious airline I was flying on to Paris was called “Smart Wings.” Based out of the Czech Republic, this company is about as organized as a bunch of lemurs dog-piling over a cliff. Similar to well-known cheap airlines (such as Ryanair, which does not fly in or out of the Czech Republic) it offers cheap seats with no additional services. One of those additional services that was cut out was online check-in. The policy stated that you must check-in, in-person no sooner than 2 hours but no later than 90 minutes before your flight.

So as I did the math, two hours before my 5:45 flight was 3:45. Knowing that it takes 90 minutes to get to the airport, and factoring in 30 minutes in case I missed one of my two transfers, I figured I should leave the dorm by 2:00 to get there.

Packing up last night, I went to bed around 10:30, with my alarm set for 1:30 so I could get the 2:00 tram. Aaron was skyping a friend from back home and moved out to the kitchen to continue his chat. I hadn’t gone to bed this early in a while, and it took me a bit to relax and drift off.

About midnight, a loud clap of thunder jolted me awake. It was the type of clatter that echoes for several seconds and makes the window panes vibrate. We’ve been having thunderstorms on and off for the last three or four days now, but nothing this late or this violent. I could hear the rain pounding the pavement outside. Within seconds, there was a flash of light followed by another loud boom.

I tried to get back to sleep, but the storm didn’t let up. After about half an hour of laying still with my eyes closed, I gave up. It was 12:45. I knew the storm would let up eventually, but I didn’t know if “eventually” meant by 2:00. In the event that I missed one of my transfers—trams and buses could either leave early or run late due to the storm—I wasn’t sure I wanted to stand out in a thunderstorm waiting for the next one.

I pulled out my Rick Steve’s travel guide. In it, he had a section on taking taxis in Prague. He said that while Prague cabbies have a reputation for over active meters, he has personally not had any trouble using them. According to him, average rates are 29KC/ kilometer plus a pick-up fee and waiting fee. I used GoogleMaps and found the airport. By my guestimate I was looking at about 790kc (roughly $40 USD).

I waited for a bit, but the storm didn’t let up. My parents were still online, so I Skyped my Dad to see what he thought. His suggestion was just to make sure I knew the fair before I got in.

When Aaron came in the room to grab something, I asked him I could use his cell phone. He gave it to me, and I called City Taxi for a 2:30 pickup.

Now that I was awake, I spent some time going through my bag to make sure I had everything. It seemed so much lighter than when I’d gone on other trips. Either I’m getting better at this, or I’m forgetting a ton of stuff.

I wrapped my ankle to give it some support, and put on my shoes. Zipping up my jacket, I headed out to wait for the taxi. The thunder had subsided, but it was still a pouring rain. I stood in front of the building under the canopy, waiting for the taxi to pull up in the circle drive.

I saw a car out of the corner of my eye driving around the neighborhood off to the side of the dorm. It looped around behind the building. Pretty soon, it came back around and parked. It was clearly lost.

I checked my watch and saw that it was almost 2:30. The car had stalled out, and briefly restarted its engine. The sound caught my eye, and I looked back up. I could faintly make out yellow letters on the window. It was a taxi.

I walked over towards it, just as it started to pull away. Waving my hand, the driver stopped and rolled down his window.

“Dobry den,” I said, which is the formal Czech greeting for people you don’t know.

“Dobry den,” he said. “Zachary?”

“Yes,” I smiled and nodded.

He pulled out his radio and said something into it in Czech. I climbed into the back seat.

“Terminal two,” I said.

“Airport?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said. “How much will that cost?”

“I don’t know,” he said. His English was pretty broken. “Probably 550 minus or plus.”

“Perfect!” I said.

We started driving.

Pulling out of the parking lot, we quickly accelerated down the road. Odd instrumental music was playing on the radio and it felt like the soundtrack to some sort of action movie chase scene. As the car went faster and faster, the music felt more and more appropriate. Despite being the only vehicle on the road, we were changing lanes frequently—apparently to pass cars that weren’t there.

Suddenly, he slapped on the breaks. With wet road, I thought we were going to hydroplane right into a building. We didn’t, and he carefully pulled off a hairpin turn.

I’d been in this neighborhood before, but I had no idea it led towards the airport. I could still make out several landmarks in the skyline, so I knew we were going the right way.

Back in the first weeks I got to Prague, I’d heard a story about a guy who took a taxi and wound up being kidnapped and led to the basement of an abandoned hotel, were some men beat him and stole his money.

For whatever reason, this story chose to come to the front of my mind right now.

Within minutes, we were crossing over a bridge, just a little bit north of the Charles Bridge. Our speed still felt unusually fast. On one hand, I appreciated his dedication to get me to the airport without wasting time. On the other hand, something about it felt very ominous.

A few minutes later, we pulled off another wheel squeaking turn and were in some strange neighborhood. The streets were dark and some of the houses boarded up. The hair on the back of my neck stood up and I curled my fingers around the strap of my backpack. Placing my thumb on the button of seat belt, I braced myself to be able to get out of the car in case this adventure took an odd turn.  

It crossed my mind that I really didn’t have anything to worry about. This guy had nothing to gain by kidnapping me or even mugging me. All of my money was well hidden so even if he took my wallet and my bag, I had taken precautions that I’d still have access to my accounts and all he’d get away would be some grubby clothes. But this guy worked for the second largest cab company in the Czech Republic. They had reputation, and he had an employee ID number on the window. These seemed fairly legit.

The roads of the neighborhood were paved with asphalt and looked much like suburban America. We took right turn after left turn. It didn’t feel like we were making circles, but I would have no idea how to retrace my way out of there.

Suddenly, we made a sharp turn and were back on a main road. Looking around, I instantly recognized the view; we were in the bus depot. The neighborhood had actually been a short cut instead of looping down by the theater like the buses do.

The next several miles of the drive were familiar to me. The odd “chase music” ended and an American song came on the radio. I couldn’t place it at first, but then I realized it was the Friends theme song (“I’ll be There for You.”) There were also more cars on this road. Now, the rapid lane changes made sense and we were passing everybody left and right. A few of the other cabbies were equally as aggressive, and I’m pretty sure we were playing chicken in a couple of construction zones.

We were soon on the highway heading towards the airport. A blue sign came into view that said the exit to Ruzyne was six kilometers ahead. As soon as we saw the sign, the cab driver took an exit. This definitely was not the six kilometers ahead that the sign had referred to—it might not have even been 10 meters.

We were soon on a little, two lane road in the middle of an agricultural field. There were no lights anywhere to be seen. We drove in complete darkness, and I couldn’t help but notice the radio was back to creepy instrumental music. When we came to a T-crossing in the road, we did yet another hair-pin turn and were now on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere.

This felt creepy again.

Within a couple of minutes, a red light popped up on the horizon. As we got closer, I could make it out as the control tower from Ruzyne airport. We turned back onto a paved road, and within just minutes, were at Terminal 2.

The driver parked the car in front of the door. Tallying up the meter, he showed it to me. “Five-hundred and fifteen.”

That was 200 crowns cheaper than I had planned on paying! Rick Steve’s encouraged tipping, especially if you felt like the price was fair. I probably over tipped him, giving him six hundred KC total (30USD) but I felt like he had done a good job—I couldn’t help but notice his English improved significantly once I gave him the tip.

As I walked through the doors of the airport, I realized that while the tram/metro/bus route to the airport is 90 minutes, a taxi ride is only 25.

I was at the airport for my 5:45 flight…and it was 2:55.

Ten Days in Two Minutes

For the past two weeks, I’ve been in Prague, studying for finals and getting ready for my final few trips around Europe. I figured blogging about the time I spent studying wouldn’t be super interesting, but there were a few adventures along the way…here are some of the highlights:

Leaving Switzerland—April 21, 2013
The gate agent called for boarding and I stowed my things into my bag. As I boarded the plane, I realized, no one had checked my passport. No one had looked at it or my boarding pass in security and no one had looked at it before I got on the flight.

At my seat (31F) I continued journaling through takeoff and most of the flight. The movie in flight was Mr. Bean and I couldn’t help but notice how people through out the plane and across cultures were cracking up at the slapstick comedy—talk about human nature!

When we landed, I gathered my things and ventured through the airport. Taking the bus to the depot, and the Metro to Wenceslas Square, I soon found myself waiting at the familiar tram stop. As I looked around, I noticed something. There were a lot of people who weren’t dressed for the weather we’d been having here locally. There were a lot of maps stumbling through the streets. There were a lot of cameras flashing in every direction. There were a lot of voices jabbering in English.

The city was crawling with tourists.

PT in Prague—April 23, 2013
I woke up this morning a little bit late. I’d been up till the wee hours of the night Skyping again so I wasn’t surprised that I’d slept through the first five minutes of my alarm clock.

I climbed out of bed, and shuffled around the dorm getting ready. The room really is becoming pretty dirty—and I’ve been known to live in a fair amount of clutter, but this is over the top for me—and there was barely enough room to lift my feet.

I grabbed my bag and raced out of the room. As soon as I was out of the room and could take a real step, my right leg went out from under me. I caught myself of the railing of the stairwell leading down from the floor above. I tried another step. Again, my ankle rolled, and my weight heaved forward. Trying again, I watched my foot meticulously, deliberately placing it as I stepped. I realized that my foot wasn’t moving; it was just hanging off the bottom of my leg. I couldn’t feel it at all.

Running late, I shuffled off to class. What would normally be a 20-25min commute turned into 45 minutes as I dragged my numb foot along with me.

What could be wrong with it? I hadn’t hurt it. I hadn’t done anything super strenuous lately—beyond a lot of walking. All I had done was sleep.

By the time I got to class, I was both exhausted and concerned. I checked in with my professor to get points for attendance, helped with the group work project for a bit, and then emailed my parents to see if I could Skype them. Leaving class a few minutes early, I shuffled back to my dorm.

Talking with my parents, we came to the conclusion it was probably a pinched nerve. With sitting all the time on airplanes, trams, and for homework, blogging, and Skype conversations, it made sense that I could have tweaked something in my leg or back. It wasn’t hot, it wasn’t red. It was a bit swollen, so I snagged a mop bucket out of the hall and started soaking it in ice water. We decided the best treatment for now would be to take some Advil and walk it off.

For the next couple of days, there was no change. I started walking to the store to buy some bread and meat for sandwiches each day. I also discovered a greenbelt behind the dorms and started walking there at nights to take in the sunset and do a little devotional reading.

The Witch Doctor—April 25, 2013
I decided to try a little bit of old world medicine too. Stumbling my way into town, I went to one of the Thai massage parlors that can be found all across Prague. First off, I was shocked by the prices (a 2 hour full body massage was only $75 USD.) I went for the cheap option however, and did the $20, 30 minute foot massage.

As the lady washed and then started rubbing my feet, she noticed the right one was very sensitive and rigid to touch.

“Is not good?” she asked.

“It feels good,” I said. “My foot is just hurt.”

She rubbed it some more before saying, “Problem not in foot. Problem in head. Here.” She stood up and walked around behind the recliner I was sitting in. She began rubbing my neck and using her finger tips to put pressure on various points in my skull.

“Wait,” she said, disappearing for several minutes. She returned with a large cup of tea. “Here, drink this.”

It was luke-warm and fairly flavorless. I drank all of it. About 30 minutes later, I still couldn’t feel my foot.

Finally Sunny—April 26, 2013

I met Lad’ka for Pizza today. We had a lot of fun chatting and walking around old town for the afternoon. Nice weather has finally arrived in Prague and it was beautiful and sunny all day. Unfortunately, that meant the tourists were everywhere.

“You do not look like them anymore,” Lad’ka assured me.

I couldn’t believe I’d ever looked that clueless…in reality, I probably looked more clueless. I just hopped that I hadn’t been so loud and pushy.

Guess Who’s Coming to Bed—April 27, 2013

Aaron was away for the weekend. I’ve never had a true roommate before this semester (in the dorms back home, we shared a suite but I had my own room.) It was funny to me how quiet the room was with him being gone.

About 3am, I heard my other roommate—who shares the suite with us—come back with his friend that was visiting from out of town. I was shocked when his friend came into the room.

“Hello,” he said. “I’m Sam.”

“Zach,” I said, a little startled and still half asleep.

“Nice to meet you mate,” he said, climbing into Aaron’s bed. Within minutes he was asleep.

The quiet room was no longer an issue. He immediately began snoring louder than a lawn mower.

Explosion—April 29, 2013
Sitting in my Intro to Czech class, my iPod chimed that I had an email. It was a notification from the US Embassy. It read

“There was a gas explosion on Divadelni Street that has damaged a building in the center of the Czech capital, Prague.  Police are saying at least 13 people have been injured.  Windows on buildings near the blast were shattered, including some near the National Theater.  We are being told by police gas is still leaking at the site and another explosion is possible.  All persons are advised to stay out of the immediate area of Divadelni Street and to stay away from windows near the vicinity. Police have closed Narodni trida and Smetanovo nabrezi.”

I emailed my parents to let them know I was okay (being 8 hours ahead, they got my email before they’d even seen the coverage on the news.)

Over the course of the day, various news stations had their own take on it. Some the US stations reported that 50 people were severely injured and countless others were trapped. A Scandinavian station reported that Prague was under attack. Most of the Czech stations portrayed it as sad, but not a big deal.  In the end, I think somewhere between 30 to 50 people had minor injuries, with the worst being broken bones.

It made me speculate: What is truth? How much of what we “know” is based on how our media reports it?

Boy Scout Skills—April 29, 2013 (Continued)
My foot still wasn’t getting much better. I was walking more naturally—at least I was getting used to how I had to step. I still couldn’t quite walk without consciously thinking about it, but it looked more natural than when I’d been shuffling along.

I was starting to get some feeling back in it too. The biggest problem was I couldn’t dorsiflex my toes (point them up towards my chin.) I could curl them, but then I couldn’t straighten them without uncurling them manually with my fingers.

I started wondering if maybe there was something structurally damaged. I didn’t remember hurting it, but it was possible I’d stumbled somewhere without thinking about it. I decided to go get an ACE bandage to wrap it up.

Going back to the pharmacy by school that I’d been in with Manu back in February, I asked for the English speaking pharmacist.

I told him, “I hurt my ankle; I was wondering if you sell a bandage I can use to wrap it?”

He produced a few and recommended one over the other. It was 45 crowns (about $2.25 USD) so I bought it.

“How do I fasten it?” I asked. “Do you sell safety pins?”

“It’s in there,” he said.

No it wasn’t, I discovered when I got back to the dorm. Awkwardly, I stood next to my bed with just my toes resting on the frame. Gravity pushed my heel down to hold my foot in the dorsiflexion position I couldn’t get it into naturally. I began wrapping the bandage first around my foot, then my calf, and then figure-eighting it to form heal locks. To security it in place, I tucked the bandage in on itself, and then put a large sock on over top of it.

It immediately felt “better.” There really hadn’t been any pain, but walking was instantly more natural. I sort of limped now, but it was less noticeable and less cumbersome than thinking about placing each step.

Dreams—April 30, 2013
Before I left home, I began having this recurring dream. In it, I was in “Prague” (it wasn’t Prague since I’d never seen the city before, but the city I was in was what I imagined Prague to look like.) In the dream Prague was underwater and I was looking down into it from a boat that being tossed in the waves. I was always crying in the dream and wanting to go home. In fact, I’d wake up crying.

Now, I am having another recurring dream. This time, I’m at the airport, getting off the plane with a sea of friends and family greeting me. Again, I’m crying but this time out of joy. In fact, I’m again waking up crying.

With six weeks to go until I go home, I’ve started thinking about some of the people I met on the WSA trips. In both Barcelona and Amsterdam, there were people who were 4 to 6 weeks away from going home. All of them had this sentiment that they were ready to get home. I think I am starting to get there. I don’t want it to end, but I am ready to see my family and friends back home again.

I Skyped with my Mom tonight. She sent me my flight information for my flight home. It turns out, I’m going home a day earlier than I thought I was. It made me laugh. Despite being ready to get home, I don’t want to go a day early. I know it’s only a day, but when I saw that in the email, I felt like I was being “short changed” in some way.

Who’d have thought that I’d fall so in love with this place or with this lifestyle? I think it’s safe to say I have the travel bug.

Debrief: Switzerland

Switzerland is definitely one to add to the bucket list. I don’t know where to start to talk about the beauty, the eloquence, and the love that I experienced over the past few days.

Maybe it’s the fact that I love being outdoors. I think there is a certain beauty, a certain energy, and a certain calm that comes from being outside. I read recently that psychologists believe there is a direct correlation between the amount of time spent outside and the level of reported happiness. I believe that is true.

On that subject, Switzerland has to be the most beautiful place I’ve ever been. Every lake, field, mountain, and town is a masterpiece. Each view seems like it’s been plucked from a canvas and ready for a postcard.

And after jumping from city to city for the past five weeks, it was so nice to relax. Sleeping in, eating in, and taking simple an adventure each day was perfect.

I honestly can’t say enough about my time with Mary and Dale, nor can I thank them enough for their friendship and hospitality. They have an amazing and warm family and I felt so welcomed into their home. While we only met five days ago, I totally feel like I’ve known them for a lifetime. I feel so blessed to have met them on my adventure.

It feel funny to admit, but on some subconscious level I really expected Switzerland to be “little, rich America.” After hearing stories of politicians with Swiss bank accounts and seeing fancy cars and clocks, I assumed that Switzerland was the kingdom of excess and the safe haven for the world’s wealthiest. What I found was completely different.

The Swiss culture fascinated me. I’ve been trying to glimpse the local culture everywhere I go, and I feel like I got a pretty good view of it this time. On the surface, the Swiss are very reserved and shy. I think this probably comes from their long history of self-reliance. When you do everything for yourself, you don’t need to interact with other people. At the same time, being self-sufficient has a lot of perks. They are able to set and maintain their own standards. This high quality lifestyle covers everything from chocolate production, to customer service in restaurants, to how people cross the street. They demand perfection, and this is evident in both their government and justice system.

And the lifestyles are not flashy at all. Walking around Zug, I saw very ordinary people living very ordinary lives. They were organized, and they clearly had their own views on the world (perhaps a bit more xenophobic than other cultures I’ve been in—again, the isolationism would account for that) but they were not ostentatious. They were just people…laughing with their friends, going about their lives, dreaming about their futures.

It makes me laugh a little. This should go without saying (but it doesn’t) but I have to the realization that there is no grand “European culture.” Every country, every city, and every home reveals people living lives according to the way they understand the world. If nothing else, these differences show us a little snippet of human nature…of what we want, what we feel, and what we are searching for in life.

Once again, I can’ thank Mary and Dale enough for having me and touring me around the city and countryside. I am so grateful for their friendship and for the awesome weekend they shared with me.

My travel will be dying down a bit now so I can start focusing on finals. Still have a few more adventures left, but I’m also looking forward to sometime back in Prague (my new home town.)

Castles and Waterfalls

“Always choose the adventure! See the good! Learn from the bad! Discover you!” ~Mary

April 21, 2013
I don’t know if we got up early, or he was up late (or a combination of the two) but I Skyped Bryan this morning. He had just wrapped up the closing show of the Boy Scout Conclave back home and was getting ready for bed. Instead of using Skype, this time, we used Facetime—between my iPod and his iPhone—after a few minutes we both needed to plug in to recharge. I went to find Mary so he could say “Hi” and we decided it would be easier to talk over her computer.

The three of us talked for about an hour, laughing over stories from the Conclave and from our adventures in Zurich. We eventually hung up so he could get to bed. When we did, Mary and I started making plans for the day. We’d talked last night about going to see the Rheinfall (the largest waterfall in Europe—located on the Rheine River) along with the castle nearby. Using Google Maps, we looked up how long it would take to drive to the fall, and then to the airport. With all the calculations, we figured that the entire adventure would take about 4 hours. I then logged into my email to print my boarding passes (Swiss Air does automatic check in and emails the passes to you 24 hours before your flight) before going to take a shower.

When I came upstairs, Mary had a huge breakfast ready. “We always do French toast for Sunday brunch,” she said, producing a plate full of French toast and homemade blueberry syrup. They tasted fantastic!

Dale was watching the London marathon but he and the boys planned to come with us to the waterfall. After I finished eating, I went downstairs to start packing. In my room, I found a little care package from Mary. It was unbelievable. I immediately took it upstairs to ask her about it.

When I came upstairs, I found her folding my laundry.

“You don’t have to do that, I can fold those,” I said.

“No, go pack, it’s no problem” she said.

“You can’t possibly give me all that food,” I said. “You should keep some of the chocolate and things for your family too.”

“No,” she said. “You take it. Chocolate is dangerous in this house. Here, I need to send you with a few of my favorite Lindt bars too.” She got up and got a few bars from the closet.

“Mary, it’s so much. It’s so nice, are you sure?”

“Absolutely!” she said.

Will and Cole came running down the hall to tell us they were about to finish the marathon. We followed them back into the master bedroom to watch the first few people cross the finish line. (Not to make a commentary on marathons, but seeing those emaciated, sweat covered athletes does not make running look like “fun.”)

“We are going to get ready to go see the Schloss,” Mary said. “Do you guys still want to come?”

“Sure,” Dale said. “Let me take a shower real quick and we can all go.”

I followed Mary back to the kitchen to grab my laundry.

“Here,” she said handing me a reusable grocery bag. “You can put it all in this.”

“I feel like a bum having you do my laundry, taking the food, and your bags and things,” I said.

“It really isn’t a problem,” she said. “We all bum at some point in our life. And you are welcome to come back and bum at any time.”

 I went downstairs and packed up my clothes and care package. I shut down my laptop and loaded it into my bag. When I had everything ready, I journaled a bit before going upstairs.

In the kitchen, Will and Cole showed me a game on their iPad. It was fun hanging around “little brothers” again. Their enthusiasm was infectious. They were so friendly and loving, with no judgmental pretense what-so-ever. I laughed along with them at cartoon explosions and epic zombie battle scenes until we piled into the car and headed to the fall.

The drive was another beautiful one, through farmland and rolling hills. I shared with Mary and Dale my project for Skoda and we started making Skoda jokes. Ironically, we drove by the Swiss Skoda Distribution center in one town.

The Schloss Worth Castle is right next to the parking for the Rheinfall. “Schloss” is the German word for castle, in reference to a royal family’s dwelling. The Schloss-worth certainly was one of the smaller castles I’ve seen, but very medieval feeling. Parts of the original wall were missing, but the main guard tower—which controlled the draw bridge over the moat—was still intact. Outside of the wall was a little church, with a red steeple, green roof, and purple clock with golden numbers. Inside, several of the original buildings now housed restaurants and gift shops.

We bought tickets and walked across drawbridge and over the dried out moat. The main attraction of the Schloss, however, was definitely the Rheinfall.  Being the Niagara Falls of Europe, it attracts tourists from all over. Moving 558,040 liters (19,707 cubic feet) per second, the fall can be heard from the parking lot of the Schloss.

“Mom,” Cole asked, “why did they put a waterfall behind their castle?”

Mary, Dale, and I exchanged a little chuckle, while Dale explained the probably order of that construction project.

At the back of the castle wall, there is a little turnstile to get out to the castle. We each went through it and walked out to the first viewing observation deck. It was a massive fall. Unlike Niagara—which is one long drop down from Canada—this was a series of tumbling blasts, in which the water bounced and splashed from rock to rock. The canyon it sat in was massive, and on the other side a little red steam train could be seen chugging through the grassy green field.

“We can get closer,” Mary said, and we continued the climb down the hill. The path switch-backed a couple of times to a series of stairs which lead to the cement platform.

“That is unbelievable,” I said, as mist from the fall splattered in my face. Mary snapped a few photos and we joked that none of them looked real—the contrast of the fall on my dark clothes had sort of a green screen effect.

“We can get even closer,” Mary said, pointing to a cave.

Walking through the cave, I had to duck. It was damp and humid in the cave, and overcast breeze made it exceptionally chilly. On the other side, was a platform, practically touching the water. Looking through the mist, various rocks and structures were visible. It almost looked like a pirate ship was stuck inside the fall, being beaten by the tumbling stream from above. In reality, it was probably some sort of structural equipment.

We snapped a few more photos before Will and Cole said, “Let’s go closer.”

Mary got a concerned look on her face but said, “We can go closer.”

Exiting the cave and winding down more steps, we found the final platform that was right in front of the fall. Mary didn’t like being so close, so we snapped a quick picture and headed back up.

“I take it you won’t be doing the boat cruise?” I asked, pointing at red and yellow tourist boats cruising right in front of the fall.

“No!” she said. “That freaks me out. Bryan would probably kayak over the thing.”

We had to take a glass elevator up the side of the hill to get back into the Schloss.  While the view was impressive, the swaging motion as the little glass box cranked up the side of the hill was a bit alarming.

Back inside the castle, the boys said they needed to use the toilet. Dale took them to find one while Mary said, “Here let’s do a little photo shoot so you have some Swiss souvenirs.”

We got photos inside the castle wall, on the draw bridge, and out by the gift shop.

“Stand in front of that cow,” Mary said, pointing to a large bovine statue in the window of a chocolate shop.

“How about the watches?” I said. “That’s Swiss right?”

“That’s probably not politically correct to say,” she said, “but it’s totally true.” We got a few photos in the watch store and the Swiss Army Knife store.

When the boys got back, we climbed in the car and headed out to the airport. Eating our sandwiches in route, we laughed some more as we drove through beautiful green country field.

As we approached, the song “Gangam Style” came on the radio.

“I can do this dance,” Cole said.

“I was actually in a ‘Gangam Style’ promotional video for the Boy Scouts,” I said. “With Bryan actually. I can’t do the dance.”

“I have to show you,” Cole said.

Unfortunately, we were pulling up to the airport.

“Maybe Zach will come back and you can show him,” Mary said.

We pulled up to the curb and Mary got out to help me with my things.

“Thank you so much for having me,” I told Dale.

“Absolutely,” he said. “You are welcome to come back anytime.”

I told Will and Cole good-bye too, before hopping out of the car.

“There you go,” Mary said, handing me my bags (which was now a plural collection.)

“Thank you so much,” I said. “For everything.”

“You are so welcome,” she said, giving me a hug. “If you have any trouble, let us know. If you need a place to stay, let us know. And next time you are travelling Europe you have to stop by.”

“Absolutely,” I said. “I will definitely keep in touch.”

“Have a safe trip,” she said, giving me another hug. I promised that I would and that I would email them when I got back to Prague.

She got back in the car and I walked inside. With that, I was on my own again.

And that was the feeling I had as I walked through the doors. “Here I go again,” I actually said out loud to no one in particular. I followed the signs for departures and got in line for security. I briefly worried that all the food I had in my bag would cause concern, but once I said there were no liquids, they let me carry it through.

The terminal had a long series of moving sidewalks and moving ramps. I was at Gate A81 and it seemed to take forever to get there. Every slow moving person in Switzerland was on the same route I was. When I did arrive, I took a seat and pulled out my journal. I fervently jotted down every detail I could remember. I wanted to make sure I could capture all of the beauty, fun, and warmth I’d seen and felt this weekend.

As I wrote, I grabbed a truffle from my care package—a salted caramel one that tasted amazing! As I Iooked in the bag, I also pulled out the copy of Swiss Made that Mary had bought for me. Opening the cover, I saw that she had signed it.

I read it and it made me smile.

A Night on the Town

"Nothing would be more tiresome than eating and drinking if God had not made them a pleasure as well as a necessity."  ~Voltaire

April 18, 2013 (Continued)

We decided to “go downtown” for dinner tonight to a restaurant in Zurich that served German and Swiss dishes. We talked about getting fondue, and Mary said they should have it.

“It’s different than American fondue,” Mary said. “The melted cheese, is melted cheese. It’s not the fancy stuff they make in America.”

“You actually have to drink a lot of water when you eat it, because they worry about it congealing and forming a cheese ball in your intestines,” Dale explained.

The drive into Zurich was about half an hour. Will and Cole showed me their Legos in the backseat as we drove passed the lake and through little thickets of trees. In town, we drove by the train station and a few of the shops we’d seen yesterday.

As we passed a few parking lots, Mary pointed out the electronic signs over the lot.

“It tells you exactly how many spaces are left,” she explained. “There is a sensor at each space, sometimes with a  little light over the space, and when a car parks there, the number drops and the light changes from green to red. When you drive through parking garages and such, you just look for the lights instead of winding around to find spots. It’s super-efficient.”

We drove by several lots and didn’t find anything. It was starting to sprinkle again so Dale dropped us off in front of the restaurant and went to park the car.

“This place is really good!” Mary said. She, Cole, Will, and I went in to get a table.

When we walked in, the little wood paneled room was warm and crowded. People were chattering away and a waitress dressed in a festive, flowing dress and apron was floating about. She was probably in her sixties or so, and appeared to be mostly speaking German.

“Yes?” she said, when she saw us standing and surveying the crowded room.

“Five,” Mary said, holding out her hand full of fingers.

“Is not possible tonight,” the waitress said. “Need reservations.”

“Oh,” Mary said. “Thank you.”

We went back outside.

“There’s another good little Swiss restaurant across the street,” Mary said. We walked over another little place. This one was closed.

“Well,” she said thinking for a second. “Let’s wait for Dale.” We went under a canopy of a jewelry shop to wait out of the rain. When Dale walked up, Mary whistled at him to keep him from going into the restaurant. He turned and saw us huddling under the shelter and came over.

“We need reservations,” Mary said. “The other place is closed.”

“Oh really?” Dale said. “That’s odd.”

“Do you want to try the steak house?” Mary asked.

“Sure that will work,” he said.

“Just tell Bryan and your family that we tried to get Swiss food,” Mary said, as we started up the side streets.

We passed Heidi again on our way into town.

The restaurant we went to was excellent, not at all an “American” steakhouse. The people that owned it were from Argentina and they import all of their beef from South America. After checking our coats, we took a seat at a booth in the back. Mary recommended a dish called “bife de lobo” and I ordered that. As an appetizer, we shared a Carpaccio and for sides we split a few orders of French fries and spinach.

No exaggeration, the steak was the best steak I’ve ever eaten. Cooked just a little bit medium rare, it was totally pink in the center. Each bite was so tender, it made my tongue tingle. The spinach too was awesome. Not too salty, but not too bitter either. Of course, fries were a nice treat too.

As soon as they finished eating, both Cole and Will fell asleep in the booth. We sat around for a while talking and laughing. When it came time to leave, Mary and Dale wrestled the boys awake and after we picked up our coats, we walked to the car.

Walking through the shops again, a handbag in a window caught Mary’s eye. She called us over and pointed it out. “How much do you think it is?” she asked.

Dale looked at the prices in the window. All of the items on the mannequin were listed on a little plaque at her feet.

“I don’t know the German word for handbag, and the only word I don’t know on there is ‘tasche,’” Dale explained.  “The tasche is 3500 francs.”

“What!?!” Mary explained.

Dale pulled out his phone and looked it up. Sure enough, tasche meant handbag.

“Well, what can I say?” Mary said. “I have good taste!”

We continued to laugh and joke the whole drive home. By the time we pulled into the garage, my sides hurt form laughing so hard. Mary and Dale put the kids to bed, while I checked my email and then met them up in the kitchen. We had a few slices of the truffle cake for dessert, while we continued laughing and talking about Europe. We did check the news for a Boston update, but didn’t see any new developments.

Since it was close to midnight, we decided it was time to turn in. We said good night, and I headed downstairs. I journaled for a bit, but quickly fell asleep.

Snowday in Switzerland

“Instead of wondering when your next vacation is, maybe you should set up a life you don’t need to escape from.” ~Seth Godin

Saturday April 20, 2013
Overnight, the rain turned to snow and by the time I woke up on Saturday, we were snowed in. I got up and went upstairs. Will and Cole were sitting on the coach playing video games. I didn’t see anyone else, so I went back down to my room. This weekend was the Boy Scout Conclave back home. My friend Bryan had sent me a link to watch a video of the opening show so I booted up my laptop to check it out.

“They got him!” Mary said. I turned to see her standing in my doorway with a basket of laundry.

“They got him?” I asked.

“Yep,” shortly after we went to bed last night, “they found him in this guy’s backyard hiding in a boat.”

We talked about it a bit and what an ordeal it had been.

“And now you get to see winter in the Swiss Alps,” she joked.

“It’s beautiful out there,” I said, looking out at the panorama out the bedroom window.

“When you’re ready,” she said, “and there’s no rush, how about you and I go on a little adventure.”

“That sounds great!” I said.

I took a shower, ate some cereal, and got my camera, and coat together. Mary got the keys from Dale and we headed out into the snow.

As we pulled out of the garage, Mary handed me a bag of trash to toss in the dumpster across the street. There was almost a foot of snow on top of the bin. It was a wet, heavy snow; the type that is great for making snowmen, but not so good for sledding or skiing (or trying open dumpsters.) I couldn’t budge the lid. Mary got out of the car and together, we pried it open.

We drove through the little town that Mary and Dale live in. The circuitous roads were narrow and cobblestoned, and the red faced clock towers were so incredibly beautiful.

Our first stop on the adventure was the recycling center. I’d been told the Europe is much better at recycling than America. After seeing this facility, I can see why. There is no such thing as single stream recycling; everything has to be sorted into metal, paper, plastic, etc. In Switzerland, trash bags cost money. Recycling however, is free.

Now the caveat to “free” is that you have to take your recycling to the recycling center (something that would never catch on in America.) There, you take it around to different bins depositing what you brought. There are containers for plastic bottles, metal hangers, newspapers, other paper, and even things like batteries, CDs, and VHS tapes. It was incredible to see how well organized and how resourceful the system is.

Driving out of town and up higher into the mountains, Mary pointed out a military base to me. Like NORAD, many of the military operations are built directly into hills and completely disguised. They are not fenced off or gated, rather, the road just appears to dead-end into the side of the hill. If you look, it’s clear there is a garage there, but there is no barrier or guard keeping traffic from driving right up to the entry point.

A little further up, we went to a large monastery. It was a massive building, with two large clock towers (each with a lavender clock face) and a very grand entryway. The building was so wide I couldn’t get a picture of it in one frame.

I really couldn’t get a picture at all because my camera batteries were once again, dead. Mary gave me her iPhone to hop out of the car and snap some photos.

“If you walk over to that tent,” she said pointing up by the building, “they sell all sorts of Jesus stuff.”

With the snow and cold wind, I decided to pass on Jesus stuff for today.

Getting back in the car, we took off for a bit of a longer drive. As we drove, we talked about our families, friends, and just life in general. Mary was so easy to talk to, with such a great perspective on living simply, being happy, and taking adventures.

Driving through the Swiss Alps was amazing! The views everywhere were awesome. From crystalline lakes to frosted trees, all surrounded and covered with drifting snow were beautiful. The crags and cliff sides  all around us were amazing. As we drove along, the snow began to soften and within minutes of it ceasing, blue sky burst through the clouds.

Mary pointed out a ski jump on the side of the road. From the top of the mountain, it rocketed down to the curled and abrupt ending at its mid-point. In my imagination, it really looked like you could jump the road going down it.

“Not sure about a ski jump,” I said, “but it might be a fun waterslide.”

Further on down the road, we saw something that neither of us were expecting (or had seen before.) There was a horse and buggy, just riding along in traffic as if it belonged there.

“That is unreal,” we both agreed. They clearly had no intention of moving out of the flow of traffic, so we decided to go around them.

Crossing over along bridge/dam that went through one of the lakes, we continued along the winding little mountain road. As we climbed, every view became more impressive than the last. We passed little farm houses with wooden fences around their property lines. We drove along dirt roads (that were a little muddy now) and saw ivory white fields leading up to sprawling mountain ranges.

“The farmers in the winter here actually use their property as ski resorts,” Mary said. “They will make hot cocoa and food in their house and sell tickets from there. They have those little lifts that you just hold on while it pulls you up the hill, and you just ski on their property.”

Eventually, we reached our destination. An actual ski lodge tucked away in a fog-filled valley. The blue sky was creeping through as we climbed out to take some photos. The entire little nook was just unreal. From the wood cabin, to the royal blue sky, and endless expanse of snow. It felt like something out of a fairy tale.

Even with the storm clearing, it was still freezing cold out. Getting back in the car, we started to drive home. Driving through the fields and over the bridge, we continued chatting about life. From talking about literature, to quoting world religions, we covered everything from hope to forgiveness and we philosophized our way through the Alps.

On our way home, we stopped at a Swiss brand grocery store called Coop. “Let’s just look for some fun brands and stuff to eat, and we’ll go home and eat ‘European’ food,” Mary said.

The grocery store layout was similar to Prague, in that the entrance and exit was not the same route, so you had to follow the maze to get out. Mary showed me how to weigh produce (something I’d heard about before I left the US, but not something I’d done yet) and pointed out a few fun brands.  There were certainly more American brands in this store than I’d seen in Prague. There were also a lot of French and Italian brands too.

Some of the more odd things we saw were in the deli. Horse steaks were available for purchase. There was also lunch meat made from veal. Wrapping through another aisle, we found ice tea made from cannabis leafs.

We did find lots of stuff to try. Mary already had a few favorite brands such as a particular Italian bread company and another lunchmeat (not veal) brand. We got some different types of yogurt and pudding. They had the Czech rice pudding brand and we got a few of those (rice pudding being one of Mary’s favorite desserts.)

Chocolate was where we spent a large amount of our time. Surprisingly, there weren’t a lot of German chocolate brands for sale. There was the standard Toblerone and Lindt chocolate, along with other Swiss brands. Milka was present, but there wasn’t a lot of other competition.

“You have to take some of this chocolate milk stuff back with you to Prague,” she said, picking up a box of a brand called Caotina. “I swear this is crack in it. It’s amazing!” We also got some different chocolate covered wafers and a few different cookies. I found the stroopwaffles from Amsterdam and we got some for Will and Cole to try.

Across Europe—I’ve seen this in Prague, Germany, and Spain—Ricola cough drops are sold as candy and not as medicine. We stocked up on a bunch of different flavors.

“It seems like I’ve had a perpetual tickle in my throat since I got to Europe,” I told Mary.

“Us too,” she said. “I think its cause our immune systems are still adapting. With all your travel, you’ll either go back to the US and never get sick again, or you’ll breed some super bug and spread it around to everyone.”

After we checked out, we loaded the car and headed back to the house. Mary made sandwiches with the Italian bread and lunch meat. It tasted great! The lunchmeat was like a spicy Italian sausage made from turkey. It was really fresh and tender.

On our first walk when I arrived in Switzerland, I’d mentioned that my next stop was Paris. Mary, Dale, and the kids had lived in Paris for a while and had already shared a ton of stories with me.

“Have you seen Midnight in Paris,” Mary asked me.

“I love that movie,” Will said.

“Me too,” Cole said.

“No, I haven’t,” I said.

“It’s a Woody Allen movie, with Owen Wilson, and it is awesome,” Mary said.

“Can we watch it Mom?” Will asked.

“Are you up for a snow day movie?” Mary asked.

“Absolutely,” I said.

We took our lunches down to the family room and crowded around the TV. The movie was really entertaining, and all throughout, Mary gave me suggestions of places to go see in Paris. Will and Cole are fluent in French and so they taught me some basic phrases (like “I don’t speak French” and “Please” and “Stupid American.”)

When we finished Midnight in Paris, Mary put on The Thomas Crown Affair.

“This is another one of our favorites,” she said.

While at first, I planned to get my laptop to work on some homework, I found it fascinating. By the time the movie ended, I was on the edge of my seat.

“Now, I don’t mean to sound like your Mom,” Mary said, “but I don’t want to send you back to Prague with dirty laundry. So why don’t you grab your clothes and we’ll get them washed.”

I couldn’t believe it! The idea of not having to do laundry right away when I got back to Prague sounded fantastic! I grabbed my clothes and met Mary in the basement. I got them sorted and started.

“This will be the first time my clothes come out of the wash cleaner than when I put them in,” I said, relaying stories of the laundry facilities in the dorms—as well as my frustration of not having a dryer.

Back in my room, I started journaling. I started thinking, it’s funny how much I’ve blocked out life in America. I don’t want to use the word “forgotten” because I haven’t forgotten anything. It’s more of a feeling like I’ve been gone for years. Remembering life before I came over to Prague feels like I’m recalling a dream I had once years ago. The details are still vivid, but they don’t spend as much time in my active memory.

In all honesty, going back home kind of scares me now. I’ve gotten used to this life and in many ways, I like it…a lot! It’s fun going on adventures and being in a different country every 72 hours. It’s fun pushing myself and seeing what I can do. It’s fun relying on myself and meeting new people everywhere I go. In some ways, I don’t think I want to go back.

But at the same time, I miss people like crazy. There is not much I wouldn’t do to have my parents and close friends here with me right now. If they could come on the adventure with me, that would be perfect.

But I think these thoughts and feelings are probably a fairly common part of life. Going on vacation is always more fun that living in routine. I honestly don’t believe the purpose of life is to work. Keiko and I had a conversation about this one time, and I wish I could remember the details better. I think too many people get caught in the rut of routine, and sometimes (I was certainly guilty of this three months ago) the idea of leaving that routine is terrifying. At the end of the day, I think routine is comfortable, but I don’t think it is fulfilling.

At the same time, I don’t think the purpose of life is to always be on the go. While jumping from city to city and living every day at 100mph is exhilarating, there is also something to be said for being surrounded by people you care about and do things that matter to you.

I think the goal is to figure out how to have adventures every day, no matter where we are. That could be walking through the streets downtown. It could be taking a drive through the mountains. It could be ordering something new off the menu. It could be starting a conversation with a stranger.

Every day is an adventure…I think that is the purpose of life.