Thursday, May 29, 2008

Egad.

WE'RE BACK!!! As much as I hate to admit it since I went to neither the donkey park nor the banana museum (which I sadly think is no more, but I still wish I had their banana weathervane), I would actually rank this as trip #2 in terms of okayness. The other would be our wedding. However, we did have to get there. We are such rule abiders, so we rushed to get to the airport two hours in advance, only to be told that our flight had been delayed by four hours. Arrive in Newark, to be met by the lovely representative, who told us that we were not, in fact, going to Amsterdam, but instead to Portugal, where we would have an extra 6 hour layover. I was already so tired I could weep. Fortunately, the three little melons slept significant portions of the trip, so they were revved and ready to go in Lisbon. We paid a jillion dollars to store our luggage temporarily, and took the bus into town where we walked around. Lisbon is lovely, but there is only one direction - up. The whole time I was there, I kept thinking about Candide, the French novel, which is the only source of knowledge that I have about Lisbon, and that was "the best of all world" during the earthquakes. Lots of tiled houses which were pretty. Same ice cream they sell in Germany.

Arrive in Germany in time for the two hour drive to our rental house. By the time we get there, Monkey Boy has gone into slightly psychotic exhaustion mode where he is unable to stop talking or moving. Finally, at 2 o'clock a.m. after almost 24 hours of travel, the angels slept. However, Boo showed up literally with the sun at 4 a.m. to tell us the day had started since the sun was now awake. I immediately changed from like to dislike of our house since none of the rooms where the children slept had curtains so they were all early birds. I quickly taught them how to turn on the TV and what channels would teach them how to speak Telly Tubby German.

We stayed at that house for a week then moved to the farm. The farm was run by two delightful people, Rolf and Antje. The only bad thing I can say about this place is that it caused us to have to be decontaminated on the way back (nasty little box on the customs declaration about did you touch farm animals?). Basically, that meant those people that are gaurding us against food terrorism had to wash every pair of shoes we owned, which meant I had to pull all of our used underwear out of them where they were shoved in the nether, unreachable regions of our suitcases. Gak.

Monkey Boy has found his calling. He can milk goats like a shepherd. Bunny was indifferent to it, she was much more into mixing the feed for the horses, pigs, chickens and goats. I have discovered that I am totally and completely allergic to goats. Can't go near them. The people who run this farm don't actually raise any of these animals for meat. They have pigs because they are sweet. The pigs were kind of cute. Hairy little buggers, though, and I think I am going to have to rethink my intense relationship with bacon. Boo was all about the collecting of eggs. Bunny fell off the pony, but got back on. We rode repeatedly in the scoop of a tractor.

And, the miracle of miracles, it didn't rain in Germany. This is like saying there is no sand in Saudi Arabia. It just is an impossibility. We actually went to the beach and Bunny played in the Baltic Sea, something I have still failed to do. The best thing about the no rain thing though is the snails were not out. You know how Indiana Jones hates snakes? And how Winston in the novel 1984 sold out to keep the rats and mice away? That is me and snails. Actually, it is more broad. It is me and snails, slugs, moray eels, leeches, ticks, etc. If it would keep the slugs from coming closer, and I was in a lifeboat type situation, I would totally throw my husband out of the boat to keep them away. Last summer while camping, the boys were playing in a creek. Boo stood up and Monkey said, "What are those black things?" I started screaming at hubby dear to fix this situation now, but he pointed out that he had a flicker of flame after 45 minutes of puffing, and those leeches could just suck his youngest dry. Monkey calmly turned around, got a stick and started flicking. He got a gift as a result, because I would have just thrown Boo into the van and driven in search of a park ranger rather than touch a leech. There is nothing in the world that makes me happier than killing snails. If I was a Jainist (I think those are the ones who say you have to keep your mouth shut so you don't accidentally ingest a gnat?), I would definitely be bumped down a few levels during each reincarnation. I will pour big jars of salt on the tiniest little slug, sacrifice a premium beer for drowning, etc. Slugs keep me from farming.

The worst part of going to Germany this summer was I didn't take the right books. Usually I pack a pile of mindless drivel, but this time I took National Book Award winners. Yeah, whatever, I was begging for money to buy 10 dollar Time magazines by day 3. I did manage to read 1 quality book while I was there. It was called Gilead, and it did win the National Book Award, and it was beautiful. It got to the point that I was underlining stuff because the language choices were so perfect. I started a novel by Neil Gaiman, which I think would be classified as fantasy, and I had not read anything in that genre since age 15. I did this primarily because my friend Adrienne is such a big fan, and he appears in her dreams, and he is definitely hotter than any of my world leaders (Note to self - be grateful that Angela Merkel, the German leader, has failed to appear).

But since I had no lowbrow books, I had to watch lowbrow TV. One night my husband stayed to visit with his family, the kids went to sleep, and I watched 3 straight hours of MTV. I discovered that MTV no longer plays videos. Instead, I became deeply engrossed in the lives of Tila Tequila and Bret Michaels, both of whom should be forced to have sterilizations to protect the world. However, I also learned that Germany should never, ever criticize American culture. At one point, before I embraced my reality TV loving self, I counted 4 channels where people were singing folk songs (in drindels!), 2 where they were talking about music, 2 where they were teaching you how to plant stuff, and a bunch of handball. MTV was logical at this point.

Now the highlight of my trip was, hands down, the Eurovision contest. For all the non-Europeans out there, imagine watching American Idol tryouts where those folks are the finalists. I will never, ever judge the Miss America pageant harshly again. The basic premise is all the countries in Europe send the best from their country to compete. This has resulted in the discovery of ABBA, Katrina and the Waves (Walking on Sunshine). However, it is telling that in 53 years, those are the only two names worth remembering. Out of the 43 countires that tried out, 26 get to be in the final. Italy and Austria have decided to retain some dignity and decline to participate. However, every time a former Soviet bloc breaks up, then you get a bunch of new guys. Here were my favorites:

http://www.eurovision.tv

Pay particular attention to the eliminees, Lithuania and Ireland. Turkey puppets!


Bosnia

Can't believe I missed the chicken the first time around.



Spain



Azerbijan



France

And the French had a problem with the fact he didn't sing in French.


The ones that made me not beat my head repeatedly on the floor:


Greece



Ukraine

and the guy who won. Don't get the ice skating part, but the director of Billboard thinks he might be American's first Russian superstar. You have been warned.


Russia

They did these weird introductions before each country. I think the guy is David Archueleta on methamphetamine.

I have to go now, but just type in Eurovision on youtube and you get those other lovelies like Iceland and Romania.

Enjoy.

2 comments:

Raquita said...

Oh I am crying laughing...
I am gonna miss you terribly.. you guys sure MO isn't the place for you for evah?!?!

Adrienne Martini said...

Eurovision!

Let me know if Gaiman moves you. And given a choice between Gaiman and Merkel, well, seriously?