Buchenwald

Yesterday my cousin, Carina, and I decided to make the 2 hour journey to the nearest former concentration camp, despite the nagging uncertainties and unpleasant expectations of exactly what we would find. And feel. As strangely morbid as this may sound, I have always wanted to visit one of these sites. I've heard of the horrors all my life. I've learned about it in history classes, read accounts in books, even seen vivid depictions in films, as you most likely have as well. But I wanted to physcially stand on the (proverbially and literally) blood-stained ground and let the emotions, that are certain to rise up with this intense connection of past and present, overwhelm me. In some sense, I think, I wanted to pay my respects. Perhaps even apologize for what (some of) "my people" did. I don't know if that makes sense. Or if it is even right of me to presume to apologize. Perhaps it's a politically incorrect gesture. Or perhaps it doesn't mean anything to anyone because the atrocities that took place can never be undone or absolved. Perhaps it didn't mean anything to anyone. Except me.

It was a huge compound. First we walked over the train tracks that brought thousands upon thousands of prisoners to Buchenwald. Gypsies, people of colour, Jews, the handicapped, cripples, spies and traitors that had been caught by the Gestapo. Valuable human lives carted around the countryside to a death camp, tortured by men and women who somewhere along the way lost their hearts ... and, as far as I'm concerned, mental sanity. I stood on the cobblestone train platform where countless groups of shivering, terrified, hopeless men, women, and children cringed under barked commands and the butts of rifles as the falling snow piled around their bare feet. I almost heard the now nearly 70 year old cries and whimperings.

We moved on. Past the old headquarters buildings and Nazi garages. Through a large gatehouse with the iron rods spelling which means 'to each his own'. Most concentration camps had some sort of absurd, ominous phrase, or slogan, above the gates of the compound. (One of the most famous is "Arbeit macht frei"...which means 'work will set you free'.)

How can I describe what went through my mind as I looked out across the grounds that spelled certain death for so many innocent people? The prisoner baracks, which were originally meant to house 90 horses and instead contained up to 2000 prisoners at a time, are no longer standing in Buchenwald. You can just see the outlines of where the walls used to stand as the bottom layer of bricks are still stuck in the ground. These outlines are filled with black rocks, to help visitors try to envison and understand the vastness of this camp. I saw the area where the young people and children were kept. Children! Can you believe it? I mean, you know it. In your head. Most of us have seen "Schindler's List" and the like. But does it get past our brain cells? Into our understanding? Is that even possible?

As we walked through this area it began to rain hard. Talk about pathetic fallacy. I huddled under my black umbrella and couldn't help thinking about the fact that the prisoners never had such luxuries. I was thankful for the rain. For the blowing wind. For the desolate skies. I think a sunny day would have somehow felt ... inappropriate. Disrespectful, if you will. I stood where the former "das kleine Lager" used to stand. That is where the worst atrocities took place. Where the most painful and indescribable torture took place. And I wondered what it takes for someone to lose their soul; to be capable of inflicting such unspeakable acts, repeatedly; to listen to the screaming and then find the strength be the cause of it ... again and again.

Carina and I then moved into one of the only buildings left standing which is now a museum filled with information and historical artifacts and documents that could keep its visitors occupied for days. I think it was the physical objects in this museum that struck me the most. I saw a former prisoner's clothes. His number stitched onto the chest. Did anyone ever use his name again? Or was he #26,532 for the rest of his life?

I saw the needles that contained the lethal injections for those too sick or crippled to be of any further use in the stone quarry where the prisoners worked 12 hours a day, sometimes forced to sleep in the salt pits for up to 8 nights in a row.

I saw and read the original document declaring the appr. 75 ha. near Weimar, Thueringen as intended for the next concentration camp in Germany. The signature at the bottom symbolizing all the terror that was to follow. A signature sentencing death to people he would never even meet ... or waste a second thought on. The word "Geheim" ('top secret') stamped across the top.

I saw pictures of walking skeletons. Old. Young.

I heard the account of a young man who said the only word that went through his mind, 24 hours a day, was 'bread'.

I saw the book that listed all the experimental operations that were carried out in Buchenwald. The prisoner's number, the type of operation, the exact procedure, the outcome. The resulting falsified death certificates.

I read the quotes of US soldiers who recounted their thoughts from the day that they walked into the camp and never quite recovered from what they saw.

One of the prisoners who was freed in April, 1945 said that when the soldiers entered the compound they simply stared. That's what he remembers about the US soldiers. How they simply stared. Because the reality of it was simply too much for the human mind to truly grasp. Just remembering that quote brings tears to my eyes as I write this. That's right ... the girl that never ever cries.

We never made it to the building that contains the giant ovens where the corpses were cremated before the camp closed for the day. (What an ironic sentence, isn't it?) But I'm partly thankful, or perhaps relieved is a better word, I didn't have to stand in their presence.

Am I glad I did it? Undoubtedly. I would do it again. And again. To keep reminding myself that this HAPPENED. It's so easy to think of history as a story. An endless legend. It's hard to grasp its reality. Its validity. Its importance. Yes, it is in the past. And there were hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands of Germans who fought against it every step of the way. And I am proud of them. I am still proud to be a German. Many Germans this year have asked me how long I think we will have to pay for what happened in WWII. Do you know how many German flags I have seen waving in the wind here since I've arrived? Two. Go for a drive in the States and try to count the flags in ONE TOWN on one hand and I can almost guarantee you'll need to whip out that second hand. And possibly several, if not all, toes. Because they have nothing to be ashamed about, right?

Meanwhile Germans are still afraid to be proud. Proud to be German.

I will remember what happened. I will feel deep sadness for what took place in this (and surrounding) country(s). But I will also remember the courage of people like Stauffenberg and Bonhoeffer. I will be proud of them. And I will remember what many Germans went through during this time and the horrible years between WWI and WWII with the Treaty of Versailles (which I still consider to be largely responsible for the rise of Hitler and his Nazis). And I will continue to hold my German-Canadian head high. For I believe that a nation with the guts and courage to get back up, admit its mistakes with humility and true remorse, and rebuild itself into one of the world's leading powers is half the battle. The rest of the battle is up to us. Where will the next generation, my generation, your generation, take us?

For further photos of my weekend with Carina, including pics of the school where I work, as well as the concentration camp, please follow this link: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=108398&id=573967603&l=0e4e9

The Tausendfuehler

Ok, I've only got about 15 minutes until my next class starts, but I wanted to blog today because my cousin, Carina, is coming out for the weekend and I won't have time to blog for the next few days.

So yesterday was my first day with the Tausendfuehler in the Zschettgau pre-school. I will be spending 6 hours there every Thursday. It was fun, but a lot of hard work. See, I'm not allowed to say ANYTHING in German. The kids are supposed to just hear me speak English, play English games, sing English songs, etc. That makes it really difficult, cuz I can't say something in English and then translate it for them if they don't get it. That basically limits me to either saying things that I can point to or make up comprehensible gestures to. It's a LOT harder than it sounds. Plus every once in a while a German word slips out by accident. But so far the kids have never noticed. The funniest thing is that they (obviously) always speak to me in German, I answer in English, but then they ask me if I can speak any German. It makes me laugh, because a more mature mind would be able to reason that if I can understand everything they say in German perfectly, then I would most likely also be able to speak German. But they are completely convinced that I can't speak a word of German, I can only understand it. Makes me laugh.

They are little sweethearts, though. I had little hands tugging on my fingers, tickling my tummy, and petting my hair. Little arms clinging to my legs, little lips pressing sticky kisses on my cheeks and bony bottoms fighting for a place on my lap. We played in the sandbox, coloured, climbed on a jungle gym, and much more. It was a lot of fun. Especially just because it's totally different from what I do all day at school. I just get to play with them and horse around. And let me tell you...by the time 6 hours are over, you're pretty exhausted. But no rest for the weary. Have to go home, work out, and then get ready for 1.5 hours of tutoring. And this all takes place after two classes at school at 7:30 in the morning. But I can't complain. First of all, I get paid for all of this, and second of all Thursdays used to be SO boring. I would get home from school at 9:30 in the morning, get back into my pajamas and spend the rest of the day trying to find stuff to do. But now with all the class prep and the extra classes that teachers are asking me to do and having to really work on my u of w application, I'm starting to feel a little stretched. But nothing I can't handle. :)

The funniest part yesterday was when we were all sitting around for snack and one of the little boys, Patrick, asked me whether I had a baby. I told him "no", which is a word thankfully all of them understand. Then he asked what my husband's name was. So I told him I don't have one. Then he wanted to know what day I was getting married. To which I once again had to tell him "I don't know". And then Eric piped up "she probably doesn't even know WHOM she's going to marry". ... I had to bite my lip really hard to keep from laughing. I mean, I was being judged about my single status bya pack of freaking 5 YEAR OLDS!!!!!!! It's bad enough when people my age bug me about it, but now I'm even considered an abnormal anomoly by pre-schoolers. Patrick then informed me that he was going to marry Magdalena, who was contentedly sitting on my lap chewing around on a graham cracker. She didn't seem to mind the statement. How pathetic am I? Snotty-nosed children with koolaid stains on their chins running around in leotards and slippers are already declaring their love for one another while the most I can get is a honk, a whistle, or some scruffy-looking construction worker's head swivel...

Learning to teach, teaching to learn

Hello!

I just realized it's been a few days since I last blogged. And then I realized it's cuz I didn't have anything to say in the last few days! lol. miracle of miracles. But I didn't wanna leave you hanging, so I'm just gonna pull something out of my a**. I've got an hour to kill here at school...

Here goes.

Um, I'm really enjoying being at school these days! As I've mentioned before, coming home from holidays is always a little difficult for me. I really have to struggle with the whole "back to the routine" feelings of slight depression. lol. Especially since it meant saying goodbye to my mom and sister-in-law. But into the second week of school now I'm really really having fun! I feel more at home here now than ever. When I walk down the hallways I recognize a lot of the kids and they all actually smile and say hi! I mean, who knows what they do/say once I'm past them but who gives a flying crap? And you know those weird nervous feelings I talked about before? Like how I got really nervous before doing a lesson, even thought once I was actually up there doing it, I'm ok? Well, I don't really get that anymore. I just go up there and do my thing! And I REALLY REALLY enjoy it. Today has been a blast so far. I had one gr. 12 class where I did a powerpoint presentation on Canada, including playing two songs (one by Dala, one by the Matthew Good Band) as examples of Canadian music. The students were really nice, interested, and even asked questions after. Plus they told me my presentation was actually interesting, unlike others they've seen. lol. I told them that making a boring presentation would have bored ME, so why would I do that to myself?! haha. And then I went into another one of my regular gr. 12 classes where I spent about half the class talking about Canada-US relations. That was fun! And the students got quite interested. They kept asking more and more questions. I also did a presentation about Canadian schools with a gr. 10 class yesterday, but they were a little shy when it came to the question period. haha. They were really nice, though.

It's strange, because I've realized that when I go up there and just act like myself the students really seem to enjoy it. I'm actually funny! Like, seriously, people laugh. AND NOT AT ME. (I knew that's what some of you were thinking...jerks...) They genuinely find me humourous. I've discovered that being all stiff and rigid turns people off like crazy. (I don't think I'm capable of being stiff and rigid in front of a class, but I have seen some prime examples. Heck, I want to have a good time teaching! I don't wanna spend the rest of my life with a career as some boring spinster with a rod shoved up her behind...I'm gonna be an oober-cool spinster with a great sense of fashion and an interest in what and WHOM she teaches....at least that's the general goal...) The students really seem to relate to me and I hope it's something I can keep up as the years go by. I hope I don't get all outdated and lose my sense of knowing how to reach them. I mean, obviously I'm there to teach. But learning should not exclude 'fun' and 'interesting'. At least in my opinion. Then again, what do I know? I haven't been teaching for 15 years...Maybe I've got it all wrong. I'll let you know once I know.

Peace out.

Laughing Matters...

... is the name of a book by Canadian Christian comedian, Phil Callaway, that my mom brought along to Germany and left for me to read. I randomly started it out of boredom and am now actually really thankful I read it. I think it was His answer to some of my questions. :) He chooses the most interesting and often unexpected ways to answer us, doesn't He?

Anyways, one paragraph stood out to me in particular and made me think of my brother, Tim. My wonderful irreplaceable brother who always seems to stuff his life with responsibilities to the point of busting. At least, normal people would bust. He's studying to become a doctor, working practically full-time as a paramedic, is a newlywed, and is still finishing building a house. He rarely takes time for himself. He is one of the most generous and least selfish persons I know and I have taken it upon myself as his caring bratty little sister to every so often remind him that a stress-related embollism might not be the best career move right now. But as I was typing out the passage from Phil Callaway's book I realized that it was actually a good reminder for all of us. I wish I had read it while I was still in Canada, where countless days went by during which I think I forgot to inhale and exhale regularly. As many of you know, this year in Germany was partly for experience' sake, partly for interest's sake, and partly for RELAXATION' sake. Yet now that I suddenly had the TIME to take it easy, maybe sit on the couch and read a book from cover to cover, watch 3 movies in a row, or simply SLEEP, I found feelings of guilt creeping up inside of me.

The following paragraph cured me. :)

"Next time you drop your Palm Pilot in the breadmaker, remember that it could be a sign you need to slow down. A man sent his psychiatrist a postcard that read: "Am having a great time on vacation. Wish you were here to tell me why." While reading the story of Jesus, I discovered that He often took a break. No one in history accomplished more, yet He did so without acquiring an ulcer. Where did we get the notion that relaxation is selfish? The truth is, there is nothing productive about a coronary. There is nothing spiritual about a nervous breakdown. Rest allows us to
recharge our batteries and reorganize our priorities. In fact, rest is Christlike. So learn to say no. It is much more useful than learning to speak Latin."

I concur.

pajama pants, heidi klum, and little brats

Confession: I didn't actually really journal during the second week that my mom, Andee, and Brenda were out here. I seriously had no time. We went to Berlin on Monday (got up at 4 am, got home at 10pm), Tuesday we went shopping and to see some traditional Vogtland stuff, Wednesday we went to Dresden, Thursday we went to Eilenburg and Leipzig, Friday we went shopping again and had supper with old family friends, and Saturday the three ladies had to get all their stuff packed and take a taxi to Munich for their flight the next day. We were actually gonna drive them there Sunday morning but seeing as how they managed to stuff the Manitoban winter with them in their suitcases it basically snowed for, like, 3 days straight in Ellfeld. Roads were really bad and we didn't want to chance them missing their flights Sunday morning by not getting there in time. So they left Saturday afternoon and spent the night in the Munich airport - unpleasant I'm sure, but I wasn't there.... As soon as they left I went to visit my friend Christina for a few hours and then met up with another friend Claudia after that. Busy busy. Um, on Sunday there was church and I hung out with my "brother" Sebastian (aka. part of my rental family, as mentioned in previous blog entries) and one of his friends in the evening, and then kept myself awake with the ever so lovely "Black Snake Moan" until the Oscars started at 1am. I mean, heck, I was not about to miss Hugh Jackman as the host. HELLO. LOVE OF MY SECRET HOLLYWOOD LIFE. Ahem. Anyways...I lasted until 3:30 am and then crawled into bed. Ya, that was the last week of the holidays. See, not much to report...



Ok, but now onto the list of what I wanted to write about today. Okay, let me check... (yes seriously, i have a written list. but it's short...)



1) It's 8.9 degrees celsius outside. +. +. !!! In the sun yesterday it was +20 at one point! I hung up my laundry outside in pj pants and a t-shirt. neener neener neeeeeeener!!!! (you may detect a hint of immaturity there, but I prefer to call it my personal fountain of youth. I shall never age... ???)



2) Miracle of miracle I found pajama pants in the LAND OF NO PAJAMA PANTS... aka germany. seriously, you can't find a nice pair of normal pj pants to save your skin! And while you may not be able to imagine a situation in which your life depends on the discovery of said pair of pj pants, imagine sleeping in a bedroom at 9 degrees celsius for 5 months with only itsy-bitsy teeney-weeny shorts. ya. that's right. anyways, the point of me writing extensively about one of the possiby most mundane topics on the freaking globe ... aka. pajama pants in case you hadn't caught on yet ... is the fact that I happened to glance at the tag in my pants the other day. (Does that sound dirty? I didn't mean it to...) Anywho, on the tag is printed in BOLD red letters: KEEP AWAY FROM FIRE.

Um ................. OK ..................... I mean, I had started to make a habit of roasting my pyjama pants over a bonfire like a freaking hotdog wiener, but since the all-commanding tag suggests refraining from my absolute favourite new hobby I shall abide by the scary BOLD red print. Oh no! Hand ... slowly ... subconsciously ... creeping ... toward box of matches ... Must ... stop ... myself. Must ... not ... set .... fire .... to ... PANTS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Whew, that was a close one...



??????????



3) I am now employed at a kindergarten approximately 7km away from where I live! I think I blogged a while back about this lady who asked me to possibly come to her kindergarten once a week and play with the kids in English. Well I met with her on Thursday and I decided to do it! From 10am - 3pm every Thursday I'll be at the Tausendfuessler Kindergarten rolling in the dirt with the cutest snotty-nosed future bankers, cut-throat businessmen/women, CEOs, hairdressers, teachers, and plumbers. Sounds like a good time to me! And all I have to do is make sure I don't speak in German. At all. Ever. I think that's gonna be the hardest part for me. lol. And surprise of all surprises they're PAYING me to do this! 300 euros til the end of May, which is when I leave Eilenburg. SWEET! I totally was thinking this was a volunteer thing. lol. Woot woot.



4) So the new season of Germany's Next Top Model has started. I'm addicted and it's on my one free week-day evening, which rocks. Well, it starts after my evening English tutoring class, anyways, so I should always be able to catch it. Anyways, so Heidi Klum, Germany's most famous supermodel/wife of Seal is the host. And lately she has been sporting a very pretty but very simple hair style



I kept thinking throughout this last Thursday's entire episode: "It's not fair! Her hair looks so effortless and simple and gorgeous. I ONLY do simple things with my hair and it never looks like that! I mean, she also happens to have a perfect face to set the tone and all, but still!" Anyways, and then I happened to watch red!, Germany's version of Entertainment Tonight, where they happened to interview Heidi Klum's hair stylist. Which is where I found out that during the months of filming Germany's Next Top Model she goes to Heidi Klum's house EVERY MORNING FOR TWO HOURS to do her hair so that Heidi can be at home with the kids. Uh....huh.... Imagined scenario in my twisted mind -> Heidi: "Children whose names I can't remember because I haven't had time for you since I climbed from the hostpital bed into the makeup chair after each respective birth, go play while mommy gets turned into Barbie..." How does getting your hair done for 2 hours in the same house the size of Rhode Island that your children are somewhere also occupying qualify as quality time with your kids? And she gets GOOD press for having her stylist come to her so that she's home for her kids! Now, I'm not saying I think Heidi Klum is a bad mother. Heck, maybe she's awesome. Maybe she does spend buttloads of time with them. She always seems like a super fun grounded woman in interviews and on Germany's Next Top Model. But how can one of the most simple hairstyles on the face of god's green earth POSSIBLY require 2 hours of PROFESSIONAL hair styling??? Mirror Mirror on the wall...ANSWER ME THIS! Please...I WANT to understand. Heck, if some Hollywood guru spent that kind of time on my hair I could be a super model too. Ok, from the shoulders up...



Well, that's it. Aren't you glad my blog list for today only had 4 things on it???

more vacay...

Written February 12th - warning: it's a lengthy one.



Yesterday we took the train to France.


How cool is that? I mean, you travel a couple of hours in any direction out here and you’re in a completely different country. You do that in Canada and chances are you're still in the same freaking province! It only took us 1.5 hours and three trains to make it to the French city of Strasbourg (which used to be German for a while…hence the German-sounding name). There’s actually not much to tell about this day - you have to have SEEN it, been there, taken it in for yourself. As cliche as it sounds. We spent all afternoon just walking around the city and taking in all the sites. I found it kind of amazing that we had barely crossed the border but you could already tell it wasn’t a German city. I can’t explain it. Just the architecture and the … well …everything. It was just French.


It is also home to one of the most amazing cathedrals I’ve ever seen. I know I say that all the time, but every church I go to seems to be cooler than the last. It’s called the Notre Dame of Strasbourg for a reason! I mean the detailing of everything! It just takes your breath away. And to think they built something so awe-inspiring in the freaking 12th century! I mean, it’s practically unimaginable that they were even capable of such a task. It never ceases to amaze me. I wish I could describe the outside of that church to you. It was … it was… oh never mind. go visit it yourself one day :)


You know what's funny? I realized just a week or two ago that I actually feel closest to God when I'm in one of these amazing cathedrals or churches. If I really take the time to just sit down and think and pray. I just look at the amazingness around me and am in awe of what people were capable of when trying to express their adoration and love of God. Now obviously a lot of these cathedrals were built for ... let's say less divine ... reasons. Kings and emporers who wanted to show up the neighbouring monarch; greedy, power-hungry bishops and supposed men of God who wanted to attract tourists, pilgrims, and commerce (yes, even in the 12th century!); starving carpenters and masons who simply needed to provide for their families and put food on the table, with possibly no second thoughts about WHAT exactly they were building. Or for Whom. But it just doesn't matter to me. I look at the grandeur and simply see arches reaching to a heaven I can only dream about. I look at the altar covered in gold with the most splendid paintings and sculptures you can imagine and see just a glimpse of the greatness that I will one day be standing in front of. I can become completely still and sense His presence filling the endless caverns of these cold stone structures. So while Tennessee Bob, his wide-as-tall fake blondie face-lifted wife, Wendy, and his 3 bratty, spoiled-beyond-all-comprehension, all-American offspring annoyingly twang their unasked-for opinions at 30,000 decibles about the "old-school" stained glass windows with no regard to the rest of the visitors...while Japanese school groups traips noisily down one aisle and up the next, Kodaks and Canons flashing like a freaking pack of papparazzi, causing other tourists to drop like flies as epileptic seizures make the rounds ...while some sulky German/Canadian/French/whatever teenager gazes completely uninterestedly at the image of a crucified Christ muttering something about having better things to do with her time ... I can find a stillness and peace that I hadn't found anywhere else before. And it seems that this is the reason I have found myself attracted to every single historical church building out here, even though I didn't understand it myself at first.



Back to Strasbourg... :)
My mom, my aunt, and I climbed the church tower. 329 steps up. I think it was something like 66 metres. And the view was so cool. Absolutely no organization or purpose in the city’s layout. It’s weird to think that a place like that started out as some village in the medieval times and obviously everyone just kind of settled down where they felt like it with no regards for city planning or transportation logistics. Lol. It looked exactly like I imagined the view of Paris from the top of the cathedral when I read Victor Hugo’s “Hunchback of Notre Dame”. Exactly how I imagined France. I mean, I’d been there before, but as a young teenager and I just wasn’t able to appreciate any of it properly. I feel like I could pack up my stuff today and move there. I would relearn French, buy a beret, master yelling all nasal-like at people on the street like a real French person, and just read books all day long at outdoor cafes. Doesn't that sound like a dream??


One of the best parts of yesterday was pulling out my school French. Man I have forgotten a lot! But it was so fun to see what I could still understand and stuff. Thankfully I always knew enough to order our meals and understand the cashiers in stores. Before we got to Strasbourg I was pretty nervous about the language thing. I thought I’d feel like such a fool with my stammering and flawed attempts at one of the world’s most beautiful languages, not to mention my terror of the notorious French disdain for foreigners and tourists who either butcher or on the other hand don’t even attempt to speak their language. But actually everyone was super nice! I mean, Strasbourg clerks are obviously used to tourists since they’re so close to the German border and almost all of them can speak German as well as English, but I always spoke French to them for fun. I didn’t think I would enjoy pulling out my rusty cob-webby remnants of a language that has been lazily dozing away in my brain for the past 5 years, but I had a blast! And the lady in the bakery where we bought REAL FRENCH ECLAIRS (which I'd been waiting 10 years for) told me my French was excellent. Lol. I mean, I know she was just being sweet and I think she meant my lack of terrible accent was surprising, cuz that’s one thing I’m really good at in most languages, but either way, it totally made my day. And people - there was a bakery on every street corner. Plus another 2 or 3 bakeries between the street corner bakeries. Seriously. And a chocolatier beside every baker. INSANE! How do French people stay so tiny??? (What did you say, Jordan, about me not obssessing about weight and food??? lol) I have never been in shops like those. Anything you’ve ever imagined about French specialty chocolate shops … is true. But better. Oh, and the CLOTHING STORES! Honestly, it’s no wonder that French people are always dressed impeccably. Every store is just filled with the most amazing fashion sense! I didn’t see one poorly dressed person all day. The girls in their brightly-coloured leggings, crazy boots, peasant pea-coats, with half-curly windswept dark hair and cute hats. The guys in dressy well-fitting jeans, Lacoste shirts and sweaters with HOT dress jackets and always the perfect scarf around their necks. And much less hair gel than German boys. Just the right amount. I mean, there wasn’t any BAD fashion. And most of it was high-end. French people don’t have a choice but to dress beautifully. I tried to find a French vogue, but no luck. I’ll try again in June when I go back. :)

Um, ok, so I said there wasn’t much to tell about France, but apparently I was wrong. Lol.
We finished the day with supper in a ‘traditional’ French restaurant called Le Gruber. I had onion cake and salad. Actually quite decent. I mean, I would never recommend the restaurant to anyone cuz it was some of the slowest and worst service I’ve ever seen (even though we were the only ones in the place, seeing as how French people don’t eat supper at 6pm), plus the waitress spilled my aunt’s beer on her … and didn’t even APOLOGIZE!!! ??? Whatevs. It was fun to spend the evening complaining about the service and debating whether we should forewarn the incoming customers. :P
Ya, so then we took the French train (TGV) back to Germany and were back at my aunt and uncle’s at about 10pm. I scored: an oober-cool tanktop that is just oh-so-French and a black peacoat that was super on sale and is just what I’ve been looking for all winter! Yay. But I’d have to say the éclairs were the highlight of my day. I’d been looking forward to them all week.
Well, I think that’s all I’ve got for now. It snowed overnight and it’s actually coming down quite thick now too. We’ve got quite a layer of the heavy giant flakes (it’s about +1 degrees) and I’m looking forward to going for a walk this afternoon.

Hope ya’ll are having as good a week as we are. I can hardly believe my mom, Andee, and Brenda have been here for a whole week already! Folks, enjoy every minute cuz you’re never gonna get them back. Even if you’re at work or changing your two-year-old’s diaper or watching yelling at the computer because of the crappy Internet connection...ok ok, so the last one is directed at me. Take hold of that second. And the next. And the one after that. One day you’re going to wonder where it all went.

Apparently watching this incredibly gorgeous snowfall is making me feel all philosophical… :P

next batch of pics...

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=105348&id=573967603&l=6fa4c