In Italian, because when in
Rome Amalfi …
In Italian, because when in
Rome Amalfi …
At nighttime, the village glowed yellow as the light bounced off the stone walls and roads.
It felt like the set of a movie.
And I kept chasing the leading man through the shadows.
Sometimes I think I have the maturity level of an 11-year-old.
Other times, I am absolutely convinced of it.
We’ll be walking around someplace beautiful, and instead of taking in the amazing architecture or historical significance of the place, I’ll be doubled over, laughing hysterically because there are two stray cats getting it on in the distance.
And then I’ll take, like, two photos of the UNESCO site that we’ve trekked to, and like, THREE DOZEN of the mating cats.
On our last morning in Germany, we went to Seeshaupt.
I was absolutely not drunk, but some of my photos seem to suggest otherwise. I can only assume that wandering around a picturesque lake on a quiet morning has an intoxicating effect on me, and that I shouldn’t drive after visiting one.
I also shouldn’t drive because I will spend far too much time searching for something called a chococult. Though to be fair, that’s true when Rand’s behind the wheel, too. (But more on that in a moment.)
Seeshaupt is rather lovely, and is located on the Starnberger See (which, despite the homophonic tendencies, is not actually a sea but a lake). If you go early on a Sunday morning in the springtime, you’ll find that the air still carries a chilly edge to it, and the water is remarkably still and clear. The only sounds are the calls of a few birds, the constant hum of buzzing insects, and the occasional chime of a church bell.
If you have the misfortune of being there when I am around, that soundtrack will also be punctuated with me making lots of terrible jokes. My apologies. (In my defense, I was provoked.)
My dad lives in a small Bavarian village about an hour outside of Munich. I usually don’t blog about it, even though it’s crazy adorable, because it’s also immensely sleepy and boring. The little hamlet shuts down after 6 or 7 pm on weekdays. And pretty much all day on weekends. And Mondays, too. It’s virtually closed whenever it rains, or if it’s chilly out, or when it’s too sunny to do anything. Also, on holidays dedicated to random saints you’ve never heard of (St. Klaus of Kartoffelsalat, St. Franz of Ausfahrts, and others*), which seem to happen every other day or so.
If someone could explain to me why St. Sigfried of Wochenender’s Day is celebrated on a Tuesday, that would be very helpful.
The point is, there isn’t very much to do. I doubt you’d find it all that interesting. But that’s kind of why we love it. Sometimes, when life is really overwhelming and crazy (and for Rand, it often is), there’s nothing better that being bored out of your skull, you know?
I have trouble describing my dad. He’s not incredibly cheerful, but he isn’t melancholy, either. I don’t think anyone would call him warm, nor would it be accurate to say that he’s unfriendly.
If I were forced to put his demeanor into words, I’d say he’s rather serious, and often rather annoyed. His annoyance usually stems from the fact that everyone else around him is failing to be serious.
Yes. That sounds about right.
This makes it rather difficult to take a photo with my dad, because for the most part, photo-taking is not serious business. And the command to stand and smile while someone snaps picture after picture of you can annoy just about anybody.
Consequently, I’ve stopped asking him to pose for pictures, and just nab a few candid snapshots when I can.
But on this trip, he was uncharacteristically chipper.
It was kind of weird.
So Rand and I decided to press our luck. We made my dad take a few photos with us. And, well, they turned out quite nice.
Here’s my dad with Rand:
Rand and I got home last night. Since we landed, I’ve been waging a losing battle against jet-lag. It is 9:15 am, and I really want to go to sleep, which, even if you take into account ALL of the time zones I’ve visited in the last few weeks, makes zero sense (depending on which location my body got stuck in, it is either 12:15pm or 5:15pm, neither of which are appropriate times for curling up and going to sleep). As best as I can figure out, I’m on Papua New Guinea time.
I have never been to Papua New Guinea, but it is presently 2:15 am Thursday there. Which feels about right.
As soon as we left Italy, Rand and I started to have a little bit of perspective on it. On our way home, we spent one more night in Germany, and two in Boston (I guess that counts as taking the scenic route), and when people asked how the Amalfi coast was, we both answered to effect of this:
It was beautiful. And stressful as hell.
That, in brief, is southern Italy. It is lovely and infuriating. Something will inevitably happen that will cause me to think, “I’m never coming back here,” and then, in nearly the same breath, I’ll be planning our next trip to Naples and trying to convince my husband that we need to buy a summer home in my family’s village, which is hilarious for lots of reasons, not the least of which is this: we don’t even own a regular home, and I want to buy a summer one.
The entire country makes me absolutely lose my mind. I detest it. I can’t wait to go back. (more…)
Helloooo from … the east coast of the United States? Yeah, that sounds about right. It’s presently 6:40 am in Boston, is where I woke up this morning. Which means it’s afternoon in the country that we just left yesterday, and it’s not quite 4am at home. A brief equation:
[3:40 am - (5 hours of sleep) / (I really need a cookie) ] + (where did I put my clean underwear?) = I DON’T KNOW WHERE I LIVE ANYMORE.
I really shouldn’t be on the internet right now because I’m way, waaay too zonked, but I’ve gotten a few emails from people asking when I was going to post again, and I’m feeling massively guilty about that (you can take the girl out of Catholicism but you can’t take Catholicism out of the girl, you know?)
Am I rambling? I probably am. Dear god, I need a cookie. But before I do that (SEE HOW I SUFFER?) here is a preview of the Germany portion of our trip. 10 photos, courtesy of my husband’s cell phone (which means that there are actually pictures of me amongst them, in a slightly more awake state than I am now. Which, to be fair, isn’t hard to do).
I was going to make it 12 photos of Bavaria but you guys, MY COOKIE LEVEL IS TOO LOW.
I’ll be back on Wednesday with some proper posts. In the meantime, here’s a little sneak peak at what we got up to.