Back to Berlin (but most of the pics are still on Carrie's camera in Portland)

Mom at the Jewish Memorial

Potzdamer Platz- we had dinner here the first night I arrived, since it was within walking distance of our hotel.

The Lego Giraffe at Potzdamer.

A section of the wall that was painted.

The Brandenberg Gate.

A nice truck-- the driver stopped for mom to take this photo even though the light turned green!

Oh great, I'm forgetting now. I think this is the Dome of something.

Cool statues.

Where they had essentially a free outdoor museum on Berlin and the wall. In Alexanderplatz. Also some sort of Michael Jackson thing was going on. We were so lucky to hear, "Heal the World" at least two times while we were reading.


More another day, perhaps!

"To be free, you must see things as they are."

From Paul Theroux's, "The Elephanta Suite".

"Not a journey anymore, not an outing or an interlude, but seeing the world; not taking a trip, not travel with a start and a finish, but living her life. Life was movement"

In the last few days, I've been sipping the words of this book, a mind-holing read from Paul Theroux. He also writes non-fiction, travel accounts, but this was a fictional story set in India, a country which changed everything in my mind about life and travel, in the three short weeks I was there in 2005. This book feels India.

I've been sitting at home all morning, mostly on my orange sofa, with fresh French press coffee, beans from Stumptown in Portland, remnants of my mom and sister's visit. Reflecting on time and space, after finishing my read. Radiohead. Elliott Smith. Pearl Jam. Others on the Ipod. Sunlight streams. Pajamas remain.

"Life is movement." A perfect quote in this time of life. My family gone. My grandma died.

I am here. Still and quiet.

Wondering sometimes what it's all about. What is next. Planning trips. Istanbul? Athens? Tunisia? Bucharest? Three-day weekends coming up, plans should be made.

I've injured my foot. So the Prague marathon is a big question mark.

But life is movement, right? I am moving... even when standing still.

"You went away from home and moved among strangers. No one knew your history or who you were; you started afresh, a kind of rebirth. Being whoever you claimed to be, was a liberation."

Living here, in Germany, on my seventh month now, brings questions, only occasionally, what will happen next? Thinking about taking another year or two to travel when my contract is up. Or a change in career. How not to move back to the States.

That part about moving amongst strangers. No expectations. Maybe that's why I have the best relationship with my family when I am away. We are more friendly, less expectational.

Over here, I am free to be whoever I want here. It's true. I am more me than ever. Calm, free, peace.

A semi-traumatic ending to an emotional month of visitors

The good news is, Carrie and mom have flights out of Amsterdam tomorrow.

After watching flights, and realising that Nuremberg is still canceling most of their flights and the volcanic activity could continue, we decided that perhaps they could get to Amsterdam and then fly from there. So this afternoon, Carrie called Delta and was able to get my mom on the last seat to Minneapolis tomorrow afternoon and herself on the flight in the morning directly to Portland.

We'd looked at trains to Amsterdam, and there were regular overnight departures, so we figured they'd have to leave this evening between 5:30 and 7:00 after we celebrated mom's birthday.

At 2pm, they went to the Vilseck train station, where they are so good and so nice. The overnight connections would've required 6-7 train changes in order to get in early enough for Carrie to catch the morning flight. So the woman told them they needed to leave at 2:34, which was 20 minutes notice. They called me at my office phone. I was so sad not to be able to say goodbye, but I was in the middle of a family of four childrens eye exams.

I started to see one of the boys again, and then stopped, and asked the mom if she'd mind if I was gone for 20-30 minutes to say goodbye and drop some things off. She said, "Just go! You were so nice and didn't say anything when we were late."

So I sped off for the train station, and arrived about ten minutes later. They were still waiting. I ran up and gave them hugs. My mom said, "How'd you get here this fast?" We were all crying and five minutes later, they were gone.

I just hope they make their flights in Amsterdam. The Nuremberg airport is small, the planes tiny. And for the last few days, they'd just been sitting at home trying to figure out how to get on an earlier flight, and whether or not their flights would even leave...

So I came home to an empty house. A birthday cake with "H-ash-py Birthday Mutti!" and no slices out of it. Should I light candles and blow them out for mom?

It was a weird month... starting with Carrie and my crazy drive through Croatia war zone, to mom and Carrie getting so sick for a week, to Grandma suddenly dying, and then the volcano canceling their flights... Why was I surprised when they almost had to leave without saying goodbye?

I will just say I am so happy they came and spent a month with me. I am so happy that I was given my family in this life. It was wonderful to have them. I hope the rest of their travels go without a hitch.

Running thoughts... Grandma Hazel

I made it through 22 miles today. It was not horrid. It was not fantastic. But I'm done with my longest run before the marathon in three weeks. It is mostly a mental game. The first 13 miles were fine, then the last 9, I had to do a lot of self pep-talk. I felt ok afterward. Stretched. Ate a banana, some yogurt, broccoli. Hopped in the tub. Then felt like passing out and nauseated. Good times. Why am I doing this again?

One of the things I love about running is the time to think. To let my mind wander without course or worry. I think it's the mental health aspect of running that's one of the best benefits.

Today I kept thinking, "I can't believe Grandma's dead." Over and over. Earlier I'd received one of the nicest cards from Karen and Rick to share with my mom and sister. I think being away when someone dies allows you to pretend it didn't happen. This week (of course) I've had the urge to call Grandma. It's so hard to believe that I can't ever talk to her again. There's a DVD of the prayer service and funeral. I've been wondering whether or not I should watch it. But today I decided that it might help with closure and reality.

I've been remembering Grandma a lot this last week. Her generosity, her laugh, how she always asked, "How's your love life?" when I called but didn't really care that I wasn't married and had no kids. She was so accepting. How she had told me lots of little truths through the years on our phone calls. And sometimes we'd be laughing like idiots the entire call. I wonder how many people are lucky enough to have a Grandma like that?

She was the most generous person I know. And creative. When I graduated from optometry school, she found an old pair of her super-thick hyperopic glasses and doctored up the case and then taped two Ben Franklins to the inside of the lenses. It was the neatest gift I've ever received. I didn't even want to take the Ben Franklins out. So sweet.

When Molly called to tell us she died, I thought, "Now it's just us." Meaning my mom and sisters and me. Grandma always seemed like she was in our family of girls. She just fit with us.

It's hard to believe she is gone. No more hugs. No more sneaking in her back door to surprise her on our way through town. No more talks about life.

I guess I'll take Grandma's advice and be happy that I had her in my life for 33 years. And that we were so close to her. She was a treasure to have around and someone who I'll look up to for the rest of my life.

To Grandma Hazel, who danced on tables and laughed right up to the end, I love you.

Marathon-lasting exhaustion

I've been training for a marathon for several months, and now have had two horridly pathetic weeks of training and the third is off to a poor start, with lingering flu symptoms. I have to get this back in order or will risk limping through the 26.2 miles on May 9th. At 5:07PM tonight, I already felt ready for bed. Does it mean I'm a grandma? Do I need to get my pajamas on? Or is it just recovering from essentially 19 days of company, which I loved but was also difficult to keep up working full time and sight-seeing and visiting. I have hit the wall.

If I go to bed at 6:00, I'll surely wake up at midnight and beat myself up for crashing like an infant. So instead, I will prop myself against the couch and wait for the sun to dip in the sky. Perhaps I'll lay out my clothes for tomorrow so I can get up a little later.

I am soooooo tired!