World Tour - Croatia

I left Philadelphia International Airport on March 16 at 11:30 at night, stopped off in London for four hours and touched down in Hamburg at 5 the next evening.

I came home to the apartment and met Susie from high school. Susie had not been in the same room since graduation from high school. But we got in touch about two years ago and have been email besties since then. She mailed me several pounds of pecans that I used to make several pies. Yes!

Like always, I was nervous. I am always nervous. Would things be as cool in real life as they were in virtual life? At first blush, things were great. As things moved along, we were not a perfect match but we were two mature adults and we were great company for each other in Dubrovnik and then in Split, the second-largest city in Croatia.

Croatia rocks! Everyone needs to go there. The people are friendly, the red wine is great, the shopping is magical, and the landscapes are unbelievable.



I am so glad that I had such an adventurous traveler with me. We have different approaches to life but no one threw up their hands. I discovered that I snore terribly. Susie was amazing and patient. I moved my bed and we got separate hotel rooms after sharing a suite. She is much more of a morning person and a chatterer than I am and she didn't hate.

Croatia focuses on the late spring and the summer. So many activities were not possible but it was great to see the Old Town section of Dubrovnik. We walked along the walls. Susie was patient with my fear of heights. We were like 100 feet above the Adriatic Sea and I was terrified. At one point, I crawled down steps on my butt because vertigo would not let me attack the area on my feet.

The retirement home of a ancient Roman emperor, Diocletius, is located in the middle of Split. It was amazing.

Croatia uses history, instead of putting yellow tape around it. At one point, people moved into the upper levels of the Diocletian Palace. In the 1970s and '80s, drug dealers called the warren of streets home. After the "Recent War," the label that everyone that all the native Croatians gave the 1990s domestic war in Yugoslavia, the government decided to treasure the ruin. Instead of kicking everyone out, people and businesses still call the area home.

Croatia reminded me of Italy. There was lots of pastas, wine, olives, relaxed atmosphere,flash, and shopping.

Plus, it is cheap.

I miss Croatia.

World Tour - Germany

On the third day of visiting in New York, I returned to Philadelphia. The city of my birth and the city where I have spent most of my life.

With Philadelphia, either you get it or you don't. I get it.

After living in spotless Germany, I can see the dirt. I never really thought the city was as dirty as natives who call it Filthadelphia. Now I do. But I love the dirt. I love the sunflower seeds that people spit all over the subway floor. I love the crumbling houses in my old neighborhood. I love the smelly elevators in train stations. I love it all.

In addition to scrapple, I wolfed down all the food and drinks unique to Philadelphia. I had Tahitian Treat soda. This soda is allegedly available in America and Canada but I have only seen it in Philadelphia. I had a cheesesteak from Pagano's and a soft pretzel with mustard.

My mom made this visit special. She hung out with us, instead of retreating to her room; made breakfast almost every day; and played games at Dave & Buster's. My birthday celebration started a day early on Sunday, March 13. My mom made a big dinner.

My older sister, Lorie, came up from Maryland. We spent two days watching television and a few hours arguing. But the argument is normal. My younger sister came over for the Sunday dinner. We have a strained relationship but this visit was quite pleasant.

My nephew, Christian, stayed at my mother's house the entire time. It is always a pleasure hanging out with him. He made me a cool video documenting my visit. It was a little long and included not one but two sessions of him dancing alone. It is video gold.

Parting was such sweet sorrow.

Giraffe statutes at a cafe at Heathrow's Terminal 5,
where we stopped while we waited to go from Heathrow to Hamburg.

When we got to Hamburg, Shurea was waiting at our apartment. Shurea and I were friends in high school. We struck up a Internet friendship about a year ago. She put me on her agenda during her European vacation. Two days after I touched down in Hamburg, we left for Croatia.

World Tour - New York

I had not been to New York, since I left September 10, 2008. I hated it when I lived there but I HAD to renew my drivers license. If I did not do it now, I would have to retake the written and road test. It took me too long to pass those the first time, so I was not going to repeat that.

Asmus decided we should stay overnight, so we wouldn't have to rush. All our trips to Meridien hotels resulted in a nice chunk of frequent visitor points. Because Asmus loves a swimming pool, I had two options for hotels and we settled for the Parker Meridien. Uptown, not uptight for $90. Our room was a great and the pool was crazy. When you come out of the pool, some poor college student awaited you with a towel. The only annoying thing about the hotel. It took more than an our to get a price list for the minibar. Asmus could not wait, so we ended up paying $39 for a 8-ounce bottle of Grey Goose.




As we walked from the subway to the hotel, I started to feel the familiarity and I fell in love. Ugh! Asmus noticed me relax and put up the idea of staying an extra night. I said, Yes, please. There we were!

Of course, we had massages.

One of my two favorite restaurants in New York is Cafe Boulud. I decided to take a chance with Daniel Boulud's newest outpost, Bar Boulud. After a day of email tag, I wrangled Tom into dinner at 7:45.

Of course, it was fabulous to see Tom. We just jump into this rhythm. At times, I worry whether Asmus and Tim, Tom's husband, feel left out, so I started directing topics at people. Not very elegant but it is the thought that counts.

Our patient server let us sit there until 11:45. The classic French food and French wine was divine. I like the fact that you get the price of specials in the little specials spiel. I was on such a high after that evening.

That kept me going when I showed up 20 minutes before the Department of Motor Vehicles opened and I discovered I was about the 60th person in line. We waited on the street until the office opened. When the office opened, the crowd was divided and the visit went quickly. I am now legal to drive. Look out world.

During our three days in New York, Asmus and I saw the movies, Adjustment Bureau and HappyThankYouMorePlease. I had movie theater hot dogs, movie theater popcorn with fake butter and two good movies. Life was good.



Of course, there was shopping and television. I almost tore my hair out trying to get two rings I bought for Christmas enlarged. After almost an hour with a saleswoman, I was told I could do it, then I couldn't for both but I could for one, and then finally, I could not do it for either ring. I seethed about that until I met up with my friend Jennifer.

Jennifer had just lost her job. That was much more important than my ring heartache. Her resolve and energy were amazing. We ate and drank and drank and drank.

Good times.

World Tour - Pennsylvania

I finally got home this month.

I have not been in the U.S. of A. since 2009.

In June 2009, I had a little party with friends from various parts and times of my life -- Ginger and Elisa from high school; Jennifer from undergrad study abroad in London and her then-boyfriend; Marie from graduate school; and Tom from Hearst and his husband, Tim. It was a joyous time.

For Christmas 2009, Asmus and I got money to go to Russia. It was burning a hole in our pockets so we used it as soon as possible. We would spend our spring vacation in St. Petersburg and the autumn vacation in America. Unfortunately, my father-in-law got sick, so we stayed in Hamburg when we had planned to be sitting in front of the television watching Judge Mathis.

I got my chance to lap up lots of Judge Mathis, yards of Bob Evans breakfast sausage with sage, pounds of scrapple [For the uninitiated, scrapple is a southeastern Pennsylvania delicacy -- a gray loaf of various meats, spices and grains that is eaten for breakast.], miles of Italian sausage and lots of American television on a television and not on a computer monitor. It was a dream come true.

Plus, there was shopping. Lots of shopping. My fashion tastes are much different than what is sold in Germany. I love color. I like black pants with a cool top. In the summer, I like color everywhere. Here, the range of colors go from black to gray to navy blue. In addition, all my appendages are too big. I got some shoes.

I also hit the supermarket. I returned to Germany with cake mixes and the appropriate icing, grits, vanilla extract [It took me weeks to find vanilla extract in Germany. What I found was expensive. A small bottle costs 10 euros.], and salad dressing. The food purchases required the purchase of a suitcase and paying a extra bag fee. It was worth every penny.

I got to visit Marie and her family in Allentown, Pennsylvania. Along the way to visit Yuengling brewery, we ate at Boston Market. I haven't eaten at this fast food establishment since the 20th century. I don't know if they are all like this but this Boston Market near Dorney Park was marvelous. We ate off real plates and used real flatware. When we done with our roasted chicken, someone from the restaurant cleared the table.

Yuengling, America's oldest brewery, was not as streamlined as most of the breweries Asmus and I had visited in Europe. But, like Holsten, which was the least sophisticated tours of the European breweries, we got see the beer put in bottles. Bottling is the action-packed part of beer making. Even better, at Yuengling we got to walk through the work area during bottling. I could put my hand out and like Shirley Feeney, take a bottle off the line and take a sip. That was the cool part. Despite the constant giggling from our pubescent tour guide, Yuengling was pretty cool. The tour was free, you get two free samples of beer, and you visit the cave where they used to store the beer -- the same thing that was done at the Paulaner brewery in Munich.

It was cool to visit Marie, her husband and children. I hear Evan and Olivia in the background during telephone calls. It was nice to experience the entire package. Olivia was sitting on the floor and then she would get up to get one potato chip, sit down, eat the chip, and then repeat the process until the bowl was empty.

We went from Allentown to New York.

Happy Birthday to Me!

I just got back from a short world tour. Along the way I celebrated my birthday. My first birthday in the U.S. of A. in three years.


There was Food, Folks and Fun!
Mom made a big Sunday dinner the day before my birthday. Both sisters came. Beloved nephew was there. Favorite cousin Louise showed. Louise was a groovy surprise. She called to say that she was in too much pain to come. An hour after we started eating stuffed pork chops, the doorbell rang. Surprise, it was Louise!

After the great food, there was a marathon Taboo session. My German husband and I almost beat a bunch of native Americans.

On my actual birthday, Asmus and I hit a day spa in the Chestnut Hills section of Philadelphia. I had a facial and the best massage that I have ever had. Then Mom picked us up and we headed to Plymouth Meeting, Pennsylvania for the second-happiest place on Earth -- Dave & Buster's. There was ridiculous amounts of food, video shooting games, and, best of all, air hockey.

A good time was had by all.

I was a bit worried about Asmus. My birthday is the same day as my father-in-law. It was the first birthday since Friedrich's death. Asmus said he was fine. It did feel a bit weird having the spotlight to myself but I did enjoy being with my family and friends in my hometown on my birthday.

Oddly enough, I got congratulations from people in Germany. I am not sure why. For the two birthdays I celebrated here, no one said, Happy Birthday, to me. Apparently, absence makes the heart grow fonder. Coincidentally, I got tired of wrangling friends to celebrate for my birthday when I was living in New York and I started taking vacations. Life is a circle. It was nice that people in Germany thought well of me.

The Help

I am not sure how this happened but I became an employer.

My beloved grandmother cleaned hotel rooms at an Atlantic City casino for a bit and my groovy grandfather picked up garbage for a little while. In some perverted form of evolution, I just hired a housekeeper.

I fought it so hard. For most of my time in Germany I worked, but much fewer hours a week than Asmus, so unofficially I became The Cleaner. I did this despite Asmus' repeated requests to hire a housekeeper. I maintained that I am an adult and adults take care of themselves. By last fall, my work schedule had grown from 15 hours a week to 30, including work I did at home. Couple that with weekly trips to Hamburg from Kiel to visit Asmus' ailing father, I became crazy busy and the apartment became a wreck. Then Christmas came and things slowed things down and Asmus and I got things under control. January 3 came around and the chaos returned and was worse than before.




I surrendered. Two weeks ago, we started a search for a housekeeper online. I was quickly depressed.

I was hoping for a nice thick-armed, 45-year-old person. Someone who knows HOW TO CLEAN and shows up. We got four replies. Three of them were in their 20s. One person had a very professional reply. The others were like Queen for a Day applicants. "I'm 29 years old (German companies routinely ask for age, not me. I just hoped to surmise that they had decades of experience, not ask their birth dates.) and just had a baby. I am looking for a job where I can bring my baby to work with me." "I'm a 48-year-old woman who has experience taking care of my big family."

I was tempted to hire everyone, so these families could eat. Instead, we went with the 23-year-old who had experience and offered references and did not mention any babies that she wanted to care for while scrubbing my toilet or a brood of children that she needed to feed. We made an appointment to meet at a cafe across from the apartment. Asmus and I obsessed about what to ask her and whether we should have a test run. Unfortunately, our apartment was so dirty that we had to clean it before our scheduled interview, so there was no chance for a test clean. We had a plan of attack and showed up at the cafe and waited and waited and waited. She never showed.

We contacted the 48-year-old who quickly replied that she had another position.

Then we contacted a 21-year-old woman. Her young age kept her from the top of our list of interviewees. We arranged to meet at cafe Saturday at 12:30. She asked what we looked like, Asmus told her to look for a white man and a Black woman sitting on the first level of the two-level restaurant. When we walked in, I saw a young woman sitting alone and wondered if that was our interviewee. We were supposed to talk at 12:30. 12:30 came and left and I wondered if she was not coming and if the young woman in the corner was our 21-year-old. When 12:34 came, I politely accosted the single lady and my suspicion was proven correct. Of course, I think, "Why am I searching for her? Why isn't she searching for us?" (I am part of the only inter-racial couple in Kiel. That is the reason for my description of Asmus and me.)

We asked one or two questions about her experience that were weakly met. She said she graduated with an abitur, a special type of high school degree that is required to attend college. However, she was working part-time and cleaning the homes of strangers. She said after high school, she had had cancer. Gulp. When we asked when she could start, she said she could try it later in the week because she would be having an operation on Monday. Gulp, gulp.

She cleaned our apartment last Sunday, while we were in Hamburg. I was so eager to see our sparkling, clean apartment. We left for Hamburg with a relatively-clean apartment waiting for Elena. Like most women on Earth, I cleaned a little before the housekeeper came. But not that much.

Upon entering our apartment, the apartment seemed nice but at second glance, it was not. Like Mr. Hyde, I felt my father taken over me. In our two-bedroom apartment, we asked her to clean the bathroom; sweep and mop the floors; vacuum the 6 x 10 rug in the living room; wipe the stove and cabinets; wash two pots; wipe the light switches and the door knobs; and dust the television, my computer and my treadmill. She had two and half hours for that. I gave her two hours and Asmus added the half.

After she cleaned, the living room floor was dirty in spots, the tub and sink were not SCRUBBED, the top of the television was dusty, and my computer and the rug were untouched.

The tub was the thing I noticed. I saw the dirt and felt the scum. Asmus saw nothing until I pointed it out. Then I wasn't sure if I was being insane or correct.

Then Asmus found an email that said she was sorry about the sorry state of the stove. She ran out of time and left. Then I was sure that I was correct -- she sucked and I must say something. She knew that she did not do something right and left it. I would have not mentioned it or I would have stayed 5 minutes and finished the job. People were offering to clean for 8 euros an hour. After we hired Elena, a 16-year-old offered to work for us for four euros an hour. We paid 12 euros an hour. When you pay 50% more than the going rate, you expect a job done correctly.

Asmus scrubbed the tub and sink clean in five minutes while we talked, so he saw that she should not need more time. I won him to my side.

Once I realized that I am perfectly right, then I had to decide how loud I should yell.


It was such an uncomfortable place to be. Do we give a long list of things that she did not do correctly or give her more time to clean? In my opinion, we gave her more than enough time to do the floors, the bathroom and the kitchen but I want to be fair. By "my opinion," I mean the opinion that was screwed into me by my father. I remember cleaning the bathroom and having him run his fingers over the sink and screwing his face up when he felt cleanser residue. I remember my stomach sink and fear rush into it when that happened. He had already asked me if the sink was clean three or four times before, If I go up there and find the sink is dirty, can I beat you? I gave a weak yes (what else can you say to that question?). Fortunately, residue is not dirty but it was not correct. No beating but I had to get back to scrubbing.

While I had the same type of harsh opinion as my father, I did not have the same approach to correction. There was no yelling. Asmus and I lowered the frequency of her visits and raised the time allotment. We also asked her to scrub harder. So Elena will be back in two weeks and have three hours to work, instead of two hours once a week. I will also tell her specifically what I think should be done [Please dust the front, sides and top of the television.] I think this is ridiculous but I am prepared for good things.

Back to Amsterdam

The lights decorating trees reflect off the water in an Amsterdam canal.

Asmus and I continued our streak of entering the new year in foreign country. We rang in 2009 in London (Thanks for the memories Pembury Tavern ).

Last year, we felt 2010 burst onto the scene in Amsterdam's Leidesplein and Heinecken Hoek bar with friends Tanja and Tobi. Last year was great, so this year should be even better, so we went back again. That is not really true. We planned to head back to the Pembury but someone (Please read: my husband) took too long to make plans, so there was not one decent hotel or bed & breakfast with a vacancy. Therefore, we were forced to hang out in Amsterdam.

Good choice.

For some reason, we got a room upgrade last year. We got a huge executive room with a whirlpool with a television aimed at it a few feet away from it. This year we had to stay in a junior suite. We suffered through a massive room with a free minibar that was replenished every day. The first night, two adults plowed through the Champagne, red wine, white wine, beer, vodka and gin. It was New Year's Eve!

We also had a whirlpool. But the best amenity were lots of channels in English. I have been staying at a lot of hotels lately. For some reason, hotels boast that they have channels in various languages, including English. Ninety-eight percent of the time this means CNN and/or BBC World News. How refreshing after a long day of sightseeing! Like the Hamburg Park-Hyatt, the Grand Amrath, Amsterdam, had BBC1 and BBC2. Plus, there was the British version of the Travel Channel. There was no Anthony Bourdain or Samantha Brown but it was interesting for a few minutes at a clip.

Besides all the amenities, the hotel was cool by design. It did not have the Rem Koolhaas touch. The hotel is located in the former home of several prominent shipping companies. The hotel had all the modern touches but maintained the Art Deco elements, like stained glass, and several hallmarks of the home of economic powerhouses, like a grand marble staircase.




Of course, I was still walking in fear on December 31. I think everyone with two hands gets fireworks for Christmas in Europe. I never knew when there would be a small explosion. Loud noises shake me up. Random loud noises break me down. Once inside a noisy club everything was good. Heineken Hoek is not some hipster lounge or some cool pub. It is a bar with loud music that can be good at times that sits on the Leidesplein. I can watch the fireworks and the festivities without being scared by them. Lame, yes. But it works.

Amsterdam was all that it should be. We had food from Morocco and Indonesia. We walked through the canals. We had massages. And we rang in 2011 in Leidesplein and at Heineken Hoek.

I think I smell tradition.

The Ghost of Christmas Just Past

The family Christmas tree

Christmas has come and gone. I do not have children but I seem to be getting ready for the occasion for weeks. I cannot exactly pinpoint what all the mental preparations are about but there are many and varied.

This Christmas had the potential for problems.

I am a major fan of Thanksgiving and Christmas. The biggest family arguments have happened on both occasions but I still look forward to my family Christmases. The spending time with people who have known you the longest, the beautiful tree, the board games, the movies, the food, and, best of all, the gift exchange. I love giving gifts. I love giving the perfect gift and seeing the reaction. And I love getting free things. I like getting things that cost me no money and no energy. Asmus' family is much less boisterous. Since moving to Germany, I learned that I like chaos. Silence, cleanliness and lateness are in my blood. I miss my family traditions.

Also, this would be the first Christmas without Asmus' father. I was not sure how that would play out, so I was anxious.

Add to all that, Asmus' and my promise to cook for Christmas. His mother's sister spends about three weeks with her sister. Unfortunately, she has been battling a form of cancer that will be an intermittent part of her life forever. Thanks to the medicines that have been keeping her alive, she cannot digest meat, fatty fish or complex carbs, like pasta, well. Plus, she was always lactose intolerant. Margot does not like beef. With all these dietary guidelines in mind, Asmus and I had to create a delicious meal. We settled on taco or baba ganoush. Neither Renate nor Margot had ever heard of either. After we found them images online, they chose baba ganoush.

Baba ganoush is a puree of eggplant, a sesame paste, cilantro, lemon and cumin. It is a staple of the Arab world. I serve it with falafel, pita, lettuce, tomato, onion and hot sauce. Not exactly the traditional Christmas dish but it was a hit! Whew!

After dinner, we exchanged gifts. Asmus claims to be a terrible gift giver but I have always found him competent. This Christmas I began to suspect that he was correct. He bought this wooden face that is used to hold eyeglasses for his older brother. Thankfully, Jakob thought it was cute. I think it is a bit creepy but cute. Like a wooden E.T.




In Germany, Weihnachten lasts for a few days. The festivities begin the evening of December 24. Families exchange gifts and go to church. On the 25th, they visit their extended family. The next day, they visit friends.

On Christmas Eve I coaxed everyone into playing Uno. I am a veteran and I lost to novices. Over and over again. Margot would put out a Wild card and choose a color that she did not have. But Skips and Reverses kept me out of the action. After a few demoralizing hands of Uno, we moved onto the film part of the evening. Harold & Maude was going to be the perfect end. Except it wasn't. The image just kept jumping. To save space, I put to movies in one case. Instead of calling it a night, I put in Shrek Forever After. I am not sure if the septuagenarians grasped the comic genius because they discussed the possible time period and whether it was too violent.

It was a silent night but a fun night. Because Asmus' father was not very vocal in the presence of his gregarious sister-in-law, Christmas was not as difficult as I feared.

Asmus and I maintained the American tradition of exchanging gifts on the 25th. I was so really sad when he excited plugged in his massage cushion and nothing happened. I bought a new one today and has been using it as much as the directions allow. Home run!

Winter Ire

I have many, many personality deficits. One of my relatively few pluses is an acceptance of the uncontrollable. This includes the weather.

Winter is cold. I got that. I don't complain about the cold; I gird myself against it. I spent a lot of money on the kind of long underwear that people wear when climbing mountains. I wear earmuffs . . . a lot. My ears are always cold. Problems start in November and I boldly withstand the questions and the complaints about the early use of the apparatus. When it gets really cold, I wear ski gloves. I am prepared for the cold.

When it snows, I stay in for the first day. After that I wear boots and move slow. I am prepared for the snow.

I am not prepared for the darkness of northern German winters. Come to think of it, I am not prepared for the northern German summers either. Because of its high latitude, it is dark much of the day in the winter and light much of the day in the summer. Now, I leave the house in the darkness and reach for an afternoon tea with the moon as my guide.

Ugh.

The view out of my bedroom window on December 22, 2010 at 7:02 a.m.

Hot off the Presses!

I updated and wrote new information for the chapter on Hamburg for Fodor's Germany 2011 guide. It is on bookshelves now.

This book is for:

People who want to support me

People who are going to visit Germany soon

People who love good writing. Writing reminiscent of a mature Toni Morrison.