Learning is Homeopathic

International travel it is at the same time enlightening and overwhelming–Maybe the overwhelming part is due to traveling with a small child–but even without children, international travel tends to be a relatively fast-paced confrontation with the unfamiliar. As a result I always experience, post-travel, a bit of down time–a few moments for the contemplation and processing of what I have seen.

We logged about 10,750 kilometers (about 6683 miles) on the road this summer. We flew to the USA, and drove from Germany to France to Spain and then to Ibiza. We utilized planes, cabs, our own car, a rental car, a ferry and we overnighted in 11 different places. Part of me feels out of breath and proud that we made it so far and saw so much. And part of me has started getting used to it. It takes some time to find a rhythm when you are on the road but once you find the beat of the trip you’re on, it feels like you could go on indefinitely.


When I zoom way out and look at the six or seven weeks we were away, what sticks out most is the fact that everywhere we went there were people. All over the world, at any given moment there are young people and old people. There are people who have babies and people who are babies. There are single people and married people, rich and poor people. People who like to be nude at the beach and people are covered from head to toe. There are people who have lost someone, people searching for something, successful people, smart people, dumb people, happy people and sad people. There are people who are afraid or brave. There are people who are outgoing and those who aren’t. At the end of the day, people are just people and on any given day each person is somewhere on life’s journey. We have this need to categorize people but that is because we forget that every day of our lives is different than the one before. Today we are the “young parents” but tomorrow we’ll be the “wrinkly retirees” in someone’s snapshot from their trip.


Ladies happy hour in Laguardia Spain

With a closer look I saw that in various ways, no matter where we are from, we are all trying to communicate and connect. You recognize it in the tiny moments. In the repair man at the house in the Outer Banks of North Carolina, in the lady we coincidentally saw on the ferry both ways. She could only speak Spanish, yet we recognized each other and were able to marvel together at the coincidence of meeting again. I saw it in the Italian couple we sat next to at the beach, who seemed to be struggling about whether they could leave their things unattended. After offering to watch their spot we ended up chatting and were delighted when we ran into each other again later that week. It was the couple who warned us about the jellyfish one day in particular. I saw it in the brothers who entertained me while they practiced their gymnastics on the ferry and then came to ask me (in English) if I would take their family’s photograph. These are the moments during travel that I always remember but they are the very moments that I never have pictures of. The delight that comes from connecting with strangers cannot be matched and it seems to be a human thing and not just a personality thing.

DSC04117.JPGAll of this becomes especially obvious when you have a little kid. People want to interact with little kids no matter where they come from. Put a one year old in the mix and you’ll get to see the most beautiful part of humanity. The part that smiles, the part whose eyes twinkle. And you’ll get to see the tiniest humans being the wisest. No matter what words she heard, Little Mouse understood what people were telling her. People spoke to her in French and Spanish and Catalan, in Korean and Japanese. It didn’t matter, a smile is a smile and it was stunning.

In Ibiza specifically there were so many different cultures represented that I hardly knew what country we were visiting. And surprisingly this actually made people more polite. People needed to communicate whether in line for the bathroom or at the bar, and because of the necessity, people just tried. And because you can’t tell by looking which language a person speaks, people seemed to reach out in the most polite way possible. I loved this.

It doesn’t always work. Sometimes you actually need to be able to speak the same language to get what you want. We had those situations too but those stories are for another post.

Our travels wrapped up with a most enlightening cab ride to the airport in Barcelona. Our cab driver was Pakistani, and to our great luck, he spoke wonderful English and loved to talk. We asked him where he was from and how long he had lived in Barcelona. “5 years,” he said. Then we asked whether he spoke Spanish. “Of course,” he said “and Catalan too.” He went on to say, “It’s a very human reality: if you are interested in something, then it’s easy to learn it.” Speaking Spanish and Catalan allow him to make a good living in Barcelona and he went on to tell us that aside from those two, his own language and English, he also speaks Romanian, French, and Italian. It’s worth it to him and therefore easy because it allows him to work anywhere. He said that as a foreigner it gives him tons of opportunity. Then he said something I will never forget:

Speaking other languages is homeopathic–If you learn it, it helps you, if you don’t use it, having learned it doesn’t hurt you.

We were inspired, and certainly have a lot of languages to learn in order to catch up with him.






Annafest: Take 3

The Annafest is Forchheim’s time to shine. Every July for 11 days, thousands of people flock to Forchheim’s Kellerwald to enjoy beer, Fränkisch cooking and live music under the trees. Suddenly the sleepy, cozy Kellerwald is the center of all the activity. During the Annafest many restaurants in the city actually close for a vacation because everyone is at the fest anyway. There is a Franconian saying and that is:

Annafest, alla dooch, Annafest.  

It means, Annafest, every day, Annafest. (The Frankisch word Dooch sounds more like dogh and means Day or in German –Tag.  If you say Tag (but say it more like tog) then really dull the t at the beginning to make it sound like a d, then really stretch the word out and dull the g at the end, maybe you can imagine how they got to dooch from Tag. Give it a try, you’ll at least crack yourself up.

Lots of people take the Annafest saying very seriously. Young and old alike stop by the fest for a little while each day. This year we made it 8 times-probably the most I’ve ever gone-not everyday, but not bad!

This is my 3rd year of “Annafesting” and I have to say this is the first year I’ve really felt like a local. When I first arrived in Germany in 2014, it was the day before the Annafest opened. Sounds great right? My introduction to living in a new country was a fest! But actually it was during my first Annafest that I realized I had actually moved away from everything familiar. Thorsten’s friends were warm and nice and I could understand that even in another language but being at the fest magnified the fact that I was a stranger. I saw Thorsten meeting up with his life long friends and realized that all my life long friends were thousands of miles away. I didn’t speak German yet and it was really crowded. So there were some lonely moments at my first Annafest. My second year at Annafest time I had a one month old baby. As a result I wasn’t ready to fest it up just yet. I did go a few times and even drank a Maß but my heart was at home with my little mouse.

This year, for the first time I have enjoyed the Annafest like it’s my very own fest. It’s familiar and I feel like I live here, like Forchheim is actually my town. It feels normal now to trek up the hill and enjoy a little nature and culture and socializing. I find it a happy occasion to celebrate the anniversary of my move to Germany each year.


The Annafest always opens on Friday with a celebration called Anstich (in Franconia Ogstochn, in Bavaria Ozapft. I’m not even going to try to disect those words.) Someone important, usually the Mayor, uses a hammer type of thing to open the first keg of beer and officially start the fest.

This year we went on Saturday afternoon to meet some friends and sat together at the Eichhorn Keller near the street to watch as the local bands, clubs, politicians, and beer queens paraded through the Kellerwald, stopping at each Keller for a beer and a song. Little Mouse snacked with us, tried to drink some of my Radler (beer mixed with sprite) and then after a little walk fell asleep in her stroller.


Speaking of Radler, this is something it took me a long time to like, but I have to admit that now I hardly ever order a regular beer at a fest. At fests you most often can only get a Maß (1 Liter) of beer. A Radler is a way to cut the amount of alcohol down and add a little sweetness. I admit I’ve become a bit of a beer lightweight.

That same evening I had a date with a some girlfriends for my first ladies night at Annafest. I was a little nervous because weekends are usually totally crowded and not that fun for a short person, but with my group of ladies and a good spot to drinks some drinks and watch the action, it was no problem and fun to boot! This was exciting for lots of reasons, but mainly because my German is good enough now that I can understand the others– even in a group and even when the music is really loud.


A few years ago I made fun of the 90’s cover bands. I could not understand why the Germans would get so excited about a cover band playing 90’s hits from America. This year was a little different but it wasn’t the music that was different, — they still played 90’s hits– it was me. This time I danced and sang along too. Additionally they played lots of German pop music that I didn’t know. I really enjoyed this however, because it’s nice to hear a group of people singing and dancing and getting excited over their own music. Whether it’s German or English the real truth is that no matter your age, once you are with a group of friends, it’s pretty tough not to have fun dancing and singing and drinking and carrying on in the woods on a Saturday night.

The next morning we went early to the Annafest for a lunch at the Schloessla Keller with a couple that also have a baby. This is a nice keller for day time visits, the music is always good and there is plenty of space. They play some country, classic rock and I don’t know how you classify John Denver but they played his hit, Country Road, as we were leaving. Everybody sang along, especially me, and I felt 1000 percent nostalgic for home even though I don’t come from West Virginia.


A few days later I went with some other mommies to Family Day. Food and tickets to the rides are discounted on family days. We spent a few hours walking around, looking at the children’s rides and eating bratwurst. Little Mouse is now a big fan of bratwurst (no surprise I guess) so it’s pretty easy to keep her happy in her stroller at the Annafest. It rained a little that day but not enough to dampen our spirits.



Later in the week Thorsten and I got to have a date night while Heinz and Jola watched Little Mouse. Another couple joined us and we found a seat over looking one of the main drag right next to the band we like, the Kuhboys (Cowboys). They put a creative, Johnny Cash like spin on a lot of American rock. It’s pretty great. We took our annual ride on the Ferris wheel, which I love. You can see the twinkling lights of the whole fest from the top and there is always a wonderful breeze. Later we walked to watch some other bands and dance and sing along in the street. This is something that would’ve been tough for me before because standing around in the street is usually crowded and I often get bumped and pushed and nearly stepped on. But for some reason this year was not as full as usual. We think it is likely because of the recent onslaught of not so nice terrorist activities. Whatever it was–for me, a little less crowded wasn’t so bad. What’s funny is that it seems like every cover band at the Annafest plays Journey’s Don’t Stop Believe’in sometime during the set but usually as their last song. Every night ends with it and no matter how often people go to the fest–Everybody loves it every time.



The last Friday of the Annafest we sat with some family friends in a great seat, overlooking the street at the Staeffala Keller. The music was nice and not too loud. We had a large wooden table and bench with a back, so Little Mouse could move herself around a little bit. She ate her fill of bread and bratwurst and even had some sauerkraut. Some of Thorsten’s old friends met us that evening. Little Mouse and I walked home early, leaving them behind to party it up like old times.

Saturday we had friend come from out of town and we all wore the traditional Bavarian clothes (Tracht.) Wearing traditional clothes is getting more and more popular every year. The traditional clothes for ladies (dirndl) create a very beautiful decote and the traditional clothes for men (lederhosen) are supposed to be very comfortable. What’s ironic to note is that these are not the traditional Franconian clothes at all– but it doesn’t matter. It’s fun and because the clothes are not the cheapest we are always looking for excuses to get more wear out of the them. Incidentally the traditional Franconian clothes for ladies usually have a high neck and a kind of funny hat-so it’s not that surprising that we haven’t seen a rise in the popularity of wearing them. Check out the photo below for an example.


courtesy of folkcostume.blogspot.com

Since we were all dressed up, we started our evening with a little sparkle. We stopped by the one hut that sells very good German Sekt (J.Oppmann) and prosted together. Little Mouse enjoyed a pretzel–The first time she has pointed to a food that she wanted –very Bavarian baby, I guess. Then we sat at the Schindler Keller for dinner directly across from the Reisenrad. Very pretty view.

Our last family visit to the Annafest 2016 was Sunday for an early dinner. Little Mouse seemed relatively tuckered out and I have to admit I was too. Still we found a seat at our favorite Keller (The Glockenkeller) and had the most traditional food possible (Schäuferla, i.e pork shoulder, cooked til it’s falling off the bone. Fränkisch cooking at its absolute best.) So far, Little mouse hasn’t taken a liking to Schäuferla or Klöße but based on her other very German tastes, I think it won’t be long. We found a seat just in time to miss a big rain shower. Luckily it didn’t last long.

The last day of the Annafest Little Mouse and I took a walk through to eat a Bratwurst and look around before the fest closed.

The point of all of this is to say, it takes some time for a place to feel like home. It takes time to cultivate friendships and really know your way around. It takes time to feel comfortable, to not be scared to enjoy the little things, to be spontaneous.

The third time is the charm, they say, and this year it certainly was.






Travel-Monaco, Corsica, St. Tropez, Nice

Last weekend marked the beginning of what I’m calling our summer of travel. We enjoyed the 1st anniversary of Little Mouse’s birth aboard a cruise around the the Cote d’Azur in the Mediterranean–specifically St. Tropez, Monaco, Corsica and Nice. This was a gift from the company Thorsten works for so we felt really lucky to get to be a part of it.

Later this summer we are driving to a wedding in the Bordeaux Region of France. After the wedding, we will head toward Barcelona and the Balearic Islands of Spain with a stop in Champagne for Champagne and in Rioja for Rioja. 

We have agreed that I will be in charge of speaking French in France and Thorsten will be in charge of speaking Spanish in Spain. Since outside of ballet I haven’t learned any French since college (and I’m not sure I actually learned any French in college) this will be a challenge.

So the details of the cruise…

Our journey began in Munich. Our ship was docked in Monaco, but we flew from Munich to Nice, France and took a bus to Monaco because Monaco is so small that it doesn’t have an airport. (Just imagine– all those gazillionaires have to keep their planes at the airport in Nice.)

The boat was the MS Europa 2. The cruise company is Hapag Lloyd. This is a German based cruise company but all of the staff I encountered spoke English and some didn’t even speak German (for example the sushi chef at the sushi cooking class I took!) I think Americans could travel just as happily as Germans on this cruise line. This was a luxurious ship. I was pretty skeptical about going on a cruise with Little Mouse but I had nothing to fear. If I had the money to afford a trip like this, I would say it is totally worth the price.


Knowing we were bringing Little Mouse, the cruise line sent out a letter ahead of time asking us what we might need. They offered everything, I mean everything–video baby monitor, baby food, formula, changing table, highchair, baby bed, baby bathtub etc. and all we had to do was check the box.  Knowing that it was her first birthday, they even had a birthday chocolate cream torte with fruit waiting for us when we arrived. They had wonderful drinks and dance parties with good cover bands and dj’s. No cheesy conga lines or deck games. The service was impeccable and friendly. Every cabin had a balcony and a bathtub! AND when you arrive every room has a bottle of champagne on ice. The ice is not melted, it has literally been timed with your arrival. And it’s not just something bubbly, it’s actual champagne from Champagne. They had a gym and even pilates classes. There are four high end restaurants aboard: French, Asian, Sushi and Italian cuisine in addition to two buffet style restaurants that feature food from around the world.

The boat itself is not that large in terms of cruise boats and so I was totally surprised that you could hardly feel the motor of the boat. There was zero chance that you could get sea sick. Each time we departed or returned to the ship there were drinks and snacks being served like a pop-up cocktail party. I cannot say enough good things.

Flying with baby:

Until they are two years old children fly practically free. They are considered lap children until that time and they do not have their own seat. This can prove tricky (depending on how wiggly they are) but not impossible to deal with. (Let’s address this issue again after our flight to the USA this summer…)

It’s about a 30 minute bus ride through stunning views and the windy hills between Nice and Monaco.

Bus rides with baby:

The roads between Nice and Monaco are tiny and curvy.  What I learned on this bus ride?… Babies can get motion sickness. We let little mouse drink a whole bunch of water and eat a liquidy fruit snack on the way -figuring that could help keep her hydrated and occupied-but then all of the sudden she threw up all over me. First the water, then the snack. Honestly it looked like I had had entered a wet t-shirt contest with dirty, fruit snack water. Wow, the amount of puke was impressive. 

Lessons learned:

Wear dark colors, bring a change of clothes for you and the baby, bring a barf bag, don’t let them drink and eat a bunch before a windy bus ride, sit in the front of the bus.


It’s hard to believe that Monaco is a whole country because it’s more like a small port city. It is nestled on the coast of France, not that far from Italy and it is well known for its Formula One race, for Monte Carlo’s upscale casino, and for Princess Grace.

The official language is French, but being that it is such a popular tourist destination, you can get by with English without a problem.  We had about 4 hours in Monaco before we boarded the ship. It’s a little bit hilly, but was really not a problem with the stroller.

We walked up to the castle, saw the changing of the gaurd, and enjoyed the view of the harbor. Then we walked through the shopping district and stopped for a drink at one of the cafes next to the Formula One track. We didn’t get to visit the Garden Exotic, because we didn’t have time, but next time that is a must-see.

We celebrated little Mouse’s first birthday at the Cafe de Paris Monte Carlo with champagne and olives.  Little Mouse had fancy Evian water to drink.




We cruised through the night from Monaco to Corsica (about a 200 km journey) As an east coaster I scoff a little bit at people calling the Mediterranean an ocean. The Atlantic is an ocean. It’s cold, it has waves, and it’s vast. Now that I’ve actually visited the Mediterranean, I realize that it is not a small body of water either. I still wouldn’t call it an ocean but it beautiful and calm and so so blue. Since Corsica is a part of France (Sardinia, it’s partner to the south is part of Italy) it was another chance to practice my French. We spent our day in Corsica on the beach at Capo di Feno. The cruise company provided us with a car seat and a taxi cab. Our driver was great. He got to practice his English with me and I asked him how to say important things in French, like “Where is the bathroom?” He also helped me to know how to order things at a restaurant or ask to be taken to the beach. We shared the cab with another couple who had a baby around Little Mouse’s age so that made for more fun. The people who didn’t have babies in tow were able to take small boats from the cruise boat to the beach, that must have been a gorgeous ride.


There was an open beach bar on this tiny stretch of sand that bordered some of the bluest water I have ever seen. Talk about lucky kids–this was Little Mouse’s first day at the beach in her life. Who gets to say their first beach experience was on Corsica?! In the afternoon we all got back together for a Corsican snack. But we gobbled it up to quickly to get a photo.

Around this time I started to feel like I was in a Hemingway or a Fitzgerald novel. The scenery was stunning- nostalgic and hopeful, energetic and relaxed at the same time.

Beach with a baby

An umbrella is a must have. Another good idea is a tiny blow up baby pool. They can play with the water or sit in it. Bring snacks and water. We had her dressed in a bikini bottom with a long sleeved swimming shirt on top.  With a hat on and a little sunscreen she could play with out being too hot or being in sunburn danger. It was also great having the car seat on the beach. She could sit in it when we fed her and when she was tired. I hadn’t thought of this before but a strap in chair for the beach is really useful for a toddler.

St. Tropez


That evening we cruised from Corsica to St. Tropez. St. Tropez was a perfectly charming sea side town. I loved the feeling of the place. We ate delicious ice cream and browsed through a flea market. Thorsten generally doesn’t like flea markets but he finally found something he liked when we happened upon a table of cured meat.

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There was wonderful art for sale, cafes and shops. Most, but not all, of the shops sell designer clothes at a designer prices, still the window shopping is fun and very pretty.



I can’t say enough about what a lovely city Nice was. I was amazed and surprised and pretty much in love. There was a soccer game between Northern Ireland and Poland that evening-part of the European Championship. The fans from both teams took to the streets early in the day to sing songs and get riled up. What was beautiful was that often fans from both teams were together, both so excited about the game that they were congratulating each other and practically pre-gaming together. This was in stark contrast to the sad reports we heard on the news in the next days about games in other cities. 

We walked through a wonderful park with great wooden play structures and water fountains for kids. A replica of the David stands in the middle, and one can never complain about the Michaelangelo’s talent for anatomical perfection.



Nice is filled with shops–fabric shops, home goods shops, clothing and shoe shops, spice shops and little cafes.  We passed lots of raw bars serving fresh seafood that looked delicious. Aside from the shops there is a huge flower market in the old town pedestrian zone (Marche aux Fleurs Cours Saleya). We arrived just as market time was wrapping up and like a perfectly choreographed movement, the moment when the flower market closes, all the cafes in the vicinity arrange their outdoor seating, so the pedestrian zone is pretty and wonderfully fragrant no matter when you arrive. We stopped to enjoy an iced coffee at a cafe appropriately named Le Cafe de Fleurs. We sat at one of the tables in the window and were able to pretty much walk through the window to sit down.  Little Mouse was able to continue napping in her stoller while we sat half inside, half out.


There were countless seaside restaurants with umbrellas and chairs for lying in the sun and waiters running around serving drinks. This was like a dream.


We sat for our lunch under an umbrella. I practiced ordering in French, and the wait staff seemed to get a kick out of it. That is when I realized I really need to get some French vocabulary under my belt. It doesn’t really help to know how to say, I would like to eat and then not be able to say what it is that you would like to eat– although pointing at the menu is also effective. 

Nevertheless, I cannot wait to visit the Mediterranean again. The Atlantic Ocean, with its austere color and its infinite strength, is like a parent to me. That ocean schooled me on getting pummeled by waves and that is where my affection for sandy toes and salty sea air developed, but the Mediterranean Sea, with it’s jaw dropping color, its soft waves and its rocky beaches, is like the fun Aunt I didn’t get to meet until I was 20.










The International Dendrology Society

A few Saturdays ago I was invited to tag along on a tree tour at the Botanical Garden in Erlangen.  The tour was organized by the International Dendrology Society and the garden director invited me to participate and asked if I might help him with some of the more difficult vocabulary. I was nervous so I studied up a little, reminding myself of the German names for all the trees.

Once the tour got underway I realized that I had forgotten the most useful rule of nomenclature in horticulture and that is: we will refer to all plants by their latin names and in this way we will avoid any confusion or miscommunication that could occur at an international meeting. (It’s important to note that this doesn’t always work because plant nerds love to argue about nomenclature but at least it helps!)


I did a little research on the The International Dendrology Society before the event and found that one needs to be nominated to join the society. The garden director was nice enough to send me the attendees list ahead of time. It was interesting to see that one or two of the members from England had “Lady” or “Sir” written before their names. Being that it was a tree tour, I didn’t think it would be a fancy event, but I still worried that maybe I would be under dressed in the company of royalty. Luckily all was in order.

The group was jolly and full of interest and even more questions.  They were quick to make corrections when necessary but they were on the whole so positive and thoroughly enjoyed the garden. I met more than a few very interesting people two of which knew one or two of my professors from graduate school. It is truly a small and often very enjoyable world.


It was a gorgeous morning, not too hot and full of sunshine. Botanical Gardens of all types really shine in weather like this.

Germans notoriously claim that their English is not very good. I am always glad to help but almost never need to help because their English is almost always better than they say it is. Still I felt honored to be included with this international bunch and was able to provide a bit of clarification when needed. Aside from that it was great to learn a little bit more about the botanical garden myself.

A little background: The botanical garden sits directly in the middle of Erlangen. It is nestled between the Castle park and the children’s theater. It is two hectares (approximately 5 acres) and it is a part of the University of Erlangen. It was opened in 1829 and depending on which part of the garden you are in plants are organized in different ways. One of the stand out aspects of this garden is the fact that while the garden is relatively small it has an enormous diversity of flora and species. Many climates are represented and every summer season they plant their entire cactus and tropical collection outside. It stands impressively near the entrance of the garden. Unfortunately I was so engrossed in admiring it that I forgot to take a picture.

They have a number of specialty plants including Hoodia gordonii. This plant has an interesting history and when the director introduced us to this plant, he also revealed one of the garden’s main purposes —to teach people about the many ways our lives our affected by plants, how plants are a part of our economy and part of our medical industry.

The botanical garden has two problem trees of note, one large oak and one large poplar. They are both in decline as a result of the construction of a building in the 80’s or 90’s. It’s taken a good amount of time for the stress to take its toll, but it’s showing now.  They are constantly trying to figure out how to mitigate the problems of the trees without allowing anyone to be injured. The director mentioned an idea close to my heart.  He said something to the effect of–We are considering allowing this tree to continuing standing in its current position after it dies. He said that he believes many people have never seen a dead tree. We are so quick to remove trees when they are in decline that it seems like people are hardly aware that trees are living things. In the same way many people have no idea that a tree can actually die.


I love this idea, as I believe gardens are like museums-places where you can see things you can’t see anywhere else.

After the tour we spoke a little about the possibility of offering English tours on a regular basis with yours truly at the helm. Fingers crossed I’ll find some way of working at this garden sooner rather than later.

It’s a great little garden. Visit if you can!




Back in a Botanical Garden

One topic I haven’t written much about is what it’s like to find a job/work in Germany. The reason for this omission is that I don’t have much experience in this area yet.

What’s been daunting and intimidating for me besides knowing that the interview will be conducted in German– is that my education has not equipped me to do one specific, straightforward thing. So far it’s been pretty hard to explain that I have a master’s degree in managing gardens. What does that mean? “Am I a gardener? Am I a plant grower?” they ask. My experience and education in ballet, arts administration and horticulture equip me to create programs and manage them or to manage people and create efficient organizational plans. I could teach something or do the hands on work of a gardener. I could do event planning for an institution or marketing or fundraising–all depending on the needs of the institution. But people look puzzled about all these other skills and interests when I start out by saying that my master’s degree is related to plants.

I never really see jobs advertised that ask for a person like this, especially in a garden. And further I find it difficult to say all this when someone asks me about my career. I have met event planners for example and they have an education that is specific to event planning. This tells the employer they are the right person for that job. I don’t have that. I’m more of a career cameleon I guess.

Nevertheless, a few months ago, excuses aside, I finally I contacted the local university botanic garden in Erlangen. I wrote an email in German, explaining my educational background and asked if I might volunteer or work as a gardener or a tour guide at the garden a few hours a week. A few days later, to my great delight, I got a very nice response, inviting me to a meeting at the garden. The email explained that there was likely no job but that they hoped I would be willing to meet anyway.

I was thrilled for the opportunity, job or not, so I replied right away and we agreed to a date the following week. The morning of our meeting there was a very strange spring snow. I took it as an auspicious sign and a pretty way to look at the garden. Lenten roses heavy with snow, and snowy pompoms on top of the witch hazels.


Luckily a friend volunteered to drive so that I didn’t have to figure out where to go/where to park etc. All I had to do was successfully navigate the conversation. She dropped me off at the door and we agreed to meet later for a coffee.

Within a few minutes I found the people I was meant to meet with: the director of the garden and the director the friend’s group. We conducted our entire meeting in German, with a few English clarifications when necessary. I basically explained my transition from ballet to horticulture and how I ended up in Germany. Then they explained that the botanical garden is a part of the university and as with many university run botanic gardens, it is understaffed and under funded. They didn’t have a job for me they said but they hoped that we could create a connection and maybe work together in the future. They told me that sometimes short-term positions (between six months and three years long) become available. They also said that they don’t have that many professional horticulturists in Germany and that Garden Management is really not a thing here. As I have heard before they said that it might be difficult to find the right fit, but that I should not give up.

After the meeting I was walking on sunshine. I wasn’t really any closer to a job than I was before a started but I had navigated the meeting speaking German and I had successfully created two new horticultural contacts.

A month or so later to my greater delight I received an email inviting me to a tree tour around the botanical garden with the visiting members of the International Dendrological Society. In the email the garden director asked if I might translate a few things when necessary. I felt honored really. And so I’m off! Back in the world of plants.


Adidas or Puma?

You may not have been aware but Franconia is home to two well-known sports brands: adidas and Puma. Recently I saw a movie about the two brothers that started these well-known companies. What a story: heartbreaking, and intriguing. One brother was the artist–passionate about creating the world’s most perfect shoe. (It was he who designed the shoe for Jessie Owens in the 1936 Olympics.) The other brother was the sales and business man. They started a sports shoe company together in the 1920’s. Through war and possible infidelity their company thrived but eventually broke apart creating two separate companies. In the process the entire town of Herzogenaurach was divided. To this day there are  loyalists to each company.

The name adidas comes from the name of the artist brother, Adolf. His nick name was “Adi.” His last name was Dassler. So there you have it Adi-das. The Puma company was founded by Rudolf Dassler, the other brother. He started with the name Ru-da, taking the first two letters from his first and last name, but it seems that wasn’t very interesting and somewhere along the line they came up with Puma.


I have never considered myself particularly sporty. I have lots of muscles from ballet, yes, but I have never been one of those girls who looks cute in sporty clothes or shoes. No, I just look like I’m going to the gym. Anyway lately I’m giving “the sporty mom” look a shot. Right now life includes so much strolling and walking and chasing around on cobblestone that heels just don’t seem feasible. Ballerina flats work well for lots of situations but sometimes you just need a cute sneaker.

So a few weeks ago we explored Herzogenaurach and I purchased my very first pair(s) of adidas- the shoes with the three stripes.


We were too late to go to the Puma store that day, so I can’t yet enter the debate about which shoes are better. But we did make it to a nearby Mexican restaurant for dinner-the first one I’ve been to in Germany that actually tasted kind of Mexican (but if I’m being honest, the two Margharita’s probably gave the food a wonderfully refreshing boost!) Ole!




On Saturday Little Mouse and I got up early and did our normal morning routine but when nap time came around I put the baby monitor next to Thorsten’s ear and snuck out to run some errands. Tag team parenting is something I thought I didn’t want to do. I thought I wanted to parent together, but it turns out tag team is often the best way to be a parent and be a person at the same time.

These days getting  to run errands by myself makes me feel free as a bird. It sounds so dumb but for an hour or so, I feel like I’m practically flying around town. Funny how our ideas of fun and freedom ebb and flow in the various phases of life. This feeling is partly because I am not afraid to go to the stores anymore. Part of it is because I actually know which stores to go to and now I enjoy interacting with strangers again. But the big part of it really is the silence and the speed which one can get around sans baby.

Anyway, on this day I was able to get to a few shops, the bakery and get home in time to make “American breakfast” (i.e. eggs and bacon) for us. It was a beautiful sunny day, I came home with the Mandevilla I mentioned in the last post and was able to plant it and then sit outside with Little Mouse for a few minutes enjoying the garden. On this morning, I felt like I was really winning at “mom-ing” and “wife-ing” and “person-ing”–I should give credit to Thorsten though who was also winning at “Dad-ing” making it possible for me to get these things accomplished at such a speed.


Later that day I’m sure some things went wrong, something was unorganized or I forgot one of the one million things we need to bring with us every time we leave the house and some how the day went from winn-ing to annoy-ing.

The same thing happened later in the week. I needed to take Little mouse to the doctor for a cold. (Conveniently our pediatrician is just down the street.) But unfortunately he was on vacation and that meant I had to take her to a pediatrician in another town. Most of the time Thorsten comes along to these types of appointments in case some details get lost in the translation. However, this time Little Mouse and I went on our own. And–drum role please–I found the place and navigated the whole appointment in German without any help. The doctor explained things clearly and even gave extra information. This was a win for sure and a huge milestone.

But later (as usual) some things didn’t go perfect. I didn’t have a dinner idea, things weren’t organized and then as Little Mouse got tired, she got pretty unpleasant and the winning day started to unravel.

The thing is, I’m used to working at jobs where you can learn as you go and get it right the next time until you are as close to perfect as possible. This works most especially with ballet but it worked well with gardening too. With parenting however, when next time comes it will probably look different, smell different and be a different size so if you are lucky enough recognize it you may not have the proper tools to fix it.

This phase of parenting reminds me of some jobs I’ve had. The jobs where your boss is demanding and unreasonable. In fact, aside from the reality that babies are adorable, they are a lot like these kind of bosses–they can’t communicate, they are demanding and they are fickle. From my view, anyone who has worked for this kind of boss, is probably poised for great success in parenthood. For those of you who still work for someone like this: take a short break and give yourself a pat on the back from me. At least I’m in love with my little terrorist dictator and she is cuddly and tiny.

The point is: I realized that the likelihood of getting it perfect is pretty low when almost all the rules of the game change every week. This kid is changing and growing so much that there is almost no possibility of keeping up. It’s next to impossible to master parenting because it’s different every single day. As a result the only thing I’ve gotten really good at is accepting that every day is different and realizing that I never know what I’m going to get when the alarm goes off. (Hopefully in my case, this aspect of parenting is preparing me for some fascinating job where this skill is a necessity.)

I have realized that the difference between feeling like I’m winning and feeling like I’m losing is pretty small. Each day has a lot in common and so there isn’t actually a ton of room for the day to head totally off course. I think the business of winning or losing, and the personal scoring system that goes with it is mostly in my head and most definitely needs an overhaul.

So when possible, you’ll find me basking in the moments of laughter and “living it up” while I periodically enjoy kid-free errand running. The real joy in that? I get a glimpse of my old self and relish the memories of feeling like I knew what was coming next and I thinking that had everything under control.

Happy Weekend Everybody!