Ein Prosit, Ein Prosit, Der Gemuetlichskeit

Okay, I know I know, you've all been waiting for an entry on the biggest beer fest in the world...das Oktoberfest!! So here's the scoop. The Oktoberfest was pretty much everything I expected: lots and lots and lots of Beer...lots and lots and lots of people....lots and lots and lots of drunk people (even before 10am)....lots and lots and lots of rides and games and food stands ala' the fair...lots and lots and lots of fun!!

Speaking of fun, here are some fun facts:

1) I went 5 times...only 3 of which involved beer and therefore can be considered true oktoberfest experiences

2) the oktoberfest beer is about two times as strong as the beer that the munich breweries put out on a normal basis...and remember they only serve it by the "mass", the famed liter-sized glass mugs...non kids' beer allowed!!

3)at the oktoberfest they also have shot stands outside of the beer tents, and in the restaurants, vendors walk around selling little bottles of hard liquor...just to help seal the deal, so to speak

4) I saw a total of 4 people get wheeled out on stretchers by the paramedics for drinking too much

5)last I heard 4 people died during these two weeks of madness from various causes, but all somehow related to alcohol

6)there is an official "Italian Weekend" at the Oktoberfest...and rightfully so considering how they were literally everywhere

7)speaking of italians, I met my future italian husband in the Paulaner tent and he proceeded to tell me about our future son "Alabama Bruno"...oh and just to let you know we will be living near Torino...so come visit...looks like I'm going to be an expat afterall guys!!

8)there is a veritable flea circus at Oktoberfest...my friend Birgit witnessed it, under deress I should add, firsthand

9)there is a wine tent (das Weinzelt)...I went once with Birgit, as we both prefer the vino...verdict= the wine was good, and the surroundings much calmer

10) the locals refer to it as der Wies'n ... bavarian for "field"...refering to the field that it takes place on, called Theresienwiese...named after the Theresa, the wife of some

king, for whom the original oktoberfest was held in honor of her birthday

11) Tuesday is the designated "family day" of the week

12)The "Trachten" is a general term refering to the traditional clothing of Austria and Germany, the "dirndl" is the traditional dress that german and austrian women wear to special occasions and oktoberfest and so on, and the "lederhosen", literally "leather pants", are what the men wear...every subregion, and perhaps town, of bavaria and austria has a different style of dirndl and lederhosen. Most of the modern dirndls that you see at Oktoberfest and elsewhere are as far from their traditional stylistic roots as possible...often much sluttier and cheaper.

If you want to see more: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2278173&id=5303189

All at Once

Why is it that we can go for days, weeks, months, maybe even whole years, without anything of note or particular excitement happening. And then without warning and without you even being aware of what exactly is happening around you, you are overloaded with things to do and problems to figure out. You're so overwhelmed that you can barely keep you head on straight, and every minute feels like you're struggling to keep your nose out of the water just enough that you can still breath. This is what the past two weeks have been, jam-packed with the very high highs and some considerable lows. So much so that about halfway through I checked out and my brain shut off. And I am only now starting to feel like myself again...FINAAAALLLYYY!!

The past two weeks have been a whirlwind. It all really started with the beginning of Oktoberfest on Saturday the 18th. All at once, from out of nowhere, the city was oozing with dirndls, lederhosen, foreigners from all across the world and sure enough drunkards of all kinds. On that very same day, my dad and sister arrived, and my friend Erin and I made the latenight trek out to the airport to "collect them". Of course this little endeavour did not go so smoothly, which was to become a common thread linking a good half of all my endeavours over the last couple weeks., something that Marisa came to deem "The Brittany Factor". This factor ensures that nothing goes to plan, though this is probably due to the fact that there rarely is a plan.

Anywho, from that rocky start on, the following two weeks entailed showing my dad and sis, and later my aunt Jo and uncle Bob, around, one of my very best friends Jo moving away (back home to england to finish her restoration studies) and all the accompanying and necessary get-togethers, a group of friends visiting from Venice, Oktoberfest outings, my first bike breaking, and my second, brand-new bike being stolen, things going awry with the people that I love, fighting a continuous battle with lice (contracted not from the kids but from the hostel I stayed in in Venice), and all of this on top of my new schedule of picking up the kids. Most of the time, it wasn't so much time itself that was the issue but more so the mental and emotional toll that it was all taking on me. It was alot to worry about and alot to wrap my head around. All I wanted to do was go back to when things were calm and normal. All I wanted to do was have some time to process and think.

And luckily I soon did. You will be happy to know that things are pretty much back to normal. That my head is not so full these days. I am a bit sick, just had another visitor - my friend Lara came up from Venice on Tuesday and left Thursday -, and am preparing for my fast-approaching Fulbright Orientation in Roma, but things are more or less stable... well as much as they ever can be in everyday life.

And you know, after having written this entry, I think I know why it is that things have to happen all at once. The reasons, at least in my mind, are 1) to test you and teach you just how much you can handle, 2) to make you appreciate normalcy, and 3) because shit truely does happen, that's a part of life.

"God give me the courage to change the things I can, the serenity to accept the things I can't, and the wisdom to know the difference."

Point of No Return

The "point of no return", according to my friend Colin, is the point after which one person could never see a call from the other on their phone and not understand immediately who it is that called them. I however am going to take some creative license and extrapolate a bit upon what Colin had said in reference to our mutual best friend Jo's leaving Munich. If I were to define the foresaid point, it would go something like this: the point at which two people, or two entities for that matter, have endured so much together, highs and lows, good and bad, tears and laughter, that their identities have somehow become intertwined and each has contributed so much to the other that they somehow are and forever will be a part of each other.

And this, my friends, is the point I am at with Munich. I have now been here for 8 months, and 10 days, and there's no going back. Munich, much like Southern California, Washington,DC, and Italy, will forever be a part of me, and I a part of Munich. Because even in that little amount of time, so much has happened. I have laughed, I have cried, I have loved, I have hurt, I have stumbled and I have gotten back up again, I have tried and I have failed, I have experienced, I have learned, I have grown...I have lived here. And after all that we've been through, there is no way I could ever forget Munich, and or the person she has helped become.

"Provare per Credere"

Literally translated as "to try for to believe". As you know this doesn't really make sense in english. So the way I would more correctly translate it is " try in order to believe" or "try so that you can believe (in it)."

This Italian expression came up in a conversation I had last night with Marco. Marco is a 26 year-old Italian from Calabria. He has been living here in Munich for a little over a year now, and had lived here one other time a few years back. We met for the first time last night, through a bit of leap of faith on my part.

Earlier this week a brief visit at the Italian Consualte - in order to find out where exactly I can sort out the whole visa issue for next year...turns out its Frankfurt, but that's a whole other story - got me craving one of my favorite indulgences, Italian Breakfast!!! Italian Breakfast is comprised simply of some form of caffe' (espresso, espresso macchiato, cappuccino, latte macchiato and so forth) and is often, though not always, accompanied by a cornetto or pastry of some sort. And for someone with my love of good espresso and good pastries, there is no better way to start the day. So I started walking in a general direction, and soon found myself in Lehel. Lehel is an area of the city, not far from the very center, that somehow maintains a peaceful, relaxed air about it. It's a pocket of tranquility in the midst of metropolitan chaos. As Lehel is not too large, my options for places serving true cappuccino and cornetto were limited to about two and a half. So I settled on what I believed to be the best, La Stanza.

I mean hey, even the name is italian...and so is the majority of the staff, as I was aware of from previous visits. Actually the truth is that Munich is overflowing with italians. Some people, though I'm not really sure who, have even deemed it "the northernmost city in Italy". Although, honestly, besides the sheer numbers of them, there's nothing very italian about it. Upon entering La Stanza I was greeted with a hearty "Buon giorno!!" from behind the bar. So that gave me a signal to keep it going and place my order in italian. Then while sitting there ("sat there" as my english friends would say) reading a book, it occured to me that here was my chance. My chance to put some thought to action. You see, ever since I came back from Venice, I realized that there was something very important missing from my life...italians...italian friends, italian language, italian cooking, italian conversation and underlying it all, italian passion. So the next time the friendly barista passed by, I caught his attention, told him who I was and asked him if perhaps he knew anyone who might be interested in an english/italian language exchange. He said he might, that he had a friend who was attending an english school in Munich, and if I wanted he could give him my number for me. And so it went. He called me later that day, and 3 days later we met up for a drink and a chat.

(Now I know that ALL of my family members and probably some of my friends are worried by this piece of information, that you are imagining all the worst possible scenarios that could have transpired last night. But don't worry. I know what I am doing. I am aware of the risks. But I choose to believe that whatever comes my way I can handle it, all will be okay in the end, and to have faith in myself and people. Plus, I have done things like this many times before, and though maybe not all of them have worked out, nothing has ever gone terribly wrong. And more often than not it has lead to the beginning of an amazing friendship. Besides is it really any different than meeting someone in a store or at a bar or on the street?)

Last night got off to a slow to start, as it almost always does when meeting someone new. We had to feel each other out first and get an idea of where we were coming from. But I made a concerted effort to not let any ideas of awkwardness or discomfort set in. To just go with the flow, be myself, and try to get to know Marco. And it didn't take long for us both to relax and for the conversation to get rolling. First we spoke in italian, then in english, then in a mixture of both languages. We found out each other's basic life stories and a few language lessons popped up along the way. Lessons such as "awkward", "weird", the "-ish" ending, and "to be in the know" or "up-to-date" in english, and "scocciato/a", "schizzato/a", "non ho una pallida idea di/a cui stai pensando", and the above mentioned italian saying, in italian. In the end, it was a successful language exchange, and we both established we'd like to make it a regular thing. However, as far as friendship is concerned, Marco and I are quite different people and could probably never be great friends. But that's ok, we don't have to be. For me it's enough to have a context in which I can practice my italian on a regular basis and perhaps even improve it. And who knows maybe this could be my "in" into the italian scene in munich. Vediamo!!

Either way, in my opinion, last night was a perfect example of the old "provare per credere". If you never try, you'll never know. This is Marco's view on realizing his dream of living for some time in NYC. And this is my motto, really, in life. The more I see, do and experience in life, in the world, the more firmly I believe in it. Half of my most treasured memories would have never been lived, and half of my most beloved friends and acquaintances never met otherwise. So I say "Why not?!". Go out there, follow your dreams, and just try so that you can believe!!

The Only Constant is Change

Everythin's a changin. The weather, the season, my friends, the kids' school and kindergarten my daily routine, my perspective, and the very nature of my experience here. It's all quickly becoming something different, and needlesstosay so am I...of course, those who know me well can vouch that I always do change.

The truth is I am person who is very sensitive to the world around me. I am adaptable, flexible, impressionable. Few things go unnoticed or unfelt. Either my thoughts, my mood or my emotions, or any combination thereof, perceive what is happening. However the initial perception is not the challenge, it's knowing what to do with it, how to process, accept and adapt to it. The reality is that everything in life is transient...people, places, time, possessions, opinions, "realities", current events, activities, periods in one's life and experiences. It all has a beginning and an end. They come and they go. Nothing is forever.

This year in Deutschland has reinforced this belief of mine time and time again. In just 7 months, a life-time's worth of change and experiences has transpired. I have made and lost - either due to them leaving or our relationship fizzling out - many a friend. My relationship with the children and the family, like my perspective on this experience, has changed continuously. My German comprehension and speaking capabilities are growing everyday. I got my Fulbright. I got my bike. I traveled quite a bit. I've met many a new person, yet I have at the same time been challenged to develop my being-on-my-own skills more than I've ever had to before. Things have been up and they have been down.

In the beginning, as it was winter, a cold and brutal one at that, my friends and I spent alot of time at each other's apartments or in bars, drinking beers, cooking, watching films, listening to music, dancing or just chillin. Then as winter loosened its death-like grip on Bavaria's biggest dorf, the outdoors became a big part of my life here. I, with or without friends, spent as much time as possible at the plethora of outdoor sites that the city has to offer - the lakes ("sees" auf deutsch), the Englischer Garten, the banks of the Isar (the river that runs through Munich), the grounds of its many palaces, primarily Nymphenburg and Blutenburg, the city's many grassy knolls a la Gaertner Platz, Koenigsplatz and the lawns Pinakotheken. I took to riding my bike as often as possible, made my first hiking excursion to the Alps, played frisby, soccer and "indiaca" with friends in the park, I spent afternoons lazing about in the sun, and grilled by the river with friends, among other things. The emergence of sunshine also brought with it the beginning of something very dear to all bavarians' hearts... biergarten season. And we foreigners welcomed it with open arms...and bellies :-) Basically life was pretty good!!

But then things, as they do, began to change. First Glen left...then Shane left two weeks later... then I left...for a three-week vacation at the North Sea. Shortly thereafter, my friend Erin left... for Mallorca, and upon her recent return moved with her au pair family outside of Munich. And soon, very soon, one of my best friends Jo will be leaving to go back home to England for the year. But as I have been in and out of Munich for the last month and a half these changes hadn't really sunk in yet.

Upon coming back from Venice, though, the difference was glaring and the changes seemed drastic. It wasn't just the group of people immediately surrounding me that had changed, it was the whole city. Not only was there a persistent chill in the air, signaling the advent of Fall, but the atmosphere in the city was notably different. There were fewer people out and about, fewer and fewer "radls" (bikes) on the road, the trees had a yellowish, brown tinge to them, and there was a solemn, somewhat melancolic air to the city. I could feel the life being drained from it...the energy was trickling out of the streets. The summer had indeed gone. And my life here had once again changed.

For better or for worse? Who knows...who can even say? I don't really think it's a matter of better or worse...it's just different. Things have yet to settle back down to normal here at Ernst-von-Romberg-Strasse 1. We are all still unwinding from vacation, still getting used to Irene's new school schedule and preparing for Martin's new kindergarten, and Oma (grandma) Lizzy is still here visiting. But we're almost there, almost back to the usual routine. As we move forward, each day more and more concrete information is coming in about my Fulbright grant and Master's program for next year. I already have quite a bit on my to-do list. It's all very exciting, but at the same time it bothers me how much it is distracting me from the present reality, from fully experiencing my life here in Munich. I don't want my mind to be in Italy until my physical body is too. But I'll do what I have to do, while at the same time trying my best to stay aware of the here and now. So, anyways, we'll see what the fall, and more so the next 4 months and 10 days bring. Whatever it is, I'm sure it will be up and down, in and out and full of change :-)

Birds of a Feather...

I do not know how it happens, but every time, without fail, it does indeed happen. Every time I leave Italy it feels like I am leaving a piece of my soul behind. It seems I am being torn away against my every will, from something, from a place that reaches deep down into the very depths of my heart and grabs hold of the core with an unrelenting grip. Italy and I, or rather "we", have over the past three years become intricately intertwined, like the roots of an ancient tree and the soil they've crept into, having wound their way further and deeper still, crossing and crissing, crissing and crossing, until finally they reached a point of indiscernibility. That's Italy and I, we are indiscernible and inseparable. She will always be a part of me and I of her.


Our most recent of rendezvous was a 6-day sojourn of mine in Venezia. I was invited by a good friend of mine, Lara Camozzo, to come down and visit her while she stayed with her Venetian relatives. As it turned out, partially due to fate and partially due to our own coordination, my break perfectly aligned with her stay there and all other travel offers fell through. So early on the 3rd of September, after a cappuccino, a croissant, and a dash of early-morning delirium with one of my best friends, Jo, I hitched a ride with two Croatian-German women "nach Italien". And 6 hours, many an Alp and rolling green hill later we arrived in Udine, a town in the very Northeast of Italy. After getting a bit lost, due to insufficient signage - something I regarded positively as meaning that we were indeed in Italy -, we managed to find our way to "la stazione centrale" and have a caffe' before I got on my train and they in their car and parted ways.


I was on my way to Venezia, "La Serenissima", that elusive city that hovers over Italy like its guardian angle, or perhaps the little devil on its shoulder. Who knows which? Either way, up until this past week, or perhaps even still, it had always maintained an air of mystery for me. Despite all the hype and all the reviews, and all the information that is floating around out there about Venezia, I approached this visit with as little expectation as possible, and perhaps even with a pinch of apprehension, fearing that it would somehow turn out to be some touristic mad-house a la Disneyland. I feared it would have nothing real or tangible to offer, that over the years its sense of history and culture had been lost to the hordes of tourists that swarm and trample its streets. I feared the worse, and in the end had the most surreally blissful of experiences.


After 6 days of roaming her maze-like streets and canals, breathing in her cornucopia of smells, hearing her symphony of noises, tasting her seas, experiencing all the best her vines have to offer, and completely losing myself in her rhythms, I came to conclusion that there isn't a place in this world - at least that I've ever been to - that compares to the pure enchantment that is Venezia. A huge part of this enchantment is her complexity. There is nothing simple or easy about Venice, not the history, nor the streets, nor the buildings, nor the language/dialect, nor the cuisine...really nothing at all. From the minute you step off the train and into her little alleyways, you know complexity is equivalent with normality. I was there for 6 days and I barely scratched the surface. It is a place that would require years, even decades, of living there before you could begin to understand it. Quite an amazing feat when you consider its comparatively small size. But this complexity, this air of mystery, this elusiveness is essential to the city's character, its very being. Without it Venezia would be just another place, nothing special, nothing worth seeing. Luckily, though, the reality is quite the contrary. As Lara's good friend Aurelia said one night while getting a drink with us at L'Erberia, "Venice is hard to leave."

And hard to leave it indeed was. The 6 days I spent there, being guided around literally almost all of her streets by Lara, and living the life of a Venetian with her, her family and especially her cousin Giulio and his friends, seemed like an eternity. It was an eternity of pure contentedness, the kind that erases all sense of time and reality from your mind. Somehow Italy had done it to me again. The minute I crossed her border, she began to wrap her roots around me, seep into my blood and heart and deeper still into my soul. I was back! I was home again. J And I jumped head first into it. It was a week of living la vita italiana again. And even though it was for the briefest of moments, those 6 days reminded me of just how much Italy and I belong together, of how well we fit, and of why it is that I am so in love with it. And better yet it got me REALLY excited for next year!!

Follow these links to see more pics:
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http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=36927804&id=21305513#/album.php?aid=2198600&id=21305513&page=9

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