Day Six/Seven - Of Ducklings and Ice Tea

I slept in the hammock that night, and let me tell you, that thing was comfortable as all get out, or rather get in. I do not apologize for that pun. We ate breakfast quickly, and hopped onto the next train leaving for Seefeld, where the parents were staying.
Running for the station that morning was exhilarating, learning to use the ticket machines and stepping onto the car. And the ride quickly turned into a game of Pokemon Snap, only foreign, and slightly more realistic. I've never even played that game, what am I talking about. You'll get pictures. Anyways, each time we exited a tunnel, I'd have the camera at the ready, catching that brief period before we entered the mountain once more. Waterfalls clambered of the cliff and swept under us, gushing into valleys below, and the far-off snowy peaks glinted in the rising sun. Just got a bit poetic there.
We met up with the parents, grabbed some truly German sausage and cheese, and headed up into the hills with 6 of us packed into the Prius; my sister laying across our laps in the back seat, with our arms disguising her. We stopped at a rest point, got lost, and then hiked briefly up to a stunning lake.
We still had some cheese, and my sister hadn't brought shoes, so she started throwing pieces in for the fish, and then stepped down into the water. I was not far behind, and eventually this young duck paddled over to us. She looked inquisitive, but upon seeing the food she dove into the now-swarming droves of fish, vying for the chunks. Then she called more over, and it seemed that the expanse of water had been awakened, with fowl and fish swimming to eat. I bent down near the water, pant legs rolled up, and with two fingers offered a piece of cheese to a teenage duckling. Curious, but wary, he serpentined near to my hand, and snatched the treat from it. My sister did the same, and we were very excited, let me tell you. Then we went up on the dock, and chilled, before going in to this log-cabin style eatery, where we had all you can eat soup and I got very mixed-up about the bathrooms.
After the lake, we returned, and laid on the bed of the parents home until the return trip, with the camera out again and my brother pointing at the best shots and laughing.
We went shopping for a few items. Shopping in Europe is only slightly weird, as you enter through a gate, and may not leave until you've picked out your items and bought them. They also have very long conveyor belts, as if people regularly order anacondas with their mozzarella and breadsticks.
With all the ingredients for pizza, we fashioned up a few, my sister and I chopping, my brother directing, crafting, and drinking ice tea with the rest of us. we invited over M again, who, upon being asked if he'd drank, replied that he was not "Austrian drunk yet". We hooked up the TV, and then went for some old-school video gaming with SSBM. M immediately challenged us to a team match, throwing 10 euros on the table. We whupped his sorry butt, I'm pleased to say, and were disappointed that we'd denied his bet. We slept when it got late enough.
Four in the morning, a phone goes off. We'd set alarms for 7, hoping to get 6 hours of sleep and then head to the parents at 9, a ridiculous time. The phone goes off again, and my sister clambers over me (I was on the top bunk now), and she nearly falls of the bed, turning off the phone. The phone goes off again, and they manually deactivate it. Again. My brother rips the case off and removes the battery. So truly, we slept so well.

The next day we popped out of bed, and went for the train again, and got their, at 9, as per the request of the parents. Then we discovered that they were not in fact ready, a truly fascinating occurrence. My brother returned to his flat, and would be joining us later in Breda (which I'm still too excited about) but we hopped into the car, and then drove the next 10 hours (the GPS said 7 left the first hour, and the second, and the third) straight back up to Steyerberg. We passed the time with the normal shenanigans, plus the Great Gatsby in audiobook form, as my sister hadn't read it. Not much else to say for that day, really. We stopped a few times, I learned that they charge you to use bathrooms along the roads, with turnstiles and everything. I got a scone. We arrived at base at evening:00, and I caught up a little bit with the blog. There'd been no internet at the Pension, and my brothers flat didn't have an open charger, so I'm still catching up (had an awesome last two days, you'll hear all about it soon enough). We got ready for the next day, where we'd join up with D and S and ride up to Holland for the Summer Music Festival.

Day Five - Austria, Aww Yeah.

Waking up at the Pension spurred a flurry of activity, with clothes sailing into bags, cups juggled and scrubbed, and the rolls bought down at the local store slathered and sandwiched.

We went into town, and I lounged about while my sis got more information about applying to a special program at the university.
Then came the drive. Another 6 or so hours - I'm not really sure - but I was pretty excited to be seeing the world for the first time, so time seemed to fly by like the white-capped gold mountain peaks, thronged with trees and shrubbery of all sorts.
Suddenly, we were in Innsbrook, Austria. And it was pretty sweet. The golden Prius pulled up in front of a large mustard apartment building, and we stepped out of the car to straighten ourselves and shake off that post-travel haze, before my German brother stepped out the door and my sister ran to him for a huge hug. I joined them, and then he led us up, and we saw his modest, but modern apartment, complete with one bathroom, living room, kitchen, and two roommates, who we met briefly before exiting the building again.
After a comparison test of my brothers new and old skateboards, we walked through the town, to meet with a local friend of my brothers, named M, who led us to a very fine Italian place for dinner. There was a lasagna that singed my tongue, and I smacked the top of my mouth on the walk back, but I'm not sure why I told you that.
Leaving the restaurant, we returned to the apartment and saw off my german mother, father, and my sisters grandfather, while meeting M's sister, and an ex of my brother, L.
We then decided to go out on the town, and my brother has this uncanny way of collecting people on his excursions. First was the cafe, where we ordered pumpkin oil icecream, and then continued a debate my brother had started before we arrived as to the nature of the green topping sprinkled on the frozen dessert. He believed it was nori seaweed, and my smell and taste agreed. However, he had a biologist friend, and her friend, E, who were utterly sure it was mountain weed. Eventually the waitress confirmed that it was an herb mix, and unfortunately for us, land-based.
We headed out to check out a swig club, but they'd finished a little bit ago.
We then walked to a nearby pub, the walls slathered in vinyl covers from the past century, and most of the group ordered drinks. There was also supposed to be live music, but the band had just finished. My brother, of course, had decided that night so far was a failure. I tended to disagree, because hanging out with my sis and him was anything but mundane. Two more men joined us, and one started hitting on my sister, but she passed if off rather well, if I do says so myself.
We left, and I chatted with L and E for a bit. We hit up an ATM, and were going to try and get in to these two establishments, Mustache, a lounge and bar, and Aftershave, a dance club. however, they were carding people upon entrance, and although I may look over 18, or even 22 by the last estimate, my card number has risen no higher, with a big 17 to turn me away. So we hung out, just M and E and my bro and sis and me, at Mustache. Oh, and because you needed to know, there was a distinct lack of mustaches at the venue.
I don't understand Austria.
We returned to the apartment, leaving E, drunk and tired, at her place. Then it was music and talk with good people until late, and I headed off to bed.

Day Three/Four - Freeberg!

Waking up at 6 is fun. 

Especially after going to bed at 1, as your sister has decided that she must painstakingly extract a tiny splinter from her foot before she can lay her head down. 

Needless to say, my bed was particularly cozy that morning. But I launched out of it anyway upon the waking of my German mom, and got ready for the 6 hour car ride that was soon to follow.
And then the 6 hour car ride followed. 5 of us crammed into a dinky Prius towards our first stop: Heidelberg.
Just got out of my sentence, and now I'm in transport. Good stuff. Thankfully my sister and I passed the time with an odd collection of tunes, mixed by yours truly, and a pillow, which we traded off using placed on the other for sleeping purposes. This worked like a charm, leaving me stumbling out of the car at one particular rest stop while the rest of my car mates took bathroom breaks, aside from my sister, who had taken the opportunity to stretch out lackadaisically across our empty seats and demand chocolate from my German father. Then my German mother passed me two two Euro coins (four Euros in total), and told me to get a German pretzel for both my sister and myself. This prompted my first (and so far only) purely German exchange, which consisted of four words and some mild confusion.
"Zwei Laugenbretzel, Bitte"(woo, learning stuff!)
"Hmm?"
*holding up two fingers* "Laugenbretzel...?"
...
"Ah, ja"
I got two cents as change. I'm basically full German by this point.

We arrived in Heidelberg after a brief continuation of the sleeping/driving/musicing (I am so copyrighting that), and the city was pretty incredible. It was a tad touristy, but there were many Germans, and shops, and we found a Falafel place at the request of my sister, with delicious platters and (according to my sister) an adorable Greek chef at the counter.

We continued by walking out on the bridge over the something-or-other river (Neckar), where we looked over the water and spoke whimsically about odd Indian men while the parents snapped our photos. Then we returned for some (actually logical) ice cream, and walked about a little before returning to our car, herding in like cattle, and taking off for the next three hours heading into Freiberg ('cause it's free and all).
Passing through the city on our way to the "Pension" (pronounced Pan-see-ohn), there wasn't much to see until we skirted Au (pronounced Oh, I guess?), and saw the stark green of the rolling hills near the Black Forest.
So it turns out the grass is actually greener. Weird.
Anyways, it was an adorable house, with farmer landlords and running spring water, but after that car ride I would have been content with a Hoovertown shack. We then drove down to the city to get dinner at this co-op restaurant, meeting up with a friend of my German mother's and then I had the most gourmet mac and cheese ever. Like for serious. Went back after, read a bit, went to bed.

Next day I got up late, tried Nutella on German rolls, and headed out for Freiberg with a spring in my misstep and a smirk on my face. We ended up in this super old-style city, where the buildings each had their own century and story to go with them. In the midst of this history, there was this little homegrown farmers market, with wooden stalls and buckets full of olives and carrots and white asparagus (apparently it's really good, but I have not selected this delectable treat as of yet). We got olives and herb cheese in oil.

So we browsed for a bit, and the German grandfather attending our trip regaled me with some interesting WWII/Nazi/Hitler fun facts. The germans, as it seems, view him pretty similarly to what we see, only with the addition of they consider him an actual person. How strange.

My sister also wanted to check out this university, but didn't have an appointment. However, when we entered, they were setting up for a presentation so there were plenty of staff willing to answer her questions. Then, in the midst of discussing this tiny german/international Liberal-Arts program, they ask us to come out into the hall, because there's a television camera crew filming the place, and they want some people there. So, if any of you watch German TV, be on the lookout for my cameo appearance.

We ate at the same restaurant as the night before, after stopping off at the Pension and knitting/ reading aloud under blankets. Tehn we were off to bed, and another day awaited us.

Day Two - Spaghetti Ice Cream, Man

I've been out of internet the past couple of days

So I apologize for the delay, but here goes.

The next day consisted mainly of lazing around, with us eating a large breakfast and lunch, watching a tv show, and listening to some excellent music. Then we went on a walk, barefoot on a path leading us through the grasses and into the forst beyond. We returned to find an incredible number of deer ticks on us, which we promptly removed. Well, promptly meaning my sister had a minor freak out before extracting each one and looking all over. She later discovered two more on her stomach during a nap.
 

Upon returning from the walk, we resumed with doing the most excellent nothing. Following this, who should arrive but my sisters good friends, D, a medium-length blonde haired wiry tall man, and S, a long dirty blonde haired sturdy average height woman. We made fajitas, an excellent imitation considering the limited German/ Mexican food resources. Following this, and upon all of our insistence,  the car was filled, and we drove to the local Eis shop, or ice cream store. Only really, it was more like a cafe, stuffed with tables and menu layered with various foreign titles, which my limited (none) German could not distinguish. However, there were no cones here, nor meager bowls. No, apparently the Germans know how to eat their "eis" the right way: each filling a dinner plate a half foot high with a mix of chilled flavors. What I ordered, after much deliberation and translation by my German mom, was a plate filled with what looked like a spaghetti dish drizzled with a translucent green sauce. This was supposedly ice cream. I didn't think so. However, as was explained to my utterly disbelieving face, these guys apparently press their frozen delights through a pasta press so as to both crush the soul out of them and alter their appearance to be completely indistinguishable from a carb-loaded noodle dish. 

Despite all of this, this creation defied all imagination and managed to be delectable as all get out.

Anyways, we returned to the grotto, and were shortly joined by two other friends of my sister, T and Sa (so as to differ from S). I'd heard a lot about T from Miss College Chick, so I'd arranged a special greeting for him. I joined them in the living room, shook Sa's hand and T's, then told him I had a greeting from my aforementioned College-attending sibling, and promptly bent to hug his knees. His confused expression was met with my laugh, and his following query was answered with "because she's short". We then all shared a laugh at her expense. Sorry, CC :P

We had much to do in the morning, but I was still on CA time, so we played a ferocious game of "Viking War" (as Gsis says T caled it when he taught us), wherein T and mah Gsis duked it out in a pretty epic battle before she finally slaughtered him and me around midnight. They left, and I was alone to go to bed for the first time. Sleep was nice.

Day One - Toilets and Windmills

Somehow I managed to consistently stay one day behind on this.

Let's start with a brief description of the drive. Everything in Germany is green right now. Like, my god, they have trees not just on the sidelines, but even in the divider between north and south-facing roads. It' all fields and crops and bushes and I don't even know. My male overseer would be having a field day with this landscape. I chatted with my German sis for a while, and then we entered the rustic red houses of the city. It was like I hadn't just lost a day in my traveling, but instead a couple of centuries. Dark bricks layered the walls and roads of every house, the roofs were shingled and heavily slanted, the river was directed this way and that under a sharp bridge, and everywhere there were signs in the gobbledygook of their language.

We passed by the Weser River (pronounced "veysah"), at which point my German mother informed us that this had been the waterway used in the Pied Piped fairytale, where the rats of the small village were lured to their deaths by the music of a mysterious man's flute. The village is also a real place, apparently, but I most likely won't get to visit it.

We arrived at their house after a short while, and it didn't look like much from the outside. However, stepping in the door was an entirely different experience. It was modern, elegant, and very compact. It would like to focus on a few points in particular. 

First and foremost, the toilet. Now, I'm sure you're familiar with the way American toilets work. There is a pool of water at the base of a porcelain bowl, and a handle to flush on the side, which produced a satisfying gush of water upon pressure. But then Germany was all like "naw man, we gonna make two pools, one for flushing and one to just sit there and look at our impressive German deuces. And we're not going to bother with a handle. Oh no. We'll put a plastic tablet into the wall, and you push inward like a secret-magic-portal or something, and a entire waterfall is going to jet out of your toilet and blast your unfortunate droppings into another dimension. Then you have to press the other side to get this torrent to halt, lest you're swept away with it. That's gonna be what we'll do". 

Germans, man. I may never know.

Then locks are on every door, expect they're more like keyholes from both sides, and you can insert a key into either side to lock them. That's actually pretty brilliant right there, as it allows them to switch all the keys in the guest room to the outside, and trap me in like a snoozing baboon in the morning.

Also, all the glass doors can tilt inwards when closed, allowing airflow as if they're windows. They look broken, and it weirds me out, but that's actually pretty sweet.

And through these glass doors you can see the sweeping chartreuse fields of grass and whatnot, with a bucketload of windmills on the edges of everywhere you look. Apparently the power from this makes up over 10% of their energy produced, which is awesome. They also look pretty futuristic, which is an added bonus, and very weird in contrast to the old-town vibes of the village.

I hugged my German father, and we went in to make eggplant-sandwiches, a speciality of my G-sis, which were utterly delicious, in case you were wondering. We hung out, and talked until my sis fell asleep, and then I fell asleep on their couch.

Day Two - Doin tha Cookin'

Me and my German Sis cooking...

Eggplant sandwiches with tomato, basil and spread. My taste buds can't even process this delicious.

Day One - Learning to Fly

I didn’t manage to access the Internet during my flight or transfer (they can’t send you a code for 60 minutes of free wifi if you don’t have a phone), but a brief summary of my trip so far.

I boarded the plane quickly after the previous post, placed in 26A, a window seat, as I’d planned/hoped, really. I watched Pulp Fiction for the first time (and I recommend it highly to anyone who wants brilliantly acted lines and, of course, random violence), and then slept (if you can call that monstrosity sleep) for the next 3-5 hours. I was served both a four course dinner and breakfast, which made me slightly embarrassed for having brought a burrito with me. I’m eating it as I write at the Zurich airport. (stomach pains, here we come!)

My accompanying seatmate’s (as there were only two seat in the row, but of average commercial/economy size) name began with an F (as far as I can recall), and as it turned out, he lived in Zurich, and was returning to Switzerland after visiting California for only 2 months (an odd mirror of my current situation), picking up English along the way. As I later discovered, he played professional soccer (he said “football”, then looked at me with a moments pause and continued “you call it soccer, I believe”) for seven years before four knee surgeries put him out of duty. He played one instrument in school, his explanation of which spurred the following exchange.

“It’s like, a long pipe with holes”, he says with rich Swiss accent, putting his hands up before his mouth and wiggling his fingers. “You blow into it”. He pantomimes an excellent Native American pipe, but I pause, thinking it strange that it would exist in Swiss schools.

“Wait, wait. Is there a hole,” I say, hands raising to my lips and my pinkie wiggling, “down here, that has two holes in it?”

“Ah, yes” he says, smiling. I laugh a little.

“We call it a ‘recorder’. I learned it in elementary school too!”

It’s weird, the traditions that stick.

I arrived in Zurich without much fuss, and wrote the first part of this during my hour-long waiting period, before going through the automated check-in for boarding (why, why don't we have this), where you just wave your boarding pass over a reader and walk on the plane.

I was placed in 33A, another window seat, and my seat-mate's name also began with an F, conveniently enough. As it turned out, this was another traveler returning home, from visiting her sister in Zurich. She was very, very German, and quite pleased to explain to me what jazz dance (her chosen activity of the past nine years) entailed, despite my explanation that I'd tried it a bit myself in my own dancing career. I was a bit confused when I asked her about other hobbies, and she said (and I quote): 

"I have a Haus!"

This is what it sounded like to me, anyways, and the next couple of minutes were spent asking what one did at a Haus, and what was fun about them, as she told me how was a lot of work tending to them.  My quisquos, and mildly bewildered response left her with a similar expression. As it would seem, the Germans do not really pronounce their R's, and I had basically just queried as to what one does inside a beast of the equine variety, or "Horse".

Life is fun sometimes.

Anyways, we landed and went to check out baggage, me walking down the stairs, chatting with my seat-mate, when I saw my German Sis and German Mother on the other side of a pane of glass, waving and laughing. As my sister later jokingly explained, they had bet that I would arrive with a girl, so my entrance with a blonde, pale, altogether extremely German female had my sister smirking and waggling her eyebrows. I immediately ran up to the glass and reenacted one of those scenes where the protagonist and his family would be hugging, except for the transparent wall. Then I grabbed my bags, received my first German "Bretzel" from my German mom, and drove to their house without delay.

This next piece will require a whole other post.

Day One - Airport

I've escaped!

I dont' think they know where I've gone.

Just chilling at the airport, already through security and sitting in front of my plane. It's overbooked, so they were offering $800 to anyone who was flexible enough to stay the night at a hotel and travel the next day. But my plans cannot wait. (More truthfully, I fear the wrath of my German Sis were I to delay my arrival).

My wardens did not appear to notice when I stuck out my tongue at them. Such a shame.

There's been a slight delay in setting up the plane, but we should be off the ground soon, on our way over the top of the world, and down into the dark heart of the motherland (that's Europe, fyi). It's all coming very quickly, but I believe my imprisonment has prepared me sufficiently for this journey.

Departing in half an hour.

Prologue? Day One?

Today is the day.

Now we shall execute the escape plan.

I guess the wardens have taking a small liking to me, as they both wish to attend my escape through the air. I shall, of course, stick out my tongue through the window in a show of good faith, as I would expect all my cellmates to do. They may or may not shake their fists in fury as I flee their clutches.
One can always hope.

I find myself growing less nervous, and more excited as the time approaches.

Freedom tastes sweet on the tip of my tongue.

Suki, my feline counterpart, has spent the day following me around, in an obvious state of distress. Not really. She actually looks entirely unperturbed. *Sniff*. It hurts a little. She has, however, managed to cloak my luggage with wads of cat hair, both a lasting reminder of her absence and an excellent deterrent from any feline fearing thievery.

I shall wait until 3, when we depart, and then my journey begins.
I may return.
I may not.
But either way I shall be a changed man.

Prologue - Benjamins

It's all about the Benjamins...

And the passport. That too.

As I very eloquently expressed to my friend today, and I quote:

"It just hit me."

"Holy monkey balls."

Prologue - Laundry

I did the laundry. And all that.

The past three days have really flown by (bad pun, I'm sorry), and it's all wrapping up. 24 hours to liftoff. The laundry is finished, brought up, folded, put away, taken out, unfolded, rolled up, stuffed unceremoniously into my purple suitcase and smothered in the multitude of requested items I'm bringing with me on my atmospheric descent. Well, hopefully without a premature decent. The female overseer has taken me briefly from my solitude for an odd activity she calls "shoe shopping". My footwear is just fine thanks. A couple holes and ripped-off soles never hurt anyone.

500 dollars is now sitting on my desk top (+11 preliminary euros, which the warden has just left in my possession), and I feel oddly overburdened by it. I mean, who in their right mind would take one hundred bucks and shove it into a tiny little slip of rice-paper? Those dinky little cloth strips are bound to get lost, and with one - bam - one ninth of my meager funds is gone (other 400 are accessible through my card) (I really should stop talking, before one of you gets a clever idea).

While we're here, I may as well run you down the preregistered lists of things-to-do and all that nonsense. These were explained to me two nights ago by a very excited (and sick :( ) German Sis, who, being 9 hours ahead time-wise, decided that it would be neat to keep me up until 3am discussing each member of our altering caravan of escapees.

(I have four sisters and a brother, whose pseudonyms are placed with mine in order of age, ascending:
Little One (10),
NYC Girl (15),
Noah (me) (17),
German Sis (17),
College Chick (18),
and German Bro (20))

First and foremost, the time allotted will be 35 days exactly. My escape plan is to be executed at 7:30pm tomorrow, I shall arrive in the designated locale on the 21st of June, and my grudging return shall occur on the 26th of July. There may or may not be time for potty breaks. (I may have to start calling it the loo, if we hop over to the UK).
My sister has decreed, in full royal manner, that:

I shall have two days of rest upon my arrival.
Following this brief intermission, we shall hop in a car and zip down to visit Heidelberg, Freiberg, and Innsbruck, where we will meet a brief leisure period and rendezvous with my German Bro.
We will return to Steyerburg, and then we'll be driving down to Antwerp for a music festival (big props to Miss Germane for the tickets).
Then, the stake out of the mission target. Breda University. So want to see that. Also meeting up with my German Bro.
Heding off to Maastricht, then Amsterdam for two days, and hightailing back to their place, just in time for the insanity of celebrating my European Brethren's 21st trip around our star. Past that, life will be the chillest, and of that I am assured.

Big day tomorrow.
Feeling like I'm trapped in a suit of armor charging into battle. Hope I don't get shanked.

Prologue - Cellmates and Drinking

So just prior to her trip to New York,

My cellmate has informed me that she does not think I should get drunk on this trip. This is odd, seeing as I have never participated in such scandalous activity, despite the weary toils of my sentence. Therefore, when she queried as to my plans on the matter, I kindly informed her that

1. The legal drinking age in Europe is 16
2. I do not plan on drinking anyway, and
3. When she responded that my plan was solid, and that she didn't want me coming home smashed, I added that I would have plenty of time to sober up on the 12-hour plane flight home.

I'm still not entirely sure if she understood my sarcasm.

Prologue - Three Days to Go

Well, it's come to this.

Please excuse me flipping out like a proverbial gymnast.

Got my passport and credit card today (for travel, the wardens would never let me at the real thing), and it's officially time to run up the walls until the world tips to right me.

First, a little bit of background, I guess.

I'm 17, Caucasian, male, and whatever else you're supposed to fill in on those application forms.

The name's Noah.

So I just finished Junior year of high school, and the sudden snapping of my final chains is a bit like a breath of fresh aerosol; it's been sickeningly sweet, events day after day, and it's frankly a relief to have been grounded for the last week before the captain tells us to fasten our seat belts. Now I have an excuse to dig myself a lodging in my room and hole up until takeoff. 

However, I've been busying myself with the wonders of the internet for too long, and it's time to actually start that whole process of acceptance that my body is about to be scanned to the infinitesimal detail, loaded with clothes for every occasion, and stuffed into a metal can with a variety of other sardines, to be shot into the stratosphere and (fingers crossed) plummet halfway across the world, where I'll be repackaged right around Zurich, Switzerland, and slingshotted to Hanover. 

Or so my female overseer has informed me. Today. 

Literally 73 hours before those little blinky lights illuminate the liftoff strip. Make that 72.

I should probably do laundry. Wish me luck.