That Time I Went to Europe in 2019
Yesterday, the Joneses and I – along with their offspring and our respective and collective litter of dogs – drove back from Missouri on a Sunday of increasingly glorious and temperate weather. The further we drove south, Justin felt compelled to notify the occupants of the minivan what the temps were every 25-30 miles, because ever since he hit his 40’s, he’s gone Full Throttle Dad Mode. Although we left MO in the mid-30’sF, by the time we crossed the Red River we were squarely in the high 70’s, and my Target faux-Uggs (aka Fuggs) were a dead weight that felt as if I were shod in some kind of road-paving material.
At any rate, I’m finally home after an ass-grinding two weeks of being on the road: first, a trip for work, and second, my parents’ for Thanksgiving. I wanted to weep when I flopped into my bed last night.
Even though I was there for work, Europe was…Europe. Awesome, of course. I did most of my sight-seeing from the plane, to be honest; the rest of the time I was either in a hotel room, a cab or an office. No complaints. It’s not every day I get a couple of stamps in my passport without paying for it. Things I learned as an Innocent Abroad:
1. I need to learn German. Any language that contains the words “flughafen” and “ausfahrt” is a language after my own 6th grade boyish heart.
2. German cab drivers get irritated when the fare is under €10 and you don’t have cash. In additional news, just because they “take credit cards” doesn’t mean that they take the credit card one actually carries, which leads to some awkward conversations at one’s destination.
3. There is a “Steakhaus™” in Stuttgart that is remarkably en pointe in its attempts to imitate an American steakhouse (even has a sign for “Rest Rooms” instead of “Toilets”) except that they only cook a steak rare or medium – your choice. That said, my “Dame schnitt Filet” was excellent.
4. I was surprised that our German hosts were so friendly and hospitable vs. what I now realize was an ignorant, erroneous and stereotypical, post-Hitlerian impression of that country’s citizens. During our steak dinner [insert Educational Lesson Because I’ve Traveled to Two European Countries and Am Now Rick Steves], I found it fascinating to hear about the layman’s experience of the rise and fall of the Berlin Wall from someone who had family on both sides. Unfortunately, there’s no lack of suffering in the history of Europe, regardless of what country one hails from. This was my first impression of Germany as we flew over the Rhine at daybreak on our descent into Frankfurt: Here is a land that has borne the destructive ambitions of demagogues for hundreds of years.
5. After Stuttgart: Amsterdam. I’m not a huge fan of Dutch cuisine, if there even is such a thing. There IS such a thing as “bitterballen,” a pureed-meatball, hush-puppy-fried concoction that, while enjoyable to snicker about, would be unlamented if I never had the opportunity to eat again.
Bitterballen
6. The water pressure in the NH Den Haag Hotel is a revelation, because I saw God for a moment as I was thrown against the far wall of the shower upon the unleashing of my first Dutch shower (That sounds like a porno movie title, so I apologize to the offended.). There was a frosted window between the shower wall and my hotel room living area, which meant that if I had a roommate, they would have seen the outline of my triple-axel, ass-over-teakettle move OR if I’d managed to bathe myself without incident, a completely unintentional sultry, sexy, and soapy shower scene. Bottom line, I brought home from Amsterdam a doozy of a pulled muscle in an “unmentionable area,” thanks to Dutch water pressure.
7. International travel in Economy – I don’t care what airline you fly – is a soul-destroying, buttock-obliterating experience.
I’m so glad to be back, and soooo glad I had someone who cared for my loveys while I was gone. My sister – who is The Best Sister in the History of Sisters — texted me halfway through my trip:
HJJ: “I don’t think Daisy misses you, but Alfie does.” Later,
HJJ: “They keep trying to go into Ana’s crate,” she continues. “Do they WANT to get eaten?” (Ana is their rather large pit bull mix.)
Then,
HJJ: “I’ve been putting antibiotic ointment on Alfie’s gash. It should be fine.”
