Making a triumphant return, regardless of where from, and where back to, is a grand occassion. But the circumstances surrounding it can of course intensify the experience to an important degree. I sit, in my desolate seat, no lights, no music, but the at sparsely interplaced and maybe opportune times majestic German landscape out my window, as I travel through this country from my home -- its alpine South -- to the trendy, history-filled, cold war-era espionage center of Europe, North of Berlin. Traveling by train is by far the best kind of traveling (save maybe bicycle in certain situations and maybe private jet though I have sadly little experience with the latter) and I am fortunate to have partaken in a healthy dose of it in the years that have come before this time. Traveling across France and into Catelonia or down through the alps into Italy and north-east from Paris to Brussels, Amsterdam, and beyond, I have experienced a beautiful and intrepid landscape that we rarely get to appreciate from high in the sky or the clogged motorways. Though we traveled this route last summer on our way to Copenhagen the autobahn offered us but three sights: (1) road; (2) cars; and, sometimes, (3) a river that was well hidden by the high concrete walls of the bridge towering above it. Today, now more than half-way to Berlin I've seen mountains, endless forests, lakes, and hillside towns with impressive old buildings that, summed up, present a country that has more to offer than we typically imagine. The ICE train can now get us from Munich to Berlin in under 4 hours. A marvel of technology and will, but I sure wouldn't mind if we were traveling a little more slowly.
The triumphant return of which I speak is the same return that seems to be mentioned every time I return these days and that is to the GWMD. Life moves quickly -- more quickly than ever before -- and finding this kind of time in this new kind of life is rare but important. Why complicate life by taking a difficult path if you cannot sit down to enjoy it? Or, more importantly, experience everything it has to offer. Seeing the country, traveling nearby, participating in what is out there. And to truly experience it, one must digest the experience and write about it. The man across the aisle from me is learning Russian on Duolingo. How about that. We have just arrived for a brief stop at the Erfurt central station right smack in the middle of the country. Looks like a charming place that I'll likely never set foot in. Too bad.
It's been nearly three weeks now since Sandi raced the 25 km distance in the Zugspitz Ultra Trail Challenge from Garmisch-Partenkirchen to Grainau. We stayed in town the night before the race and drank beer and ate giant plates of pasta at the foot of a 3 km tall mountain with athletes from more than 30 different countries. During the race Hannah and I swam in the outdoor pool and went down a waterslide seventy-six billion times. No joke.
Last weekend was Canada Day. It was our fifth Canada Day in Germany and to celebrate we drove to a lake at the beginning of the alps to go camping. Camping here is not quite like camping in, say, Algonquin Park, but Hannah slept in a tent with us and we ate banana mixed with chocolate cooked on a BBQ. We played in the warm lake water and watched a swimming race that started and finished right at our campground.
I've been sent (well, I lobbied to be sent) to Berlin as a hired-gun / mercenary to fix all the problems in the Berlin office. I'm sure I will be welcomed with open arms being both an outsider who will somehow claim to know what they should be doing and how everything they have been doing is wrong. Tonight I will attend (my favourite) a Fourth of July party in a park where the temperature is projected to hit 34 degrees. Friday I will be joined by Sandi and Hannah who I'm sure will have an equally relaxing as mine train ride to meet me in Berlin around 9:30 in the evening. I hope that Hannah will appreciate the experience as much as I am.
Until next time, which I sincerely hope will be sooner rather than later.
