Jerusalem, Tiberias and beyond!

Time just has a way of getting away from a person.  I have finished my 5^th week in Hebrew Ulpan (language school) and it is starting to get more challenging although by building on what I already know and practicing regularly, I am getting the hang of it.  There is so much to do and see in Jerusalem, and that, coupled with showing my dad and Betsy around, I find myself ready to branch out a little. We have done the big things, plus some stuff I haven’t done before.  Some of those things involve walking in the West Bank, in East Jerusalem, and while I understand the idea of not wanting to take a large group of tourists there for safety’s sake, there are things not to be missed.  Things like walking up the Mount of Olives from Gethsemane; things like walking through the Lion’s Gate where Stephen was stoned to death as the first Christian martyr, and walking around the ruins of the pools at Bethesda where Yeshua (Jesus) healed a crippled man. We have been to the serene Garden Tomb and walked the Via Dolorosa from “The Pavement” where Yeshua was tried by Pilate, to the elaborate Church of The Holy Sepulcher. Walking in and out of the Damascus Gate and in the Muslim and Christian Quarters calls for keeping a watchful eye, but overall, it has been awesome.  We went this last week to The Davidson Center near the Dung Gate and they have recently opened the Ophel: the corner where the old old city met the Temple.  It was very cool ascending the giant marble stairs that once up led into the Temple grounds and seeing the remains of houses and mikves and other artifacts and excavations. I had to hum Shir LaMaalot (a song of ascents – Psalm 121) while I was going up to the Temple Mount.  This weekend we are in the Galilee in places like the Mount of Beatitudes and Capernaum, walking around the hill area that Yeshua and the disciples knew so well.  Staying in a nice apartment overlooking the Kinneret (Sea of Galilee) is nice too. As I write I see fishing boats on the glassy waters of the Kinneret with a light fog subduing the far shore.
We have had a lot of rain (torrential at times) but it makes everything so green and beautiful, not to mention cleaning the air.  Of course when you add in the cold weather, it has been just short of miserable on some days. There have been a few more terrorist attacks since I last blogged, awful things, but I have managed to stay out of trouble.  There are lots of police and IDF strapped with weapons and riot gear standing by, everywhere from the holy sites to the trains, so I feel like as long as I don’t get crazy, or act too suspiciously when trying to get a cough drop out of my bag, I will be fine.  That last bit bears mentioning since people always seem to wonder about safety.  At least I am not in Ferguson.  I feel quite safe in my ‘hood in Jerusalem, but as a Palestinian classmate told me the other day, “Of course you feel safe here.  You are not a Jew or an Arab.” I suppose everything is relative. My life is blessed and my opportunities are a gift…a thing I have to keep in front of my mind. The pictures are from top to bottom, then left to right: Mount of Olives; Golgotha (Garden Tomb); Temple Stairs (Ophel); police at Damascus Gate; Soldiers in the Jewish Quarter; Byzantine remains (Old City); Western Wall tunnels; Pools at Bethesda; Tower of David (Citadel); Dome of the Rock grounds; Gethsemane; Calvary (Church of the Holy Sepulcher);  White synagogue at Capernaum; Jordan River

 

 

I have been in my apartment and my Hebrew classes for two weeks now and everything is going great. Of course there is a learning curve to everything and I have to be re-taught many lessons. A nice Jewish lady from somewhere like Philadelphia told me at a bakery, “These people are so rude.” I scratched my head and told her, “No, but they are so Israeli.”  She thought I was being funny, but truthfully, I have to remember things like standing in line and waiting your turn is very Okinawan, but not very Israeli.  I have to remember that every taxi driver takes a course in a) how to spot a tourist; b) how to make him feel guilty about saying no to a private tour, and c) how to barter on everything and not take no for an answer.  Fortunately I know a little Arabic and can tell them, “La Shukran…Kul shay tamam” or “No thanks, everything is cool.” If that doesn’t work I just say “Ani Gar Po” (or, “I live here”, in Hebrew).That doesn’t fix anything but I have to believe it helps quell the force of the sales pitch. I have to remember that walking down the road is a game of chicken…nobody moves out of anyone’s way and when you bump somebody’s shoulder you either give them a mean face or ignore them completely. I have to remember to not assume that anybody is Jewish or Arab and keep any of my thoughts about the Israeli and Palestinian issue to myself. I don’t discuss American politics either…you never know whose side who is on, but one thing I know…most Israelis and Palestinians I have talked to don’t like Obama due to his disdain for the lot of them…of course, the “chicken sh*t” comment didn’t help, but THIS is not a political blog.  I have made some friends in my ulpan (intensive language course) from all over the world, Germany, Hong Kong, Slovenia, France, and more, and several Palestinians.  Everybody is awesome in the class – we laugh and tell stories in Hebrew about ourselves and our homes and families.  Learning in an ulpan is wonderful and I think my Hebrew is improving at a good clip…plus I speak it everywhere I go. Unfortunately, the last language that I mismanaged was Japanese and tonight after a nice but challenging convo in Hebrew, I said to the lady “Arigato”. Dad thought that was pretty funny. Having my dad here with me has been great.  I think sometimes having another person by your side helps overcome fears that, alone, would be intimidating: things like walking around East Jerusalem, which I am getting familiar with.  Whenever we are concerned we always ask, “What would Mark [my brother] do?”  He would do it…and so do we. Walking around Jerusalem and seeing things you might never get on a tour is great.  We have met and chatted with a lot of people and wandered through places like Gethsemane, Bethesda, The Garden Tomb, Via Dolorosa.  We have explored a lot of side streets and alleyways to find interesting places and people. Of course we have been to the Western (Wailing) Wall, the new Temple Institute, the Tower of David and the Church of the Holy Sepulcher.  A couple of nights ago we heard a thunderous musical extravaganza about 9 p.m. and decided to go in search of it.  It was a bunch of Chasidim celebrating in the streets and playing music and dancing wildly as they took the Torah into the synagogue.  The music was lively and the mood was enthusiastic. We enjoyed it, then we went home.  Always something new and interesting and I am excited about what the next 11 weeks will bring.

PS: there have been more terrorist attacks lately, but I am watchful and cautious, plus I am not hanging out in places where an attack is more likely to happen.  Of course I know it can happen anywhere, but it is certainly less likely in my mixed Arab and Jewish and Goyim neighborhood.  No worries, here.  If anything, I would invite all my friends to come see me in Jerusalem, when or if I get a job here be-ezrat HaShem. Shabbat Shalom y’all.

Downtime in Tennessee

I have been back in the USA for 2 months now. I don’t know that I have accomplished much, but I have managed to keep myself occupied.  My Oriental carpets from Turkey and Afghanistan are in better shape than I expected due to the color running and being folded during the Great Pensacola Flood of 2014…still despite the fact that they are nowhere near showroom quality, I figure the flood adds to their individual stories. Their smell will certainly add to that story unless I can figure out a way to make them smell more like camels and less like sewage. I have sorted through almost everything that I salvaged and have thrown out a fair amount of permanently damaged stuff, or things that I looked at and wondered “why in the world am I saving this?” Now I can almost put all my worldly possessions in the bed of my truck when I move again.  That’s quite a downsize from a 3 bedroom house. Other things have been busy work like, banking, doctor’s appointments, fighting to settle my worker’s comp case…you know, the kind of stuff that gets in the way of having fun.  My son John and his girlfriend Autumn made me the grandfather on August 12^th of Cayden, a 9 and a half pound baby boy.  I got to spend 22 consecutive hours with my Blake the day he picked me up at the airport coming in from Okinawa until I dropped him off to catch his plane back to Orlando.  I really like that guy.  I am catching up on quality time with my parents as well, living very close to each of them. I am staying in an apartment in the back of my dad’s barn with a bunch of farm equipment, so although I have privacy, a nice place and a great view of the woods complete with hoot owls, deer, and things that shriek in the night, I have to admit that I miss my apartment in Okinawa with the view of the East China Sea. I miss my people in Okinawa too, some more than others (you know who you are) but I guess that is par for the course.  The School Age kids at Camp Kinser in sent me a video birthday song via FB, which made my day…that and the strawberry cake my mom made and a great birthday dinner with my dad. Then that afternoon as I was turning 35, I hit the road for Wisconsin to attend my niece Amanda’s wedding. My other niece Andrea was her bridesmaid.  I must say, even though I may be a little prejudiced that my nieces are two of the most beautiful young women EVER. My new nephew Jordan and his son Jaden were also quite striking. Last week I was off to see my “other” grandkids (Robert and his family) in Columbus, Ohio, and then to see my buddy Sue in Philadelphia (and New York) for a few days. Soon, I will be headed back to Florida for a week to meet Cayden, then back home to prep for my move to Jerusalem on October 23^rd.  I am stoked beyond words and I get to share it with my Dad for a month before my stepmom joins us for a couple of weeks. Almost everyone in my family will have been to Israel with me after this. Now you have it. That brings me up to date as far as the blog goes. Still a lot to do over the next several weeks.  I expect my next blog posting will be from the eternal city Jerusalem.

Surgery in Okinawa...or One Night in Kaiho

Sorry folks...no pictures this time...just a delightful story. I guess I should have been using my thinking cap and taking pictures along the way of my doctors clinics nurses hospitals and of course my arm.  Hindsight is 20/20 and sometimes 50/50, LOL. Let me say a couple of things about being in a Japanese Hospital.  I noticed a few things that were very different from American hospitals.  Let me just say that I showed up at 11:00 for a noon operation.  The first thing was probably the fact that the Kaiho Hospital was clean but not American-style sterile.  Many of the staff wore masks, which is not uncommon in Japan but they did not seem overly concerned about making sure everything was mopped up cleaned up sterilized and bleached. There were no hand sanitizer dispensers every 6 feet with warning signs about MRSA and hand washing techniques, and a slow painful gruesome death that awaits anybody who ignores the warnings.  The nurse who drew my blood wiped my arm with an alcohol swab then felt for a vein with her bare fingers, and drew the blood.  When I was admitted the paperwork was just: name, address, phone number, emergency contact…5 minutes max, including translation.  I got to my room a few minutes later and was met by a team of nurses all giggling, twittering, and bowing.  They quickly and efficiently got me into a hospital gown, orthopedic stockings, started an IV, took vital signs and practiced speaking English while I practiced speaking Japanese. When it was time to go to the OR I walked downstairs with my IV pole accompanied by a nurse and my surgeon to a big curtain draped across the hallway.  After changing out of my street shoes and into operating room slippers, I walked behind the curtain to see my Dr. sitting at a computer.  Behind him was a large open room with an operating table, towels and blankets, a large tray with instruments and a couple of people milling about in OR scrubs and masks.  Once again everything looked very clean, neat and orderly, but not necessarily sterile in the way a Navy Corpsman is trained to see it.  I was not in a position to be demanding an American style sterile field or to be questioning my surgeon just before going under the knife.  Plus it occurs to me that maybe the Japanese have a better grip on things than we do in some cases.  I just hoped that this was one of those cases.  I lay on the table draped for surgery with this surgeon telling me not to worry and everything would be fine, when in walks the anesthesiologist who pulls his mask down, and says “Konnichiwa, Garry san”.  So I’m laying there thinking "dude put a mask on", when Dr. Shiroma says, “now you’ll feel a pinch as I start the nerve block.” After that everything seemed pretty routine, I fell asleep, and woke up afterwards feeling like I just had a nice nap.  They rolled me back into my room on my bed about 3:00 and shortly after getting situated, my two colleagues Christina and Samantha arrived.  They told me that my Dr. had explained the surgery, the outcome and the prognosis to them in detail without the benefit of release of information and with no regard for HIPAA.  They laughed and said they could’ve gotten any information they wanted.  I replied maybe the Japanese do not look for a reason to sue somebody and do not see any personal benefit to be gained by knowing somebody else’s personal health information.  Christina and Samantha brought me a big soft pillow and some flowers, because someone had told them a pillow would be nice because all I had was a small stone…well actually 2 tiny buckwheat pillows.  I got through the night OK however the Japanese appear to have a much higher pain threshold than I have since my pain medication was a mild analgesic/anti inflammatory agent which I asked for at 6:30 PM when the first pangs of discomfort began.  I dozed off about 730 or eight but then woke up again at 10 as the pain began to throb even though my arm was elevated and strapped to a pole.  They told me that I could not get a shotto (injection) but that I could get a soppo, which I learned meant suppository pain reliever.  I really didn’t much care how they gave it to me at that point.  So it went all night every 3 hours alternating a shotto and a soppo.  Surprisingly I actually slept OK that night but in the morning my Dr. called to check on me.  He asked if I needed anything and I said, “stronger pain meds.” After breakfast and spilling some of my soup on my chest, my cadre of nurses came in giggling, twittering and bowing to remove my IV, help me change clothes, and get to the bathroom.  Apparently they forgot that I had a nerve block the day before so when the nurse released my arm from the pole, it just fell.  I guess I forgot too because I just watched my fist punch me in the face.  Apparently drinking water is BYOB, hence the confusing look on the faces of the nurses whenever I would ask them in my most polite Japanese for some water. They brought me a cup and filled it with tap water looking at me as if they were wondering, “what the heck is he going to do with that?” After a while I just decided I would get my own cups of water, as long as I could keep from hitting myself in the face.  So about noon I had lunch and then began the process of discharging, moving around the room by myself with my arm supported by my other arm and waiting for Christina to pick me up and take me to my doctor’s office.  They loaded me up with antibiotics, analgesics and antipyretics and a two weeks’ supply of Tramacet for pain collected my credit card payment and sent me on my way.  Overall I have to say the experience was…if not delightful, at least made pleasant for a guy 8000 miles from home

Okinawa Winter

My view this morning as I write this blog entry

Although my failure to blog in several months may seem like I have been so busy, in truth, I have been just living life.  It is very different when you go somewhere to live for a year rather than a few weeks or months.  I realize more keenly than ever the difference between living somewhere and visiting. Rather than finding cool places to visit and take photo ops, I find myself going to the grocery, doing laundry, reading, going to the gym, walking, an occasional date, etc. Don’t get me wrong, I still enjoy Okinawa and my job, just without the compulsion to travel or blog every weekend.  So please forgive me whilst I catch up on lost time.  There was the holiday season which flew by. Thanksgiving was a rainy chilly day when I went to a glass factory and then came home to a crockpot turkey and veg meal with my friend Laura.  Christmas was nice, except that most of the presents I was expecting arrived in the weeks afterward. There was my Clamshell Chanukiah which I later realized was probably not the kosher thing to do. New year came and went and then FSU won the National Championship, which was the highlight of my winter.  Finally received my victory sweatshirt at the end of February. Coldish, windy and rainy is how I describe Okinawa winter. Of course the windy part is pretty much all the time, but now it is finally Spring.  The cherry blossoms are out, all the flora is starting to bloom and the island is waking up from its wintry nap. As I look out from my balcony at an almost glassy sea and bright sunlight I realize just how fortunate I am and how much I need to take advantage of the time and opportunity given to me.  I will try and blog a little more often since there is so much here to see and do.  Now that spring is here and summer is around the corner, I kind of feel myself coming back to life, much like the island, from my winter nap.  These few pics will not fully sum up the past 5 months but may in some way put into perspective how nice Okinawa really is. Maybe my next entry will actually be interesting to read!

 

Naha Tug of War…With a Great Shout

Picture a quarter million people converging downtown on the city, all with the single purpose of pulling a 200 meter, 43 ton rope to win the world’s biggest tug-of-war. The anticipation built all day with the first people showing up in the morning to look at and take pictures beside the rope which stretched down the center of Highway 58 in downtown Naha, Okinawa. I got there and looked at the rope which stood 4 feet tall with hundreds of arms of additional rope which would later be spread out to give more people the chance to pull. My first thought was “Wow, all this way to look at a rope and then maybe pull on it later” but I sensed something in the air that I couldn’t minimize, despite my best effort. I remember reading that this is a tradition and that the tug of war symbolized a reenactment of the epic wars between East and West Okinawa during the reign of the Ryukyu Kings in the 16^th century.  It was the 43^rd Great Tug Of War tourist and world record holding event, but the tradition had been going on for 400 years; my cynicism subsided as I weighed the span of time and the power of tradition. I got a bite to eat from a road-side vendor: something like an omelet with cheese, slaw and a variety of toppings and seasonings which was delicious but hard to eat with chopsticks. I remembered to not rub my chopsticks together to scrape off any burrs or splinters, as this is only done as a death and burial ritual, and dug in.  But I forgot  the rule about taking your trash home with you since there are no waste receptacles on the streets, so I just returned my paper plate and chopsticks to the vendor who disposed of them for me since I asked so nicely in butchered Anglo-Japanese.  Warriors and clans began gathering in late morning with great displays of Karate katas (Karate was created in Okinawa) and strength and control as one man at a time, they carried their banners on long heavy wooden poles with unbalanced and top-heavy emblems and colors flying at the top in the breeze. All this amid the clamor of shouting, banging drums and clanging gongs. The mood was getting more intense as the seemingly endless parade of clans moved down Kokusai-dori and the crowds began to throng toward the site of the main event. I thought the tug of war was to start

at 2:00, but I was wrong…the spectacle started at 2:00.  First we had to have several false starts as the many tourists attempted to get on the rope only to be directed to drop the rope and move back. There were speeches telling the story of the war, welcoming of dignitaries, a giant ball full of balloons and confetti had to be split from east to west, the “kings” of the east and west had to meet in the middle for their battle, then the east rope and west rope had to be moved together to be joined, then the slack had to

be taken out of the rope (remember we’re talking about a 43 ton rope (that’s 86 thousand pounds to you and me). Then finally, a few minutes after 4, in the hot, hot sun the war began.  With a great and mighty shout the two sides began to pull.  Loud chanting of “OYO, OYO”, ringing bells, clanging gongs, beating drums, whistling (Okinawans love to whistle) created an electricity as the war went on.  Then one side won, but I have no idea who.  I have a feeling it doesn’t really matter anyway because Okinawa was united. I managed to beat the crowd back to the monorail to get to my ride and go home afterward, and unlike the aftermath of a FSU game, there was no ongoing shouting and drunken melee.  People just getting back to their lives.
On an unrelated note: the typhoons were nothing to write home about, at least from where I watched them; they passed far enough south and north to not give me any trouble. Just a lot of wind and rain.  I think my perspective is different since I don’t have kids at home, I don’t have a giant live oak tree hanging over my head and dropping limbs. And if there is damage to my abode, I just move. If my car gets damaged, I just get a new one.

Okinawa Habu & Land Mines

It is hard to believe that 2 months have already almost breezed by. I am almost to the point of accepting that driving here is not going to get better or that the Okinawan drivers will never make sense to me. As much as the driving is frustrating a couple of things have stood out to me. I have only seen two accidents on the roads and both have involved Americans; at least I assume they are Americans being scantily clad heavily tattooed Caucasoids near the military bases. Despite the apparent lack of any real rules, I have noticed no local cars that are dented and banged up like I saw in Turkey. This leads me to think there is a rhythm and rhyme to the driving here which I have as yet been unable to tap. I am enjoying my time here, though, and have taken it slow getting out into the culture and landscape. Certain social aspects which generally involve my colleagues, of which there are so many that you could pretty much throw a rock in any direction and hit one, make me feel like flying wa-a-a-ay beneath the radar. Flying low is hard when you score a 45 on Dr. Phil’s personality quiz. Anyway, I have managed to get out a little bit and really to just enjoy quiet time and spending time in low key activities. I was invited last week to explore some old Japanese bunkers in areas that were eventually taken by the US Marines with much bloodshed during the WWII Battle for Okinawa. These were in secluded and overgrown areas off the beaten path. About halfway up one of the Ridges, known as Ryan’s Ridge, my friend who showed it to me said, “By the way watch out for Habu, because he is watching you.” Habu is the extremely deadly viper that lives here and is particularly aggressive. I thanked him for the heads up and then he added, “And if you take a step and here a click, don’t move…there are unexploded land mines out here.” So a fun time was had by all and I found a cool souvenir, but didn’t have time to look for any real artifacts which I understand are at every corner. And I didn’t step on a land mine that I know of. I am uploading this addendum to my blog, not because I have so many profound things to say and show, but because I have gotten a few good pictures I would like to share. The fish were playing Nemo style and I love the photo...yes I took it.  The couple below were getting their wedding photos done at Zakimi Castle.  I had to get an extreme photo of the lighthouse and cliffs.  The boys were on a ledge playing around and my heart was racing mainly because I was sure one would fall to his death.  The sign speaks for itself!

Okinawa at first glance

One month into my stay in Okinawa, and I have moved from a nice if hot and congested place in downtown Okinawa City to a really nice place on the beach in a slightly more rural area.  The drive will take a little longer, but the change of scenery is well worth it. It seems like I often write about driving as one of my memorable experiences wherever I go and Okinawa is no different.  First it was England with all the roundabouts going the opposite direction, then Turkey with no discernible rules and a crash, then Japan with the girls in high heels and miniskirts riding bikes while chatting on their cell phones and holding an umbrella, then Netherlands with more bikes than cars and none of them ridden by anyone with an awareness of cars also sharing the road.  Now it is Okinawa’s turn to bear the brunt of my driving wit.  There are the 2 lane roads on which drivers can stop anytime or anywhere they like. 2 lane roads have no turn lane so anyone going right (across traffic) backs up cars behind it. Of course most cars squeeze around it to the left and the right turning car might actually be generous and move into oncoming traffic so the cars behind can get around.  Of course then the oncoming traffic has to squeeze to the left to avoid running into the car that is turning. 4 lane roads are a little better except that the left lane is also the parking lane, the bus lane and the taxi lane and the right lane is also often the turning lane, so traffic on a four lane is generally a snake-like thing with cars weaving in and out of the parking or turning cars, each one trying to get ahead of the cars in front and to either side.  It is more like an amoeba than a snake actually with the shape and speed constantly morphing into another shape and speed.  There are some turn lanes on the 4 lane roads though and that is generally a surprise and a welcome luxury.  Driving in Okinawa is like finding the Isla de Muerta; in order to navigate it you have to already know where everything is.  And I am learning. Oh yes…and a red light means, get as many more cars through as possible before the green light people come out and broadside you.  They always say here, “when the light turns green, count to three before you go, because there are likely a couple more cars trying to get through.”  And did I mention driving again on the left side of the road.  Yeah…and that! The only road rage here is mine to own. I don’t mean to in any way disparage Okinawa or Okinawan people.  They have been wonderful and generous.  They seem to appreciate me trying to speak Japanese and they try to speak English but I think they have resisted it since the whole war thing and the US occupying forces that dominated for about 60 years, and still maintain several large bases on the island.  Work is fine and pretty standard stuff, really. I am surrounded by thousands of Marines so I guess this may be one of the safest places on earth.  I went to the library the other day on the base and was a little disappointed when all I found were coloring books and dot-to-dot books.  I was a little relieved to see the officers section actually had some word-find books, but still it wasn’t enough for me and I figured I would be wasting my breath to try and ask for something with actual sentences. I guess I have to finish War and Peace now. The sunset picture here is from my new place and others are various and mostly self explanatory. It’s good to be king, though…it always is.

 

Home again...

I got home from Germany at the end of May and immediately started working on my house leaning towards the likelihood of renting it out rather than selling it. Either way I had a lot of work to do starting with painting the remainder of what I didn’t do the summer before.  So between the scraping, washing, priming and painting, I started going through rooms and the barn and throwing out all the junk that accumulated over 18 years in the same house.  You know… the stuff that you keep, thinking “someday I will find a use for this.”  Between the garbage dumpster and the recycling can and bulk pickups, I had full loads every week for the folks from Sanitation Services.  I gave away a lot of stuff and took several truckloads to the Mission. As I cleaned sorted and packed I moved gradually from one room to the next emptying it and taking stuff to storage.  All that to say, my house is clean as a whistle with freshly painted ceilings and a few touch up jobs.   A lot of memories go with that house, but after all the things that made it a home were out, it was much easier to let go. Big Sigh! Hurricanes, kids, me…a lot of history.  Now on to new exciting adventures.  I leave in a couple of weeks for Okinawa for a 6 month gig, but at least this time I won’t have to fret about my house being empty and no more relying on others to handle things like mail. Jared and Tifany have done a great job for me and even mowed my grass and bought staple groceries pending my return each time, but all in all, this is a big relief.   Replacing my water heater and re-doing to electrical boxes in the house was kind of an unplanned expense, but needed to be done.  Almost a shame to get my house so clean and updated, only to hand the keys over for somebody else to enjoy. Another sigh!  So I guess my next blog entry will be from Okinawa telling all about life on a tropical island.

 

FCK Strasbourg and Heidelberg

 The Fußball game was a blast. I kind of remembered some of the rules for playing soccer, but watching it on this kind of level was exciting and made me care less about the rules than winning! Winning is always good and I definitely prefer it to most of the alternatives, but it was my first time and not only did my local team win, they shut out the opponent who WAS ahead in the rankings! Beer, a big beef bratwurst, and singing the FCK fight song made for a wholly enjoyable experience. Sue and I rode the shuttle bus from the burbs to the the stadium which was built for the FIFA World Cup series in Germany in 2006, seats 50K (was sold out) and is a pretty fancy arena, I can tell ya!

The next morning I woke up pre-dawn and caught the train to the French border city of Strasbourg to meet my good friend Kathy. It’s very cool with an amazing old city and possibly the nicest church I have ever seen. It was the Eglise St. Pierre de la Jeune. The frescoes are still very vibrant some 700 years after they were painted. The architecture dates back to the 11^th century. It was so beautiful that I was compelled to sing a hymn inside. Nobody shushed me so I guess it wasn’t too awful. The Strasbourg Cathedral was an awesome experience as my entry was greeted by a final rehearsal for that evening’s concert of the Baroque stylings of Vivaldi and Bach, complete with a stunning mixed youth choir and orchestra (almost made me cry). MY youth choir in high school was nothing like this. How amazing to see the blend of old and new, with $800 a pair Prada shoe boutiques sidling up next to 12^th century buildings. Very French and very lovely…not that I necessarily equate the two along those lines but it was…both. 

Last weekend I went with my friend Ditmara to Heidelberg. Whenever I see castles I am excited and thrilled, and like a dog that gets excited everytime it’s owner asks in breathy tones, “Who’s a good boy? Who’s a good boy?”, I almost run around in circles as fast as I can with my tongue hanging out. All that to say it never truly gets old. I have had dinner twice in the last couple of weeks in castles and have to pinch myself each time. Heidelberg is almost too good for words but I will give it a try. The huge castle has some towers that are intact and others that have split in two over time. The moat is so deep that standing in it’s bottom (it has no water, FYI) and looking up at the towers fills me with awe at the engineering feat. Some walls reach to the sky without any adjacent walls to support them and their giant glassless windows look like a Dali painting. The Altstadt (old city) is beautiful with several churches and this ancient university… Germany’s oldest seat of

learning founded in 1386. Great food, great company and beautiful weather made the We spent hours walking along the Philosophers Walk along the hills opposite the Neckar River from the old city. Just brilliant.

I am so fortunate and so blessed in my life. None of us deserves blessing, so I feel most privileged to get to do what I do. The work is so rewarding and the fringe benefits are over the top. Today, I overheard somebody talking good about me behind my back, loudly and in public. As if that wasn’t enough, a kid told me “I hope you never leave” and then I drove home the long way through the mountains with my windows down and took a spontaneous walk out across a field. Ah…God is good to me, despite myself!