Driving lessons

It’s happening, I must face my arch-nemesis head on. That’s right, Mr. Manual Transmission, you and I have a score to settle.

One of the downsides to living in Grenzhof, a historic farming community of 150-200 people that is now part of Heidelberg, is the absolute lack of transportation connecting the community to the rest of civilization in Heidelberg and Mannheim. Fabian’s parents have cars, and I am welcome to use them, but the trick is that they are both manual-transmission. I learned how to drive in America, the land of the lazy drivers who favor automatic-transmission, and need to get my butt in gear (ha!) to learn how to drive stick.

Saturday, my new friend from the baby class wanted to go to a bakery to hang out, but I had no way to get into Heidelberg because Schwiegermutter was busy entertaining a 9-year-old for the day. Instead, I invited Jackie over to go for a walk in the forest and have tea. She had a car, and was happy to come to visit me for the afternoon.

It was a nice visit, and we had chocolate fondue with my German family and the little girl at 4:00p (which was totally random), but it was quite fun. I felt a little bit funny because it was two of my different worlds colliding together (new English speaking friends that I don’t know very well and my German family), and I wasn’t sure how it would go over. But, everyone had a good time. Fabian's mom and Lilly said we looked cute sitting together with our big bellies.

So, getting back to driving. During dinner that evening, my mother-in-law announced that I must learn how to drive on a manual-transmission car so that I can drive to visit my friend in Heidelberg. Learning to drive stick has been on my radar since I moved to Germany, but I’ve just not been proactive about doing anything about it.

Sunday, after lunch, Fabian's mom announced that she wanted ice cream for dessert, and that I was going to drive to the ice cream shop in Eppelheim to get some. Um…. Eeek! I wasn’t excited about driving (or rather stalling a zillion times) in front of everyone. I can stall when I’m by myself or with Fabian and not get too flustered, but I didn’t want a huge audience. She earnestly assured me that it was much less stressful to learn from a woman than from a man.

It turned out that just Fabian, his mom, and me were going to get ice cream, and we took orders to bring ice back for everyone else. Much to my dismay, before I could sit in the passenger seat, I got re-directed to the drivers seat. I stalled the first time I tried to start, then did relatively okay until I got mixed directions about where to turn and stalled just behind the rail crossing gate as a tram was approaching. I was SO glad I could wait and collect my spaz while the tram passed before I had to try starting again! The rest of the drive was fine with a few stalls when I was leaving the ice cream shop, but overall, not too bad. Not too bad at all.

Later in the evening, Fabian and I went to the swimming pool (yes, I wore my bikini baring my big 8-month belly) and he made me drive home. After spending 10-minutes getting out of the parking lot, I had to face real traffic. The drive from Schwetzingen had a lot more traffic than the drive to and from Eppelheim, and I was terrified of having to stop at red lights and stalling and pissing off the drivers behind me. Fortunately, all the lights were green!! :D The only time I stalled after getting out of the parking lot was when I was parking and didn’t clutch hard enough.

It was an incredibly frustrating, yet rewarding day. Overall, a positive experience. I think my next opportunity to practice will be driving to the doctor on Thursday morning. I’m interested to see how badly parallel parking will be… 

But, you hear that Mr. Manual Transmission?! I will defeat you!!!! The prospect of having a real social life and not being stuck in Grenzhof all the time is just too tempting to let you beat me. Again.

Baby clothes are such a pain to sew.

First, you pin the pattern to the fabric.

Then, you get schooled by your second mom reminding you to leave extra space on the edges.

Then, you pin like a mad woman poking yourself many times.

The jacket gets a fleece lining and pockets!

The finished product (complete with AWESOME pants)!!

Three days of work, but I think it was well worth it! :)

So close…

It’s really hitting me that I’m going to be a MOM in five weeks! It’s been one heck of an adventure being pregnant in Germany, and I think the most challenging part is coming up.
Birth.

Last weekend, Fabian and I went to an English-language birth class. I learned a lot, and I feel a lot less uncertain about what to expect. The only things I know 100% now are that 1) labor is going to be a complete bitch, and 2) it will be over before I know it and I’ll have a new friend. I am also pleased because I met some other English-speaking expectant mothers. We traded contact information, and I’m hoping it’s the start of a baby-network in Heidelberg/Mannheim.

We went to see the hospital (Krankenhaus) yesterday, and I sat through the 45-minute presentation (in German) understanding maybe a third of what was said. Then, we toured the labor ward. It’s a very nice hospital, and looks very home-y and un-hospital-y. There are bath tubs (one for pain relief and aiding contractions, and one for a water birth), big yoga ball things, lots of space to walk around, and a “family room” with a big bed where we can stay during and after the birth. Overall, it is very alternative compared to how I picture most US hospital labor rooms. The hospital has a nice feel to it, and I think it will be a good experience. It’s also cool that midwives instead of doctors are the ones who are in charge of the birth (unless there are complications).

At this particular hospital, they recommend staying there for three nights after the birth in the family room (for a mere 48€/night!). The logic is that in the first three days after birth, your midwife and the pediatrician monitor the baby, and perform the first health checks. If I don’t stay at the hospital, I have to look for a midwife who will come to my house to do the checks. It’s a good idea, and it makes sense that to stay and have the extra support and time to recover, but part of me just doesn’t want to stay. I am just frustrated that everything still feels so far beyond my control. Fabian told me I can’t decide now, and that I have to see how things feel in the moment. He’s right, but it doesn’t make me any less frustrated.

Well, I am off for a morning of crafts and sewing. This week I started making a jacket (Jacke) for the baby. It’s red and yellow, with buttons shaped like chickens! :) Today, my mother-in-law (Schwiegermutter), sister-in-law (Schwägerin), and I are going to Schwiegermutters friend's house to continue making baby-things. Today, I hope to finish the jacket and make a baby Schlafsak, which is a blanket that the baby can wear for sleeping. It’s sort of like a baby sleeping bag.

Bis später!

22-Hours in Dublin

It didn’t quite hit me that I would be gone for five months until I was on the plane headed to Dublin. As we sat on the runway waiting for take-off, I realized that there was absolutely no turning back—I was going to Europe whether I was ready or not!

The flight attendants announced a six and a half hour flight, which was great, but I had had it in my head that the flight was longer, so I was bummed that I wouldn’t get as much sleep. I was extremely antsy on the plane, and completed a number of crossword puzzles and listened to comfort music determined not to distract myself with in-flight movies on my personal TV.

Once we were in the air, I waited patiently for the flight attendants to start service because I was incredibly parched and starting to get hungry—the kind of hungry that comes with being slightly anxious. When they finally served me some snacks, I got some pretzel sticks, which were more like pretzel nubs, and a small bottle of water. I had been so thirsty that I downed the water in all of 30-seconds, and had to ask for a second bottle.

Half an hour later, the flight attendants started dinner service! It was my first in-flight meal and I got to choose between a chicken dish and beef ravioli. I took the chicken, which came with a small iceberg lettuce salad, a bun with delicious Irish butter, crackers, a hunk of cheddar, cheesecake, and an Andes mint. Mmm! I felt really dumb when I saw a woman across the aisle putting the crackers and cheese together, because it honestly had not occurred to me to put two and two together! In my defense, I had been running on adrenaline and four and a half hours of sleep.

After dinner, I passed on the coffee and tea so I could attempt to get some shut-eye. After three hours of very light sleep, I was groggy and felt even more exhausted than I had before I slept, but we were finally getting close to Dublin!

Arriving at the Dublin Airport

We landed in Dublin at 6:00 am, and I perked up when we deplaned onto the tarmac in the 55° F morning. I thoroughly enjoyed walking down the airplane steps to see the beautiful Irish morning and the giant Dublin airport in front of me.

I trudged through the airport with the other passengers, and amused myself by noticing the differences in signage everywhere in the airport. When it was finally my turn at immigration, the cranky, and I suspect sleepy, immigration officer looked at me and barked, “When do you leave? Why are you here?” Stamp, check, “Go on.” Well, that was easy. I was glad that I didn’t have to wait for my luggage since it was checked all the way through to Warsaw. Next step? Getting out of the airport!

Outside the airport I found the 748 bus I thought I needed to get to my hostel in Dublin. The bus was a green double decker. I asked the driver if he stopped at Merchants Quay, then took my seat at the very front on the top level so that I could get the best view possible for the ride into the city. It was beautiful to see the sun finish rising over the city, and getting to drive through different areas of Dublin. The only part of the drive that confused me was being on the left side of the road.

I was listening closely for the automatic bus voice to tell me that Merchants Quay was coming up, and while the bus stopped at Woods Quay, the driver announced on the loudspeaker, “If you are looking for Merchants Quay, this is your stop.” I was intensely confused! I walked down the stairs and was about to exit when the driver told me, “Merchants Quay is a few blocks past the light.” Okay, inconvenient, but doable. So, I got off the bus to walk the next few blocks to get to the hostel.

Either I was very bad at following directions, or too tired to notice anything around me, because I ended up walking aimlessly for a solid 30-minutes without any sort of map, hauling my carry-on luggage and getting sore feet. I must have walked in a very big circle, because when I finally found the hostel, I remembered seeing it before—it was hard to forget the awesomely vivid green door next to a cobblestone alley.

After checking into the hostel and dumping my small suitcase, I got a map and started on the rest of my 22-hour adventure. I was determined to see as much as possible without using the bus to get anywhere. The street signs in Dublin were sort of sporadic and I had a hard time figuring out exactly where I was most of the time, but somehow I managed.

I had previously read about a free walking tour of Dublin, and had the host show me where the tour started. I was ready for my first taste of adventure in Dublin! It was a ten minute walk from the hostel to City Hall, where the walking tour started. I got my free ticket, and joined the masses waiting for the tour to start. The guides divided the 100+ tourists into manageable groups, and I joined Richard’s walking tour of Dublin. I thought the tour was pretty awesome. Richard requested group participation, told fun stories, and condensed a thousand years of Irish history into ten minutes! That was a cool party trick.

A cool street in Dublin, Ireland

Half way through the tour, one of the other tourists needed to pee, so Richard took us to the Purty Kitchen. It was a cute restaurant, and I had some delicious creamy vegetable soup (and boy was I ravenous after not eating since dinner on the airplane!) and a cup of coffee. After that break, we continued the tour and visited some cathedrals, castles, and parks.

learned some nice tidbits of information on that tour and especially enjoyed getting to see and learn more about Trinity College. Richard told us that the college was originally built by the British government to educate Protestants. Catholics were forbidden from attending the college on the threat that they would be ex-communicated from the church. I even learned that one can tell how old the Irish post boxes are by looking at the embossed crest. Who would have thought that it is possible to determine the age of a post box?

After the tour was officially over, Richard invited everyone to join him for a proper lunch at a pub called O’Neill’s, and everyone who joined got a voucher for a 10€ lunch. I had a Guinness soaked beef stew with a side of pineapple juice. It was delicious, but SO MUCH FOOD!  After this lunch, I found my way back to the hostel to rest my aching feet.

Back at the hostel, my bed was finally available, so I took my suitcase up to my room and decided to feign sleep for a few minutes. This is where I met Carlee, from Montreal. We started talking, and eventually decided we would go out for drinks in the evening.

Fast forward a few hours, and it is pub time! We walked from the hostel to the Temple Bar neighborhood and got our Guinness on. We wanted to start at the Temple Bar, but could hardly make it in the door because it was so crowded! We spent ten minutes elbowing our way toward the bar when a guy took pity on us and let us sneak up to order. With Guinness in hand, we elbowed our way to the room where musicians were setting up to play tunes for a “seisiún”. Anyway, after about twenty minutes of being smushed against the bar and being constantly ordered through, we decided to hop on over to the Oliver St. John Gogerty Pub.

Gogerty’s was much less crowded, and we actually had some floor space to ourselves without people elbowing us in the face! We ordered more Guinness, took some pictures, and about ten minutes later, were informed that there was live music on the second level—of course we went upstairs! The musicians were a guitarist, a fiddler, and an uilleann piper. They played and sang songs that made me think about the Irish music experience I had growing up. It was here that I had a moment, thinking about how many times I’d been in pubs to see my sister play sessions, and then actually being in an Irish pub with a bona-fide Irish session. It kind of blew my mind because two of my different worlds were colliding.

By then we needed a snack. So, we walked up Fleet Street until we came to Cafe Beag. At Cafe Beag, we ordered 3€ pizza. We sat on the steps across the street from Cafe Beag, and ate our slices of pizza. It was really crappy pizza, but it really hit the spot and soaked up the Guinness in my tummy. It was nice to spend some time chatting and laughing together about how gross and delicious the pizza was. After this rest, we decided to stop by one last pub.

The Brazen Head is the oldest pub in Ireland, established in 1198. So, we went to the oldest pub in Ireland, and didn’t get a drink, which was really okay, because I couldn’t think about more Guinness. The Brazen Head has a wall for police and firefighter badges, and Carlee brought one of her dad’s patches to put on the wall. It was really cool!

We went back to the hostel around 11:00pm and hung out in the common room for a while. Carlee went up around 1:30am, and I am still up at 3:00am. I am staying up until I get on the airplane, where I will sleep for a few hours so I can get through my first day in Warsaw.

I’m sad to be leaving Ireland because it feels like I’ve only gotten to glimpse what the country has to offer, but I am excited about getting to go to Poland!

25-26 September 2010, Dublin, Ireland