Dutch flower bulbs

2 Fat Girls on a Volcano Top 100 Things to See/Do Before You Die:

1. South Rim of the Grand Canyon

2. Temple of Poseidon at Cape Sounion

3. Walk up Monmarte and watch the sun set over Paris from the steps of Le Sacre Cour

4. Hagia Sofia of Istanbul

5. Walking tour of the Coliseum

6. The Scarab beetle ceiling, King's Palace, Brussels, Belgium

7. St. Paul's Dome at night, as seen from the Millenium footbridge, London

8. Albuquerque Balloon Festival

9. Anne Frank's House, Amsterdam

10. General Post Office, Dublin, Ireland

11. Wander through Venice on foot

12. Have tapas on the waterfront in Barcelona

13. Fisherman's Bastion, Budapest

14. Viennese New Year's Eve Concert

15. Mirabel Gardens, Salzburg, Austria

16. National Finals Rodeo, Las Vegas

17. Leed's Castle, England

18. The Greek Amphitheater ruins of Taormina, Sicily

19. Stay overnight in the monastery of Assisi

20. Cruise the Seine on a summer day

21. Live Theatre in London's West End

22. The Library at Ephesus

23. The Kentucky Derby

24. Sunset tour of the canals of Venice

25. Windjammer Days, Boothbay Harbor, Maine

26. Try Limoncello in Capri

27. Walk up the Acropolis to the Parthenon

28. Throw a coin in the Fountain of Trevi

29. Eat chocolate dipped Belgian waffles in Le Gran Place, Brussels

30. Dromoland Castle, Ireland

31. The Musee D'Orsay, Paris

32. Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam

33. Valletta, Malta

34. Marsala salt mills, Italy

35. La Familia Sagrada, Barcelona

36. U.S.S. Constitution in Boston Harbor

37. Punting on the Cam, Cambridge, England

38. The Leaning Tower of Pisa

39. The Black Fort, Inishmore, Ireland

40. Michelangelo's David, The Uffizi, Florence, Italy

41. Topkapi Palace, Istanbul

42. Empire State Building, New York City

43. Cloud Gate, Millenium Park, Chicago

44. Napa Valley, California

45. Sydney Opera House

46. White Cliffs of Dover

47. Alaska's Inside Passage

48. Niagara Falls, Canada

49. Mount Haleakala, Hawaii

50. The Sistine Chapel, Vatican City

51. The Pantheon, Rome

52. The Golden Gate Bridge

53. Barossa Valley, Australia

54. The rust colored sails of the Hooker boats, the Claddagh, Galway, Ireland

55. The Cliffs of Moher

56. Notre Dame, Paris

57. Schoenbrunn, Vienna

58. The Burren, Ireland (closer then the moon, same landscape)

59. The Maasai Mara Wildlife Reserve, Kenya

60. The Space Needle, Seattle

61. Yellowstone National Park

62. The Tribune Building, Chicago

63. The Statue of Liberty, New York City

64. The Olympic Stadium, Athens, Greece

65. The David Sheldrick Wildlife Trust Nursery, Nairobi, Kenya

66. Big Ben

67. The Vienna Christmasmarkt at Rathausplatz

68. Melk Abbey

69. Jackson Pollock at the Peggy Gugenheim, Venice

70. The Eiffel Tower at night

71. Palazzo Ducale, Venice

72. Amalfi Coast

73. The Karen Blixen House

74. Leopold II summer palace, Tervuren, Belgium

75. Mount Rushmore, South Dakota

76. Pike Place Market, Seattle

77. The Lipizzans performing at the Imperial Hofburg Palace, Vienna

78. The Salza River, Salzburg

79. The Belvedere, Vienna

80. Tuscany, Italy

81. Charleston, South Carolina

82. San Diego Zoo, California

83. The monuments of Washington, D.C.

84. The horse tetrad inside the second floor of Basilica San Marco, Venice

85. Savannah, Georgia

86. Newport, Rhode Island

87. Pompeii

88. Toronto, Ontario, Canada

89. Steel drum music in the Bahamas

90. The Summer Music Concert on the island in the Danube, Vienna

91. Rocky Mountain National Park, Colorado

92. Fanuiel Hall, Boston

93. Independence Hall, Philadelphia

94. Frank Llyod Wright's Monona Terrace, Madison, Wisconsin

95. Leuven, Belgium

96. Stefansdom, Vienna

97. Vancouver, British Columbia

98. St. Augustine, Florida

99. Bruges, Belgium

100. Mt. Etna, Italy

Wanderlust Melting Pot

As I muse, I sit immersed in a Viennese bathtub full of bubbles, drinking a full bodied Spanish red wine from a glass acquired at a boutique Virginia winery. I am reading an Italian memoir; Tuscan to be precise. My iPhone is belting out Edith Piaf from iTunes Radio, and my very American husband pops his head in the bathroom to ask if I need a top up on the wine. I tell him thanks but no, that he should finish the bottle if he likes.

And it strikes me, how there is so much to see but yet sometimes the layers of experience layer over one another, like Mille foile or a gauzy dress that you can almost see through.  We have just booked our trip to Portugal for our friend, Jules' wedding. And I have been looking forward to having some time to plan our spare time during that trip. So far we have arrived only at the fact that our five and a half hour layover in Brussels gives us time to catch the train and lunch at Le Gran Place. Jon has never been, and I hope to have a moment to stop at Neuhaus, my favorite chocolatier in the world.

To this day my dear Swiss friend, Silvia, and I argue over who has the best chocolate.

But I find myself contemplating the adventure of house shopping in Tuscany, even though we are still furnishing our apartment here in Vienna, as well as making mortgage payments on our house in Charleston, SC.

According to my TripAdvisor profile the other day, I have only seen 12% of the world. How can that be possible? I have been to 4 continents! How will I ever see everything I want to see, and have the career of my dreams as well as a wonderful and happy marriage? I need more lives, like a cat!

And oddly, at the same time, I think of all the places I have listened to Edith Piaf, and the crazy On The Globus Go adventures mom and I had in Italy, and it seems like I have already lived lifetimes.

Jon and I met this darling couple on our safari in Kenya. They were retired and traveling the world boldly. They had seen a lot, been places we haven't, and yet they were so excited for all we had seen and done, for our exciting lifestyle of adventure.

It is something I have to remind myself of, rather often, because like anything, it is easy to get bogged down I how hard the day to day is. But I believe it is like that anywhere, so I hope to enjoy everything this opportunity has to offer, and to try to ignore the difficult days. 

For example, I found out last week that my PhD, in Holland, will be largely based in Bioengineering. I have no experience or training in Engineering, but those who knew my dad are laughing with him about this!

So for now, we will try to keep living the dream, for as long as it lasts. And we will try our best to chuckle at the many, many bumps in the road.

And so the New Year Begins...

Here it is another year, and the Twitter feed is full of people asking what travel destinations, bucket list items, and new year resolutions everyone has planned. All that is well and good, but what about enjoying the season?  I know there is a lot going on, but everyone seems so rushed to move on. What happens to all those great moments we spent, celebrating the Christmas spirit and ushering in the New Year? Do they just get lost in a sea of checking items off a list? Isn't the point of having memories being able to pause, look back, and reflect on those special moments?

Don't get me wrong, I have plenty of travel destinations in mind myself for this brand spanking new year.  We will head to Portugal for the wedding of two dear friends, and we are planning to head back to the US to visit Jon's family in December.  No doubt there will be many more trips throughout the year: I have my heart set on showing Jon some of Italy, and we are dying to visit Prague.  Skiing would be fun as well, since we are in Austria and all. 

But I think it is important to fully take the time to cherish these moments we experience in life. For example, last night my mother, my husband and I made our way through a misty evening in downtown Vienna to the dramatically lit Palais Auersperg. We were ushered into a vaulted oval performance hall lined with rose marble walls and exquisite crystal chandeliers, where we listened to an orchestra featuring a famous antique violin known for appearances at the esteemed Viennese Philharmonic Silvester.  At Intermission we sipped champagne and strolled among the oil paintings on display, undaunted under lavish chandeliers. 

The performance featured an opera duo as well as a ballet duo, and Jon was really enthralled by the opera pieces. At the end of the evening, there was a last piece that featured the opera singers, who had been singing in Italian. This last song was fast and in German, and involved champagne toasts, but I think it was an Austrian tradition, kind of like their version of Auld Ange Syne.  

We headed home to check on our nervous yellow dog and were met by a constant barrage of fireworks. They were everywhere, flickering against the night clouds, sounds exploding all around.  As midnight came and went, people set so many store bought Roman candles off from the street that we could see them just sitting in our 2nd floor living room with the blinds open.  We popped some tiny bubbly bottles that Santa had left in our Christmas stockings and rang in the new year watching the crazy fireworks with Castle on in the background.  For New Year's Day we have tickets to a hockey game near the house, and we are starting our own tradition of New Year's shrimp cocktail and split pea soup with ham. 

This holiday season has been fun, but I think next year we will make some New Year's plans to be out of the city.  The trains apparently don't run, so you have to leave early or drive yourself. And as I much as I enjoy fireworks, I think last night we all felt like it was a WWII reenactment.

Ye Olde Viennese Christmas

 After what has begun to seem like a long stretch of months, my husband and I are becoming accustomed to feeling a bit different from everyone around us.  I don't mean that in an awkward way, but in the sense of being foreign.  And though we are starting to understand more and more of the intricacies present in Austrian life, we do not yet identify with all of them, or even most of them, for that matter.  We have enjoyed experiencing a new culture; it has certainly been an adventure, one that we are excited to continue.  But on occasion, such as during the holidays, we get  a tiny bit homesick, as do I imagine a good number of people.

 But, in a fortunate 'Christmas Miracle' sort of way, we are hosting my mother for this Christmas and New Year's in Vienna.  So the three of us are exploring an old fashioned European Chirstmas.  While sadly we have no snow on the ground, the beauty of the Christmasmarkts remains unparalleled.  Above you can see the tree and the lights at the Rathausplatz Christmasmarkt, our second stop on the Vienna Amazing Christmas Race.  Our first visit, on Saturday, was to the Schoenbrunn Christmasmarkt.  Nestled in front of the Versailles style palace in an large oval, wooden booths neighbored one another so closely as to form a sort of a wall.  In the center of the oval were several small, umbrella style pavilions, housing outdoor heaters, as well as food and drink booths.  We looked at the traditional Christmas wares sold at the first dozen or so booths before we were cold enough to require gluehwein, the Austrian mulled wine ubiqutious at outdoor winter events.  We bought it at the food stand, where it was being offered in commemorative mugs.  We then ventured closer to the heart of the markt, where a huge tree stood, alit with Christmas lights, in front of a small stage.  The front of the stage was a huge glass case, displaying an exquisitely detailed nativity scene, complete with a bejewelled elephant at the birth of Christ.
For lunch we each sampled something different, as Mom had a chocolate waffle, Jonathan some nockeln (noodles) with cheese, and I had what was advertised as the best wurst (sausage) in town.  The sausage was indeed excellent, and was housed in a cheesy pastry that really sealed the deal.  We ate huddled along the standing counter space next to the heater, trying to stay warm.  As we ate, a jazz ensemble played Christmas music from the adjacent, small stage by the nativity.  Jon was so thrilled with his cheesy noodles that I eventually commented, "I guess you can take the boy out of Wisconsin, but you can't take the cheese out of the Wisconsinite."
And before we knew it, the couple that had been standing by us for a while jumped in and asked Jon about Wisconsin.  As it turns out, the guy was from Wisconsin, and we spent the rest of the afternoon listening to more live Christmas music, sampling the different punschen (punches), and chatting with the Americans. 
The favorite was definitely the Baileyspunsch, no surprise there, and mom loved the a capella choir that performed after the jazz ensemble.  She also found some ornaments she liked, cutout paper scenes, but they seemed quite pricey so we vowed to look again Sunday at the next markt.  When the heater and the punsch could no longer keep us warm, we headed home and snuggled up in front of the movie The Holiday with potato corn chowder.  We each took turns dosing on the couch or in the man chair while we watched, and before long we called it a night.
The next morning we had a late breakfast and planned our second day of Christmasmarkt discoveries.  We started at Rathausplatz, which was amazingly beautiful.  Mom bought some funny Austrian Christmas people ornaments to take home as gifts, and we again were forced to have some gluehwein to stave off the chill.  For lunch we had soup in breadbowls, eating gulash and beer and bread soup beneath the gigantic Christmas tree.  After making our way through all the booths at Rathausplatz, we forged ahead to what was described by a few of my colleagues as more authentic of a Christmasmarkt, the Freyung.  This markt was small, and right out of an old Christmas story.  You half expected Scrooge to show up.  It was tiny by comparison to theRathausmarkt, with not more than 50 booths pressed close to one another to shoulder out the cold wind.  The ever present gluehwein and punsch were available, and of course Jon's favorite store was the cold meat counter, where endless salamis dangled above all kinds of other cuts of meat.  High above them all, perched on the top of the meat booth, was the markt's Christmas tree, shining with lights.  Mom bought a chocolate that looked like a whoopie pie, but later she said it was marzipan. 
The cold was closing in on us again, so we pressed on toward our goal: Christmas lights at the Graben.  To get there we of course had to pass through yet another, tiny local Christmasmarkt which was also very cute.  By then the lights had started, large cylinders of Christmas lights hanging far above us in the streets.  We followed them to the Graben, where stings of Christmas lights had been fashioned to simulate chandeliers in a ballrooms, each 'chandelier' rising over 12 feet tall, suspended overhead in twinkling splendour.  This was our crown jewel, so to speak, and it was worth not being able to feel our toes.  We stopped on our way back at the historic and iconic Cafe Landtmann's to warm up.  We were lucky to find seats right away, and from the window one could easily see the lights at the incredible Rathausplatz Christmasmarkt, which were breathtaking.  Mom and I had hot chocolates, and Jon had a classic Viennese hot drink called a Tiger Milk.  We were happy to sit and enjoy the magic of the millions of twinkly lights, but we were also happy for the chance to warm up.  As we made our way back through the Rathausplatz for a final photo at night, the crowds were thick and we smiled, knowing we had been lucky visit it earlier, when we had the chance to see it all and explore, but still to have the pictures of it at night was priceless.  We went home to a hot meal and Chevy Chase National Lampoon's Christmas Holiday. 
Monday was a day of shopping, and how we were able to dodge the crowds I will never know but will always be grateful for.  For dinner, we had a reservation at Le Loft, on the 18th floor of the Sofitel at Schwedenplatz.  Our table overlooked the Donau canal, but there was so much fog we felt like we were eating in a cloud.  It was very serene, and gave the city lights below us a soft, effusive effect, cloaking the city in mystery.  Our food was delicious, and we even had wine and dessert.  The chef sent our table soup samples before our main course, and after our dessert he also sent us a sample of tiny pastries.  We came home after our lavish dinner and curled up in front of the TV, where I fell asleep while Mom and Jon watched reruns of Castle.
I have posted many of our pictures on Facebook and Twitter already, and several of our friends and family have commented on our Christmas adventures so far.  We are happy to have the chance to share our Christmas with so many of our loved ones, and if any of you are able to join us for an upcoming holiday season, we would be excited to show you all of this in person.  Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

I want a Hippopotamus for Christmas

Pringle is a young hippopotamus living in Lake Naivasha with his family. He lives with his mom, Hattie, and dad, Humphrey. 

Pringle also has an Aunt Helen and Uncle Hubert. Their son, Henry, is Pringle's age and they are best friends. Pringle's grandparents, Hilda and Hammond, live nearby as well, though they were displeased when Pringle was named, as they felt he should have a family name, such as Hammond the second.  

Pringle has other friends in the Lake as well, including Pete the great white pelican and his wife, Penelope. Pringle and Henry go to Lake Naivasha school, where they learn about ecosystems and the importance of environmental and wildlife conservation.  But what Pringle would really like to know is why is he different from all the other hippos, even his family?

But for all the esteem of the Lake Naivasha School, no one could answer Pringle's question.  In fact, they advised him to ask his parents, and so Pringle decided to do just that.

"Well son," Pringle's dad begins, "you know we often see humans on the lake.  They come here to watch us.  I know you learn about them at your school. We hope that they will continue to try to protect us from disappearing habitats and extinction.  But there is more to them than meets the eye."

Pringle is fascinated, and waits patiently and quietly to hear more of the story.

"You see, Pringle," Humphrey continues, "humans aren't like us.  They aren't sure they will be able to find food, so they carry it with them often."

Of course this idea is hard for Pringle to understand, because for him, the Lake provides everything he needs.

"Now I know that sounds odd, but it can be a good thing for us too." Pringle's dad explains, "sometimes they bring food with them onto the lake."

"But dad, the lake has food in it already! Why would anyone bring more food?" Pringle asks.

"Son, humans eat different food than we do, at least as far as I can make out." Humphrey answers, "but to get back to the story, Pringle, that is exactly how you got your name."

"I don't want to be named after human food, dad, that sounds awful!" Pringle exclaimed.  "And I don't want to be the only hippopotamus with a P name.  I am supposed to have an H name.  Grandpa and Grandma told me."

"Now, son, you interrupted the story.  Where were we? Ah yes, Pringles.  When your mom was pregnant with you, we saw a boat full of humans.  One of the humans was pregnant too, and she was holding a can that said Pringles.  Every time the water rippled, she would eat a handful of something out of the can.  But once your mother got closer to the boat to investigate, she startled the pregnant human who dropped the can.  Out floated these thin, curled crisps, which your mother absolutely had to try! She loved them and ate all she could. And later, when we picking out a name for you, she told me:  'I hope our baby is brave, Humphrey.  Brave enough to transcend borders; brave enough to show humans why we deserve a place here and why they should protect our home and our species. '"

Humphrey then tells Pringle, "and so I told your mom right then that I knew our baby would be just like that, because your mom was so brave to want to see the humans and learn more about them.  I said we should name you Pringle.  And your mom wanted to send you to the Lake Naivasha School, even though it is expensive and we have had to make sacrifices to be able to afford it.  But she wanted you to have the best education available for a hippo, so that you could do something great with your life."

"Wow." Pringle wishes he could think of a better response, but he is a little overwhelmed. "Can I ask Mom about this too?" He asks his dad.

"Of course, son," Humphrey answers.

Pringle thinks about it for a little while before asking Hattie. "Mom, I asked dad why I was named Pringle, and he told me about when you met the humans and sending me to school."

"Is that so honey?" Hattie answered. "And so what do you think about it?"

"Well, since I will be educated in conservation I would want to make a difference, make the world a better place for hippos. Is my name special enough to achieve that, do you think?"

"Pringle, your name is unique, but it is you that is special, dear." His mom tells him.

"Really? So you think I could do that?" He asks her.

"Pringle you can do anything you want darling, and if will always be proud of you." She answers.

"That's what I want to do, mom, but can I tell you something?" Pringle asks a little sheepishly.

"Of course, babe, what is it?" She tries to reassure him. 

"It's a little scary to think of doing it all by myself, Mom. Is that bad?" Pringle asks her.

"Maybe you won't have to sweetie, maybe you won't have to," Hattie mysteriously murmurs.

"You know what I wish for,  mom? A little sister, she could help me. We could become hippo ambassadors.  And she should have a P name, like me.  Maybe Priscilla? We could be unique together, and we would work with the humans to conserve our world."

"You know what, Pringle? You may just want to tell Santa about that wish, and see if he brings it for you" Hattie smiled, and hoped her current pregnancy wouldn't be too noticeable until Christmas...

Black Friday in Narok

Narok is the last city before you enter the Maasai Mara Wildlife Reserve in Kenya. But please don't think it is close to the park in actuality. It is a solid 2.5 hours on a washboard dirt road to get to the Mara from Narok.  We drove through Narok on our way to the park, of course, but we didn't stop. It was a crowded place, with ramshackle two story buildings lining the roadway. The buildings looked like they were from a movie set, and not real; they were made of cinderblock stacked with cement mix not more than 12 cubic feet, painted with bright colors.  Like a fake version of the old West. Trash was scattered everywhere, and goats, sheep and cattle were herded along the roadside.  

Personally I was glad we didn't stop, I hoped our destination would render Narok a faint driveby memory. It wasn't so much the poverty that I wished to avoid, but the disregard for the surrounding environs, the livestock that was lame or limping.  In other words, the things I hold dear were a luxury here, and not something people could afford to be concerned with. Naturally this threw into light the crux of the poaching war, for how can you stop poaching in a place like this?

And so what can you do in such a situation, but do your best to get through it until such a time as an idea or option presents itself.  But that is not exactly the story I want to focus on, so please allow me to continue.

We drove on our bumpy, bumpy way to the beautiful expanse that is the Maasai Mara, where we were enchanted for the following two full days.  It became easy to see the attraction, even addiction of safari, and when we drove out of the park that third day it was a quiet ride, leaving only the sounds of the truck in response to the rigors of the dirt route beneath us.

We cheered when we hit pavement again, and within the hour we arrived at a busy gas station in none other than Narok, gateway to the Mara.  The gas station was so busy that they had an attendant just to direct traffic to the overcrowded pumps, and as our able guide got out to take care of the fill up, our little truck succumbed to the masses of 'sales executives.'

This was a term we had gleaned from our aforementioned guide and driver, the one and only Fred.  While the truck's tank was tended to, all of us inside were tempted with Maasai blankets, beaded bracelets of every kind, completely inauthentic looking safari hats meant solely for the touristy-ist of the tourists.  

But by this stage in our travels, we were very wise.  Largely thanks to one of our tour members, the well prepared Kathy, we now knew that we could do so much more than haggle with these sales executives, we could barter.  Kathy, a vivacious gal from Houston, had learned from her hairdresser back home that bartering was the ticket when it came to local salespeople here in Kenya. And so she had packed her bags with American watches, t shirts and baseball caps for just such an opportunity.  Over the course of the week, we had all seen her in action and could attest to her successes.  However, as this was our last day and Kathy still had a select few remaining American goods for trade, her friend Karen jumped right in and began to bargain.  

Things came into the truck; things went out of the truck.  Goods changed hands, and one deal was even reversed when an American watch and T shirt were ultimately rejected as trade for a Maasai celebration blanket.  There were bracelets, safari hats traded for one another, and every one of the pens we had on us.

At the end, Kathy traded one man the windbreaker she was wearing for his touristy safari hat, and another man asked my husband if he would trade my sunglasses, and then he asked again for my sandals.

We ended up with a bamboo zebra print for our wall, and I kept my shoes and glasses. No money was exchanged at any point during the madness, by anyone if you can believe that.

As we finally made it out of that crazy gas station, Karen made the connection - it was Black Friday!  Somehow it was perfect, and we all laughed, remembering that it wasn't so different from Black Friday in the States, after all.