6 Months Out

It's been six months since I left Germany, and it's crazy to realize that I still think about my family and my life there on a daily basis. Sometimes it's just remembering evenings watching The Voice of Germany, or long walks with the dogs, or a conversation over dinner. And sometimes it's a wave of regrets for things said and done and not. Living in Germany for a year, walking in Ireland, these were just one small part of what my life will be, but their impact is ongoing. I changed in that year so much. And there wasn't anything bad enough, not even how I've left things with my first family, to make me regret the experience.

So thank you.

Wrapping Up

So I went home, for a few weeks, got back to Germany and got really sick, the family went on vacation, I got a few good days with the kids, and all of the sudden I was packing again. My Au Pair experience is over.

There are so many things I'm still holding on to. So many good memories and so many mixed emotions. I don't really want to dwell on it anymore, so I think I'll just say this:

I loved being with my families. Both of them. My second family was completely wonderful. I don't think I can express to them how much I respect them individually and as a collective. I left in what felt like such a rush, personally racing towards something new, that I never did say it. I hope that some part of my appreciation for them existing translated through other actions and words. I always regret not saying a proper goodbye to someone you care for, and then realizing you might never see them again.

I've had a few weeks to really digest it all. And what keeps coming back to me is a funny comment or a great moment of inclusion or a night with the kids I'll treasure for always. I got a lot of those. More than I realized when I was trying to pack and train and re-plan Ireland.

Now I have my photos and journals, and in 10 years I can really look back and evaluate the process, but for now... I don't think I will. It's all still too fresh for me to be objective.

And that's it really.

Even thought this blog is called "The Rocky Road to Dublin" I think I'm done. If you want to hear about Ireland you can call me or write me or send a telegram (I've always wanted to receive a telegram). But for the general purpose of adding something to the Interwebs... that's really all you need to know.

Signing off,
Ellbow

The Days I Really Love

The best days are the ones that end with me and the kids at home alone. We lounge around the living room, talking over a program none of us is watching, eating food that we like and is generally healthy but will never be Instagram worthy. We are relaxed and unstressed and not worried about phones or emails, just sharing space and enjoying living together.

I don't get a lot of these nights, but the dozen or so I have all rank as highlights of the Au Pair experience.

So tonight, putting Luke to bed in our first actual tucking in experience, I was happy enough with this job to forget to remember that I leave in four weeks (for almost 34 minutes). Dublin is coming. And if every night had been like this, the best part of being a substitute parent, being needed, I don't think I would want to get on that plane.

No matter the mixed bag this year has been, I'm genuinely going to miss these kids and the quiet, normal times they let me spend with them.

Fasching

So there's a festival in SE Germany in the late winter (it started today) called Fasching. School is out, everyone is dressed in over the top costumes (very few of which are traditional), and there's a marching band that's been playing up and down the streets of my small little suburb since 5 am.

I'm still very unclear what it is they are actually celebrating, but any party that starts at 5 am one Thursday, lasts for an entire week, involves me eventually dressing up as Princess Leia and includes copious drinking for days on end can't be all that bad. Right?

Don't Say Anything

I've been learning over the last few weeks that one of the hardest things to do in life is to walk away from a situation without saying another word. It feels like an admittance of guilt or defeat. It feels wrong. And I'm still trying to remind myself daily that walking away is respectful, level headed and the right thing to do. Even when it doesn't feel that way after three weeks.

On New Years day I ventured over to Munich again and I contacted my first family to see if I could bring by or drop off some presents for the boys. I've never felt good about how I left it with the family, but leaving Jay and Lee when they had no experience with Au Pair's and my leaving was rather unplanned really raked me. I felt and feel it's important that those boys know I was there for them, I genuinely cared.

What I got in response was a message saying they were "surprised" to hear from me, a friend had forwarded "disappointing comments" and they didn't feel the need to continue the "contact". (Forgive the weird one word quotes, but those were key words that stood out to me).

I grappled with this for about a day, talked to both my parents and some friends, and heard from everyone that the best thing to do is just to let that bridge burn and make no response. But even now, three weeks later, I still think about it at least once a day.

Not saying anything--not even an "Ok" or "I can respect that" or "I hope you'll read the whole blog one day and not just comments"--it feels wrong. I want to argue my point and have an outlet to a) apologize as they clearly feel that comments made in this blog are bad enough to warrant never wanting any form of contact with someone who lived in their house for three months and b) ask them to take some time to see the whole picture one day.

I re-read and copy edited the whole blog in the days following that message. What I read over and over were posts where I had been really hopeful that a not-as-great-as-I-thought-it-was-going-to-be situation would be amicably resolved. That I would find a way to be really happy with adults and kids who are so different from myself. I was really trying in those first two months to balance my responsibilities to school, myself and the family, and I felt personally responsible that things weren't working out.

The second thing that struck me was how happy I am here. I feel really lucky to be with a family now who gets me and puts effort into a two-way relationship. Just today there were conversations about career path and education and thesising, and watching Star Wars with my 10 year old and totally nerding out over it together, and my 15 year old baked great bread for tomorrow, and I cuddled on the couch with a dog, and I was given the time and space to take a 4 hour nap because I needed some sleep after horse back riding, and oh yeah, I went horse back riding, and I've read around 200 pages from three different books today. And it's all okay. No one's upset that I'm doing things I enjoy. I'm appreciated for the individual I am. And I appreciate my family for being the amazing people they are.

I think there's an argument to be made that I'm just a better fit with this family. But I think the argument that also gets left out of the picture on all of the Au Pair and Au Pair Mom websites that I've seen is that this family is a better fit with me.

I just wish there were a way of expressing that not-upset, not-angry, I hope your life goes well attitude to the first family without being disrespectful in contacting them again.

Riding

I started riding again this week. Horses that is. A neighbor has a gelding and a back problem so she's letting me take him out for some exercise in exchange for some light maintenance (tack, mucking, grooming, etc.).

The boy's a doll, grumpy, opinionated and high energy. It was love at first he-really-doesn't-like-approaching-humans meeting. Grumpy old men are just my type (of horse).

I'm quickly learning that this is the most difficult challenge in learning German yet: adopting a hobby that is totally colloquial. I know none of the words. How to you get the horse to step forward? What's a hoof? A pick? A bridal? What is the German equivalent of "whoa"? There are so many different words that picking them up is slower than usual since I don't get to devote 20 minutes to practicing with one new piece of vocabulary, but hear 40 new words and phrases in a matter of minutes.

Adding to this is the fact that a) I haven't ridden in two years and b) I never had any dressage or English training, it was all for Western and trail riding. Add that to a horse who isn't supposed to be head reined, has lots of energy and I keep forgetting how to tell to stop... well I haven't fallen off yet.

I'm going back on Sunday for what should be a 4-5 hour ordeal. I'm thinking the big blank wall in front of me is going to need some diagrams and word lists so I can bulk up on the basics before then.

I really hope this is as good of an idea as I thought it was.

6 months today

It's hump day! And yes it is Sunday, not Wednesday. But it is also the half way point for me in this journey. I know for certain that I will be home on or before 6 months, 10 days from today and I left the US the same amount of time ago. It's been a crazy 6 months which I'm glad to have had, but I couldn't be happier that I'm half way home.

One of the biggest struggles in my commitment to be here for a year was knowing that I couldn't afford to go home for Christmas. Christmas in my family is huge, it's all about the people and the time and the food. I've never missed the 7 hour marathon that is Christmas Eve at Granny's until this year. And while some members of my family don't always like it so much, I love it.

I spent the month after Thanksgiving preparing myself for skipping Christmas this year while still trying to be a cheerful and energetic member of the family bringing Christmas cheer to the kids. I knew I wouldn't get a big family event with anyone and that the tree wouldn't get here until the 23rd. I was really struggling with it and feeling pretty home sick. But my host family came through as I never expected.

The kids and I talked about traditions and shared a lot of our culture, the mom, Ari, asked for CD's of my Christmas music which she put on at every opportunity, we all plotted out the perfect Christmas presents to get each other, holding secret pow-wows in the laundry room to get it just right.

On Christmas Eve (Heilige Abend) we went to Mass and I hummed along to Christmas carols (turns out trying to sing something like Silent Night in English while everyone else sings in German is not functional). The end of Mass marks the end of Advent and the beginning of Christmas. As the very last thing, instead of small talk everyone hugs and says "Frohe Weinachten!" for the first time.

Then we came home and the kids had to go upstairs as we got everything ready: dinner, presents, tree, everything. In Germany Santa Claus or Saint Nikolas comes on Saint Nikolas Tag (St. Nick Day, Dec. 6th) and Christ Kind (the Christ child) brings presents on Dec 24th. On getting back from Church there's supposed to be this big reveal of everything for the children so it's like the baby Jesus brought good food and presents and (a newly decorated) tree while you were out celebrating him. Since the kids are 10 and 15 it was more about getting everything perfect than having a Christkind surprise. We even put lit sparklers on the tree (Germans don't have smoke alarms or fire extinguishers in their houses, this is the most terrifying thing ever!).

Next came dinner: the traditional sausages and potato salad (it's not like the American stuff, it's so much better), Ari even went out of her way to buy turkey sausage for me. And after dinner I hid the pickle.

The pickle is a German tradition which we've always done at my house but the Germans didn't know anything about. We had talked about it a few days before and Ari and Mark had gone out shopping to buy a real German (glass) pickle for me to use on my tree from now on. Prim found the pickle so she had to play Santa and deliver the first round of gifts.

Most people don't know how much I love giving presents. My dad's big on the one gift Christmas since he hates shopping so I'm used to a small "haul" from Christmas and was completely prepared for getting my two gifts from home and watching everyone else open the presents I had lovingly ordered. What I wasn't prepared for was that my (host) family all went out and bought me presents. They had all chosen things I had talked about needing or wanting over the last 3 months and really put a lot of thought into my Christmas.

Every time I try to explain this it comes off sounding consumerist, but it wasn't about that at all. I had a wonderful Christmas because the people I was surrounded with went out of their way to listen to me and care about me. That's a kind of compassion we usually reserve for family and it's something I admire and respect in others. I felt really loved and valued this Christmas. I missed home and family. I missed playing silly games and having to eat with a kid on one leg, a dog starring you down and sitting on the living room floor because there are no more chairs. I missed being so excited about Christmas morning that I still woke up at 8 even though no one was getting there until 11. But I had people around me who adopted me and loved me when going home wasn't an option. I am beyond grateful for that.

There are a lot of times in the life of an Au Pair when you're frustrated or feeling abused because of cultural differences, living with a family you don't know to well, and the nature of the job. But I feel blessed to be with a family that wants me here and cares for me everyday.

Merry half-way-point!
Ellbow

Snow Ball Fights

I'm the last Au Pair in a line of five for my current family. The kids have had Au Pairs coming in and out of their lives for 3-4 years. They know that eventually I'm going to leave and as a defense mechanism they don't get too attached, especially the younger (Reason #37 why I will never have an Au Pair). But this disengagement from me makes it difficult to form a positive relationship. On the one hand I have to drag him on walk and force him to play games with me, and on the other hand while he's happy to avoid the special fun times, I'm around all day so he's perfectly comfortable being a grump at me.

Despite his best efforts there are some days he cannot resist enjoying spending time with me, like Dec 3 when we baked 60 sugar cookies that never made it to the neighbors. And last Saturday.

It finally snowed last Saturday. And for those of you in Portland saying I shouldn't complain you've had plenty of snow and cold: it's been under 0 degrees C here for weeks on end, never coming above the freezing point, and also refusing to snow. So when it started to snow on Saturday, the two of us at home alone for the whole day, we got unreasonably excited. We waited and waited for the accumulation to hit a sweet point and then we took both dogs for a snow ball fight walk.

It was amazingly enjoyable, and even if he returned to being a pre-teen the moment we got inside and he realized how wet and cold he was, we had one good day together.

My mom at this point of the story started wondering if I really was in a good place. My mom, like most people, is able to hear the negative louder than the positive. I've had two really good days with the kids in the last 2 weeks. When you're more used to removing yourself from the equation because they don't want you around at all, 2 days is a lot. 2 days means that things are looking up.

Thanksgiving

I missed Thanksgiving in the states, but thankfully my family here is just deranged enough to give into my pleas for an American holiday. I ended up cooking for days and having to complicate recipes because they don't have things like condensed soup, French's fried onions, and canned pumpkin puree here. But in the end we had a very lovely, all American (tasting), German Thanksgiving dinner for 16. We did have to do it on a Sunday because Thursday wasn't a holiday over here.

The typical Martha Stewart chef photo.

Prim found the combination of Pandora Christmas music and the screen saver of hot men very amusing.

It was also the first day of Advent

My reward: a visit from St. Nicholas

London Days 3, 4 and 5

Having spent the first two days only traveling through central London at night and primarily by tube I was over joyed to find that London was already well into Christmas-craze the last week of November.

A proper department store, selling some spirit

The main thoroughfare was well lit with huge decorations and even a functional snow globe set up around the fountain at Piccadilly Circus

On day 3 I took a nice walk through Kensington Gardens and Hide Park (angry-fist the repairs on the tube) which led me past several embassies and mansion-ettes that maybe 1% of the world could afford (a sign at the gate to the street told me that photos were not allowed, so you'll have to imagine Daddy Warbucks' mansion on a street between Notting Hill and Buckingham Palace). And then through the gorgeous parks which, being me, made me want to put on a Victorian gown, carry a parasol and had me singing "Thank Heaven for Little Girls".

On the far corner of Hyde Park I finally met up with some Hungarians and went exploring Winter Wonderland, the Christmas market that was trying to be a gussied up Oktoberfest. No but really. Nearly every stand had some Bavarian theme to it.

A talking moose head with Bavarian flags

A poorly labeled Tannenbaum

The Santa trash bin. No. But really.

What they actually were calling "Oktoberfest"

The haunted Christmas house

And the topping on the cake: an animated drunk Bavarian who sang and yelled at you in German

After a disappointing double loop around Winter Wonderland, we never did find the circus or zoo that the signs pointed to, we traipsed farther across London to the British Museum, home of the Rosetta Stone. Had I been in a more energetic mood the museum, crowded as it was, would have been great. As it was I was exhausted, uninterested in reading plaques, and only able to focus on the grandfather clock display and finding the Rosetta Stone.

Then I parted ways with my Hungarians, opting for a more touristy, less informational hop back and forth around the city center. I went to King's Cross...

How much fandom can I fit into one trip???

And then to Buckingham Palace...

And then to Big Ben...

And the London Eye

And then back across town again to watch the Doctor Who 50th. I won't annoy non-Whovians with too much detail, but please let me say: I thought the 50th was perfect, flawless save for the sad fact that Tennant is aging, I loved every moment and was so stressed and concerned for my Doctors, and I couldn't have made done John Hurt's Doctor better if I had made him my life's work. I just wish Billy had been there as Rose just a bit. Okay, moving on.

On day 4 I continued to not sleep and have no energy so I decided to take the day to go up to more touristy places like 221B Baker Street, home of Sherlock Holmes (where my camera battery promptly died; angry-fist the effects of cold on battery life)...

And then up to Notting Hill and along Portobello Road for a long afternoon of post card writing from a cafe. While up on Notting Hill (pro tip: the market is WAY better on Saturday and you just end up around tourists on Sunday) I went into a random bookshop that looked interesting. The layout seemed really familiar, like I'd seen it in a film or something. I went in looking for detailed travel books about Ireland and a copy of "The Dinosaur Who Pooped Christmas" but couldn't find what I was looking for. The women in the shop were very friendly and helpful and know their stock by heart and I was sorry not to buy anything. Then I stepped out of the door into a crowd of tourists taking pictures in front of the shop. I had naturally failed to realize that this was the book shop used in the film Notting Hill, but on the bright side they ordered the book I was looking for and I felt very important (and a little daft).

Sunday night I met up with a couchsurfing person and had one of those middle-of-the-road couchsurfing experiences. While the guy was not unkind or creepy, we clearly had nothing in common and I just wanted to get my butt back to my horrible hostel bed and sleep. He wanted to drink and sit in a bar that looks like the Vegas airport and ask me a series of questions that didn't really help us get to know one another. But that's one of the pit-falls of couchsurfing: you never know if you are a good friend match or not based on a couple of emails.

One cool thing was that we were out at the Cutty Sark which is this old British privateers ship they've moored into the promenade and you can walk all around it. It was pretty cool!

Monday was my last full day in London. I built on my experience of the last few days where walking around real neighborhoods had been really enjoyable, but tourist stops had been frazzling. So instead of really doing anything all day I just walked around the City of Westminster. Westminster is, yes, where the Abbey is, but it's also the area with the private parks and the fancy residences which all look exactly like Upstairs, Downstairs and 27A Wimpole Street. Walking around acting like a local, without the option to put in headphones, and not really trying to get any where was the best way to spend the last day. I fell in love with the city walking around these streets, and even living abroad, I've never loved any city accept for Portland. Loving Westminster is a big step for me.

In the evening I wrapped up a rather fanciful day by seeing the production of Les Mis at the Queen's Theatre. I went to see it because Carrie Hope Fletcher, who is a really cheerful youtuber, is in it. And I have to say, while seeing and then later meeting Carrie was wonderful, and the whole cast was absolutely fantastic (I don't think I've ever seen such a flawless execution in a stage production, ever), I still hate this opera. I just can't stand the plot lines and the repetitious themes and how much they try to squeeze into a 3 hour production. But if I concentrated on each scene individually, ignoring the overarching drawbacks, I really enjoyed the moments separately. The cast of #LesMisOfficial is really quite talented. And I say that having seen the original cast of Wicked.

After leaving the autograph-getting part of the night things moved quite quickly. I went to bed for 4 hours. Got up early. Caught the correct bus which was running 8 minutes later than google maps said it would be. Therefore missed my 5:10 am coach to the airport. Couldn't get on the 6 am coach because it was full and no one had bothered to forewarn us. Had to buy an additional ticket from another company to get to the airport on time. Had the flight delayed just enough so I got stressed that I would miss my non-refundable train back from the airport in Germany. Mis-read my booking schedule and ended up taking an unnecessary taxi to catch a non-existent train. Waited in the snow for 2 hours (at least Germany had the courtesy to snow for me). And 12 hours later got home. It essentially took me the same amount of time to fly to London as it would have been to DRIVE.

But overall, even being happy to be back in Germany, having slept horribly and over-paid for everything except food, I loved London. I think on the next trip I'll couchsurf and aim for a London Society trip: high tea, an evening opera show, quiet hours at the Tate, and more wandering about the City of Westminster.

More photos as the weather holds...

...and my brain doesn't ever stop singing "Feed the Birds" after walking past Marble Arch