Saving Salzburg Just for Me

So cold! And we hadn't even left Vienna yet!

I've had a few posts written about our trip to Salzburg for a few days now.  I was determined to keep up with my resolution not to let these things get glossed over...but, honestly, no one wants to read that story in detail.  From the outside, our trip does not look pretty.  The weather in Salzburg was cold (frigid!) and rainy. Our hotel room, for lack of a better word, sucked.  John and I did a pretty terrible job of managing our days with the girls in mind and, as a consequence, we ended up carrying them a lot...too much...to the point that my body gave up and served me a cold-sweat, vomit-inducing migraine one night.  Audrey was getting over a pretty wicked cold and there were several points when we legitimately asked each other if we should just go home early.

See how that could start to sound ugly? I can't just lay that all out there in real time, because it makes our trip sound hellishly awful.  Don't get me wrong, this trip was challenging, but there were so many great things we got to see and do (even if it was through serendipitous circumstances...or muscle spasms from carrying 40 lb. babies)

So, let's leave the 'stinky poo poo circus' (as John has titled it) behind.

The hills are alive!!

It's probably important to note that the main reason we decided to travel to Salzburg was straight-up curiosity.  We are by nature country mice, so traveling to another city is really not terribly exciting for us...even if it is the birth place of Mozart and the filming location for The Sound of Music.  We were happily surprised to find that despite it's status as a tourist-fueled cheesy destination, at least the Old Town of Salzburg is charming in a way that surpasses criticism.  This is my kind of town--full of meandering alleyways, cobbled streets and charming old facades.  We spent probably close to two days doing nothing but wandering the streets, stopping occasionally for big pretzels, roasted chestnuts and punsch.  We even made it up the hill to the HohenSalzburg Fortress, which offers amazing views of this picturesque town and it's surrounding glorious hills. (They really do call to you--Audrey and Bailey stopped to frolic on the first hill we passed).

...it's what she does.

A trip into the Mirabell Gardens was also on the list.  On the outskirts of the Old Town area, these gorgeous manicured gardens gracing the lawn of the Mirabell Palace are where part of Maria and the Von Trapp kids' musical romp through Salzburg was filmed.  I'll admit to a little giddy satisfaction at being somewhere Julie Andrews had been. 

Other than that, it was really all playgrounds.  When traveling with kids, it is inevitable that things will take a little longer. (particularly when you're praying to God they will just keep walking and not ask to be picked up)  Kids stop to smell the roses...or yell at pigeons...or face down every swing like it's a challenge.  We did a lot of swinging in Salzburg.  If I were going to write a travel book, it'd be titled: Traveling the Schweighardt Way: A Tour of Europe's Playgrounds.

two words: Pack. Mules.

Since we were in Salzburg for four days, we did venture out of the city a bit...on a quest to visit the Hohenwerfen Castle...which also turned into a disaster involving wrong stops on the train and forced road marches for the girls...in the incredibly beautiful (and cold) countryside around Werfen...where we did not actually make it to the castle, but instead, stopped to count our losses at yet another playground. At least there was some most excellent swinging before we boarded a train back to Salzburg.

See!? We had fun!!

Overall, the trip was a bit of a dud, but there was some amazing food and some even more amazing train rides.  John got to sample wild boar filets for the first time and I got my fill of traditional Austrian home-cooking.  The girls are actually really well behaved when we go out to eat, so spending a few hours lingering over food and coffee is not uncommon for us.  Those evenings spent in cozy, boisterous restaurants were priceless.  As were the train rides to/from Salzburg and into the surrounding area.

When we originally left home, we witnessed the dramatic changes Fall can bring to the Vienna Woods.  The gold, orange and red hues were just lovely and the patchwork quilt of green, brown and earthy black fields along the route to Salzburg were breathtaking.  And despite missing out on a falcon show from the grounds of the Hohenwerfen Castle, the train rides there and back were beautiful and so enjoyable.  Despite everything--even though we had already seen some amazing scenery, nothing could possibly top our ride home to Vienna.

One of the worst photos ever taken from a train

Salzburg's first snowfall of the year had come the night before, bringing several inches of fluffy, white, perfect-for-packing snow.  The girls might have been ecstatic to be able to romp around in the stuff before we boarded our train home, but John and I were the giddy ones as we rolled through the snow-covered countryside on our ride back to Vienna.  It was the kind of thing neither eloquent words or a string of pictures could possibly do justice.  And while I am, by nature, a story teller full of too many words, John summed it up best in a line from Saving Private Ryan: when Captain Miller was asked to tell the story about his wife and the rosebushes and he replied: "No, that one I save just for me."

And that's where our journey home will stay.  It's almost how I feel about our entire trip to Salzburg--even the rough patches.  I wish you would've been there with us, my friends, to know the real hard-earned joy of our trip together and especially to be with us on that train as we sat and felt our hearts fill to bursting with the weight of snow-covered beauty. I'm just not capable of doing it justice.  So, I'm saving it for me.

And Now for an Actual Update

So, "normal", Viennese style, means we spent last week in the predictable routine of preschool, playgrounds, lazy afternoons and elated evenings spent in the company of the one-and-only: Papa.  He's kind of a celebrity around here.  Mostly, because he plays one hell of a game of make-believe and makes the best surprised faces when being given the same 'birthday present' five times in a row.

We like spending time all together.  Which is why we go kind of nuts on Fridays.  Audrey and John always stop for a celebratory chocolate croissant on the way to preschool and I let the girls pick out a treat on the way home.  We spend the afternoon making sure dinner is ready the millisecond John gets home so we can have our popcorn-and-movie-pajama-extravaganza.  This week we rented Madagascar 3 on iTunes...it was kind of a big deal.

I love the way weekend breakfasts turn into marathons of babies helping stir pancakes and covertly nipping bacon from the counter.  There's always some intense Mad-Hatter make-believe going on for the bulk of the morning and we really don't count on creeping out the door before the ungodly hour of noon.  This Saturday we took the girls to the Natural History Museum...mostly because we couldn't find wind of any pumpkin festivities to save our lives and because Bailey fleetingly mentioned missing her bear--her life-sized stuffed polar bear that the NHM is kind enough to keep on display for us.  So, we were off.  Because that's how we roll.  We also always let the girls pick out a figurine to take home from the museum and this time it was a pair of tigers; one Mama and a 'baby brother'. (What are those?) The girls are really into big cats at the moment and we're trying, for the life of us, to get them to realize they aren't all called lions.

Saturday night John was out late with some friends (and for the record, I'm actually very proud of him when he comes home past midnight.) so, of course, Bailey decided Sunday morning would be an excellent day to wake up at 5:30.  At least this meant we got to eat two breakfasts...and there were new tigers in the house to be diverted by until John was able to drag himself out of bed for some biscuits and gravy.  When Bailey and I popped down to the bakery and discovered our first real foggy day in Vienna, we booked it back home and dragged everyone back out for a long, leisurely walk around the first district...which of course culminated in hot chocolate at The Demel. It was really cool to see the sights I've become so familiar with in a different light...and it seems inevitable that we'll be seeing some big changes to the city in the next few months.  

The only Halloween decor I've spied so far...and yes, that's the actual name of our street.

For the moment, Fall is glorious; the leaves are turning yellow and falling to the ground in droves. The nip in the air is bringing out a dearth of fashionable outerwear that I'm finding much more appealing than the really odd summer fashions sported around here.  The chill means roasted chestnuts are now for sale at stands all around the city (these are surprisingly appealing to me--John finds them less than palatable).  There's just something about the warmth radiating from their bland, chewy meat that makes me love them.  Also, as you might have noticed by the twenty-something mentions so far, Sturm is on the menu at most any eating establishment...and even at some wurstel stands.  Sturm is a beverage, which in Austria (and some areas of Germany) heralds the arrival of Fall and harvest time.  It is a yeasty drink, typically with a low alcohol content which is decidedly NOT shelf stable, as it is still fermenting.  Bottles are sold without corks, because a plugged bottle, after an appropriate period of time, would explode.  I've even witnessed a grocery store clerk yell at a kid for doing something so dangerous as putting a bottle on a moving conveyor belt.  Slightly tangy and entirely delicious, this stuff is absolute gold.  I imagine the only way to drown my sorrows when Sturm's season is over will be in a steaming mug of Punsch.   

I know our days and weeks and months will likely blend into our ever-evolving concept of normal, but I'm genuinely excited to see the changes around us coming in the next several months.  Don't talk to me about February, though.  As far as that's concerned, I've told John a visit somewhere along the equator would be in his best interest if he doesn't want to see an increase in take-out food, laundry heaps and dramatic fits of depression from yours truly.  Don't talk to me about light therapy.  My heart is set on the beach.  Yes, if we're keeping with the Viennese tradition of welcoming seasons with alcohol, Pina Coladas in February sound perfect.  




Prost!

Loving Normal

This past week was so blessedly normal.  I remember those first few weeks we were in Vienna, trying to scramble for any sense of the word...sleep deprived and totally out of our element, stubbornly trying to carve out something we could cling to as familiar.  Six months later, I believe we might have finally arrived.  The girls are in a happily manageable amount of activities.  Taking care of the daily stuff around the apartment has become something of a routine.  Thanks to my overactive focus on chilling out when I was feeling like death, I've developed some incredibly chill daily habits...that are all helping me really live in the moment with my kids and focus on growing as a person.  This form of normal is an incredible gift.

That's not to say things are boring.  Ha. Never. But on the contrary, when the daily stresses in the life of a stay-at-home Mama are muted, it is possible to reach out of that often-times survival mode of living and actually focus on something bigger.  This week, The Big Guy has been pressing the concept of giving into my heart.  He does this a lot, but I felt He was clearing the way specifically for this idea.  It's something I've been turning over and over in my mind; what it means to give and how those doing the giving are actually receiving something much more precious in return.

This is all really an integral part of my overall goal of living simply and loving deeply.  Here in Vienna, God has revealed a lot about loving.  There are new people here to love; people who are openly needy and those who couldn't be socially further from the beggars in the street.  And even though we're thousands of miles away, our community in the Tri-Cities, my family and friends scattered all over the states (and beyond) are still deeply etched in my heart.  I'm asking every day for a revelation and slowly discovering new ways to love people from afar--ways to create a sense of community in which I'm often not even physically present. Deep down there somewhere, I know I'm supposed to give something to all of these people; they should be the recipients of love--some tangible, visible act of love from me (read: Him).

Imagine how overwhelming this is.  Good thing I've been meditating.   And I can rely on someone way more qualified than I am to pick up the slack.  In the grand scheme of things, this week has really been small potatoes.  But, I've got some grand dreams that I know God could work out if they turn out to be His plans too. 

In the mean time, I'm really just thankful.  I'm thankful to have some kind of challenging conviction--even if it seems vague and unattainable.  I'm thankful that at the core of my life I have an amazing little band of people who love each other ferociously...often to the point of inflicting physical pain. (Bailey, I'm talking to you.) We are so blessed to have been given this time when our main priorities are spending time together.  Some day, that will change--babies grow up.  But, I know we'll have Vienna to cling to for the rest of our lives.

That's why I'm blogging, my babies.  Your mama wants this gift of normalcy to extend to you too. Even though your sponge-like brains are hardly capable of carrying these memories into your adulthood, I don't want you to just know where we went and what we did.  I want you to know the feeling of it--the intense love and happiness.  And most of all, I want you to know your mama wasn't just content to sit back and say it was all enough. (Because God knows, it could be.)  Instead, I'm working at making myself better.  No matter what horrendous challenges or blissful joy are in my future, I hope I won't stop trying to be a better person until the day I die--when I show up in heaven, breath heaving, flopping sweat to tell the Big Guy: "Coach, I gave 'em all I got." 

Losing the Funk

You guys, I have been throwing a pity party of epic proportions for the last two weeks.  It is not the Willian way, this feeling sorry for myself. Sure, in the normal course of life I exclaim at random intervals that I feel horrible (because God knows, most of the time I’m not feeling on top of my game), but it ain’t all bad.  I’ve got a pretty good system worked out for making sure I’m feeling well enough to take care of my kids and just generally love my life.  But the two weeks I spent throwing that all to the wind?  The aftermath has been brutal in my little happy Willian world.  So, I’ve been moaning and complaining a lot. 

A LOT.

This was the most pathetic-looking picture I could find

I’ve had the same quote from the movie Joe Versus the Volcano going through my head all week…as only Mr. Waturi could deliver: “ So what! Do you think I feel good? Nobody feels good. After childhood, it's a fact of life... I feel rotten!”  And you know what?  It’s not pessimism, but I really do believe that.  I think if I ever put in the herculean effort it would take to make sure my body felt like it was operating at it's peak on a daily basis…my life would be wasted.  For some reason, though, it seems that's exactly what I’ve been trying to attempt.  I'm done, though.  For the moment, good enough shall be good enough.  

I’m not going to bore you with my unending list of complaints (John could list them by memory), but I did find it charming that all of this bellyaching led to a really interesting discovery.  Something I’m now referring to as acute culture shock or: the build-up of emotion caused by the subtle underlying feeling that one does not belong where they are living.  I may be able to change a lot of my lifestyle choices, but the kicker with this one is: it’s totally unavoidable.  We live in a foreign country.  Most days we can make it around the corner on the street before the fact hits home, but sometimes it’s staring at me from the bowels of my dishwasher: what the hell is the “special salt” compartment for and what will happen if I keep forgetting to google it? The concept of assimilating to the culture right now is laughable.  Absolutely obscene.  I’ve heard some people say that after seven years it starts to feel normal. (And yes, they’ve all independently said: seven.) But until then it’s all acute culture shock…like figuring out which side of your dirndl to tie the bow on.

So, I have declared: I'm done!  I'm done feeling rotten, which means I'm going to choose to be happy whether I wish I were lying on the floor moaning like a beached whale or not (preferably not)...and I'm done with the subtitles of culture shock--done caring whether the people I encounter accept me into their culture.  I'm here and it's where I'm supposed to be. I'll find peace in that.  

In the mean time, I've discovered a newfound appreciation for the beauty around me.  The funk is gone--the Willian is back! And it's a good thing too, because while I was busy being an absolute mope my Audrey girl was turning out some rockstar behavior.  

So proud of this big girl

For some reason the transition back to school for Audrey after our family visit just went phenomenally. She has come. out. of. her. shell.  She's talking with other kids--making FRIENDS!!  She's been pushing kids on the swings and going down enormous slides, holding hands and stroking other people's hair.  She's being a kid at school--something I doubted would ever really happen.  Her teachers have been so animated every day when I pick her up to go home.  They know my Audrey and they know what an enormous breakthrough this is.  But you should've felt the joy on Friday afternoon when I found out Audrey had been declared Super Star of the Week. (This is actually merit based, so I'm counting it as a big deal).  Audrey was just beaming, her teachers were cheering her on and I could feel my heart trying to leap out of my chest.  

She's doing it!  Four years--FOUR YEARS we have been trying to find some balance of social activity in which this girl will feel empowered enough to be herself.  WOW.  Parenting high.  Consider my melancholy attitude adjusted.  

Even though she'd been doing really well in school, we knew the Audrey girl was starting to feel a bit under the weather, so we took it fairly easy this weekend.  That doesn't mean we didn't have fun, though.  John's coworker, Carrie, hosted an absolutely fantastic Oktoberfest party that we went all-out for, suiting up in some traditional Trachtenware.  The girls were heart-meltingly cute.  Considering the combination of their little European faces and the frequency with which the Do-Re-Mi song is belted out around here, I think they'll experience much less trouble assimilating to the culture than their mother.

After all our merrymaking Saturday night, the rest of the weekend was gloriously lazy--snuggles and tea parties and coffee breaks abounded.

It's nice to be back on the Willian side of things where life is peachy.  Really, I'm just glad to have my blessings back in focus again.  

Family Visit Cliff Notes? Not a Chance.

Happy Monday, everyone!  We’ve been busy this week.  Busy recovering from our houseful of company (think mountains of laundry and lots of quality time just sitting around loving each other) and we’ve also all been a bit under the weather.  It may be strange, but I almost like having sick days; they mean lazy days filled with snuggles and movies.  But, aside from our many different degrees of recovery, I’ve also been writing.  I usually have a tendency to just live in the moment and ignore the blog when our little family is having crazy fantastic experiences (think: birthdays and basically every family trip…ever).  These things tend to get glossed over or just skipped in entirety when, sadly, they are the events I want my girls to have some actual account of.  So, I’m trying to do a better job.  I’ve written up this latest family visit in great detail and have backdated the posts to reflect the corresponding dates.  I don’t actually expect everyone who reads this blog to be interested in the minute details of my family’s visit, but I do want my girls to be able to read about it when they’re older.  So, if you’re bored at work or perhaps trying to stay awake while feeding a baby at 3am…these are for you.  Otherwise, I’ll try to post some kind of cliff notes photo album in the near future that somehow manages to make it in under 300 pictures.  Cheers!

For My Girls...Because Sometimes it Hurts to Love Fiercely

Dear Audrey and Bailey,

Our fantastic visit with family is ending.  We’ve spent the past two weeks showing off our new home, our new city and our new country.  We’ve been all over the crowded city, in the woods, up and back down mountains and across lakes.  We’ve ridden big trains, little trains, trams, flying gondolas, busses and boats.  These two weeks have been a gift—one that we’ve slowly unwrapped through hugs and kisses, violent wake-up calls and sweet sleepy snuggles.  We’ve bickered and bantered and laughed hysterically until we cried.  This, my sweet girls is what it’s about--loving people to smithereens.  And you’ve been at the center of it all.  

We might be living in the big city--one known particularly for it’s elegant architecture, music, art and café scene, but you have made it yours these past months.  You’ve created Audrey and Bailey’s Vienna and for now that’s my favorite place to be—where we’re carving out a little slice of sunshine in a crowded and often cold-hearted place.  And not only have you made it yours, but you’ve shared it beautifully.  You’ve shown your family this city through your eyes and it’s an amazing thing…even though it sometimes involves screaming or falling asleep, drooling on someone’s shoulder.

 I am so proud of you…for being yourselves—for loving as only the two of you can. You are incredible girls and it makes my heart swell to let others see just how amazing you are.  

Now we’re getting to the bitter sweetness; the last moments when everyone knows something cherished and precious is coming to an end.  But this will be a gift too.  We love fiercely because we know our loving spans oceans.  We shed tears, not knowing the next time we’ll all be together, but look forward to the dreams of family holidays to come.  We’ve made memories enough to feed our souls until then…at least that’s how we can stand to bridge the gaps.  

It hurts, to tell the truth, knowing how difficult this is for you girls.  You both love so hard in totally different ways and losing this sweet-family-comfort hurts.  How could you possibly understand when it’s impossible for me to explain?  You’ve got to live the love to know it, dearies.  Just know I was there all along—to encourage you when you were shy, to reign you in when loving crossed the border into hysterics.  I was watching every day as you formed deeper bonds with everyone here.  And I’ll  still be here when you’re struggling to wrap your hurt feelings around the sudden emptiness.  I’ll be the one trying to fill it up with as much loving as I can muster.  

At the end of the day that’s all I’ve got for you two: every ounce of love I can squeeze from my own heart.  It’s yours.

Love, Mama GiGi

Our Last Day; Revealing a Gift

Monday was it—the last day.  There were a lot of emotions involved.  Most of all, we were worried for the girls.  The transition to having oodles of family arrive was one thing—a very joyous thing.  Having the entire gang suddenly leave the next morning was something we wanted to handle in the best way possible.  Like everything else in parenting, there was a very delicate balance to this.  Audrey, in particular, has formed a very strong bond with her Emma.  From the outside, it's nothing overt, but more in the way she always wants to be at her side, holding hands, sitting next to her on the train or being picked up by her Aunt when her legs got too tired.  Emily also was bunking in the same bed as Audrey this visit and I think the comfort of waking up to find her there in the night was a really big thing for my sweet Audrey girl.  It was something that brought both John and I to tears during this visit, how much affection our shy girl was showing.  An outsider would never be able to tell how absolutely fierce and vulnerable this girl is with her love. 

Much like the great consideration we took with informing the girls of their family’s arrival, a lot of thought went into how to tell the girls this was their last day with family.  We came at it from a place of joy, asking the girls where they wanted to take everyone on their last day and of course, we ended up at the park (Audrey’s choice) and a trip to Bailey’s river (also known by some people as the Danube).  Surprisingly, in all our bumming around town, we hadn’t yet made it east of the river, where the Danube Island, the UN complex and Donau Park are.  So, this morning we took the same route Audrey and John take every day to work/school.  Only, we hopped off the train one stop early to walk along the bridge over part of the Danube, where there was much exclamation about fish from The Bear.  Eventually, we made it back on the train and took the long walk through Donau City to Donau Park.  This place really is massive and the playground is just far enough in that the girls predictably break down in the same place every time wondering: “When are we getting to the playground?!?!  It’s taking soooo loooooong!”. 

Yet, they are always more than satisfied with the incredible play structures once we eventually make it to our destination.  Today was one of my favorite visits to this park—and not just because some of my favorite people were with me, but Audrey was just so much more engaged than usual.  My girl was climbing up ladders, across bridges and balance beams and went down so many slides I couldn’t possibly count.  It was just such a lovely day at the park—the stuff of dreams.  And after all that—all the playing and running and climbing and gawking at the ducks in the pond, we headed back towards the city center for one last cup of cocoa together. 

Something else chocolatey delicious from The Demel

As far as every cup of hot chocolate I’ve had in my life goes, The Demel trumps them all.  And I can’t imagine what it’s like to have had it and then be forced to adjourn to a land where there is only inferior cocoa.  For details on that, feel free to contact my mother…all the same, there was no way we were passing up the opportunity to have just one more cup before everyone had to go home.  This time we did NOT have my favorite waitress—far from it—but if anything can be forgiven a person, then it’s most likely to happen while at The Demel.  So, we had our hot chocolate and cake too before finally heading home for the day. 

Dinner at Wieden Brau

Since the house elves I had requested for my family’s visit never arrived, we decided to eat out that last night.  No one should be worried about doing the dishes when there are sweet snuggles to be savored.  So, we headed across the street to Wieden Brau where we had possibly the best service we’ve experienced yet in Vienna.  Our waiter actually checked in after we got our food to make sure everything was fine and John was asked for the first time here if he’d like another beer…and shock of all shocks, the answer was no.  All and all, an excellent way to round out any visit to this fine city. 

We reluctantly headed home where there were suitcases to be packed and tickle fights to be had.  Even though I had promised Audrey a hundred times that I would wake her up before everyone left, she made me promise at least ten more times…and then made sure Emma would hold me responsible for it.  Even though we’d be waking the girls at an obscene hour, we still found ourselves reluctant to let them go to bed too soon.  There were lots of hugs and kisses and hilarious self portraits, but eventually it was time—time for the littles to go to bed and time for me to start making sandwiches for everyone to take with them...because if there’s one thing I know it’s that I will be trying to make sure perfectly healthy people don’t starve to death until my dying day.

We woke up early the next morning.  Too early.  But there was coffee to be made.  And I had to make sure Audrey had at least 45 minutes to adjust to being awake and saying goodbye.  It all happened so quickly…and so sleepily.  One minute they were all there and the next there was a cab on the street…they were out the door and we were leaning out the window, waving and wiping tears from our eyes as the taxi vanished around the corner.  And then there was silence. 

At first it was almost crushing.  But you know what?  We were still there.  In the silence there was still that precious thing that had been growing and forming into something beloved.  We have each other.  And we all know who’s at the center of us—He was holding us there…just as He was holding everyone in that cab on the way to the airport.  He holds our hearts together, like we never would be able to ourselves…now my soul whispers: Thank you. 

What a gift.  It took two whole weeks to unwrap and it’ll last the rest of our lives.