Day Zero (Started a month ago, forgotten and finally finished)

Today I was finally attempting to bring some order to the literally, thousands of pictures I took during my month long backpacking adventure and it saddened me to realize how much I have actually already forgotten about my trip. In a way it seems that taking so many pictures makes remembering harder, taking a picture almost makes it acceptable to forget something, because you have it on an external storage somewhere. I have made no secret that visiting Mont San Michel in France was and still is my number 1 “bucket list” item, and many of you have heard the devastation upon realizing that somehow my pictures (numbering in the hundreds) from that day were accidently deleted and lost. Yet, somehow that has been a mixed blessing. I have about 4 pictures that I took with my small Nikon as I was walking away from the Mont, but none from the actual Mont itself. Yet, without even closing my eyes I can see the inclined cobbled road winding around the island to the abbey, I can touch the hidden side routes and isolated stairways that I discovered instead of joining the hordes of tourists past the souvenir shops. I can almost taste the salty air on my tongue and the feel the humidity on my exposed skin. With each breath I can feel the wetness of the interior of the abbey, the moisture seeping into my lungs as I explored the unlit passageways and closed rooms. I can see the green edging that formed around the abbey bricks, mold a result of the damp sea air and years of abandonment, the haziness of the light as is filtered in through the aged glass. Although, this post is not about Mont San Michel, but it will come; today I will start from the beginning of my travels from the train depot in Büchen.

I need to start by saying that planning my trip, was utterly exhausting- I was trying to juggle my finances, as well as availability of people and places- Staci and her husband were going to be in Paris for a few days near the start of my trip, then I wanted to visit a friend in southern Germany but she was busy the days  I had planned. None of the B&Bs near Mont San Michel had availability, the ones that did had no transportation from Ponterson. It was a nightmare. Finally, miraculously it all fell into place and I found myself over packed with a rollaway suitcase I borrowed from Cat cursing my cheapness because I hadn’t bought a backpacking-backpack.

On the day of my departure, Cat had come from work early in order to take me to the train station. Since I lived 45 minutes out of Hamburg I decided it was easier to take the regional train from Büchen to Hamburg, where I would have a two hour “layover” until my night train departed from Hamburg to Paris.

Cat and I arrived at the train station in Büchen only to realize that the train was running about 45 minutes behind schedule so we stood on the platform and talked to pass the time. She didn’t want to leave me waiting alone and I frankly was happy because I kept crying every so often. I wasn’t scared to be leaving, I’ve travelled alone before but I torn up because I knew the minute I boarded the Regional train to Hamburg I would cease to be an au pair. Stepping on the train signified the end of my “contract” and the beginning of my “fun travels” before I had to return “home”. Cat kept the situation light and kept reassuring me that I would only be gone for a few weeks before I got to see them again. The train finally rolled up and I tearily crossed the threshold only to realize that I had packed every possible item necessary for a month long travel except a coat.  I shouted that to Cat and she offered to run home and grab one since it would be about 15 minutes before the train departed, I declined and she came onto the train and sat down next me, allowing me to rest my head on her shoulder in the final 15 minutes as I choked back tears, again.

A chime from overhead signaled the train was about to depart and with one last hug Cat got off the train, tears in her eyes too as she waved from the platform and called to “text every once in awhile” to let them know I was “still alive”. As I felt the train rumbling beneath my feet, I clutched the handle of my rolly suitcase and waved goodbye to my friend as tears burned my eyes and my heart pounded frantically in my chest.

I sat down on the faded train seats and willed myself to look out the window as I attempted to memorize every detail about the small Büchen train station as if it would be the last time I would ever see it. Soon we were traveling through the lush German forest towards Hamburg, a trek I had many times before on my visits into the city.

My train to Paris was set to depart from Hamburg central station (Hofbahnhof- Hbf), the stop before my station was Berliner Tor. I was riding on a Regional train, and the final destination was Hbf, but I could have gotten off at Berliner Tor and taken the metro 1 stop to Hbf. As Berliner Tor approached I contemplated exiting the train and riding the metro (S-bahn) for one stop, but ultimately decided against it coming to the conclusion that it would be faster and safer to stay on the train for one more stop. How wrong I was. Immediately after the doors closed at Berliner Tor and the train took off for 10 seconds, instead of speeding up the train slowed to a stop and an announcement overhead informed us that there was essentially there was a “traffic pile up” at HamburgHbf and we would need to wait until some of the trains cleared the tracks. We ended up sitting in limbo for almost an hour.

Once at HamburgHbf I was supposed to meet up with my friend Kristina while I waited the departure of my night train; we could enjoy a nice dinner together before I left on my travels. Instead, because of the two delays with the train arriving in Büchen late and the pile up at Berliner Tor I had a mere 30 minutes to quickly say hello to her and grab some sustenance at Subway. Seriously, Subway. She also informed me she had a spare backpacking backpack she could have lent me if I had thought of asking her beforehand. We hugged and I waved goodbye and I ran aboard the train, after triple checking it was the correct one. I stood by the hallway window and we chatted for a few minutes before the train began slowing lurching out of the station.

I should mention that until that point, I had never taken an overnight train. My first time “suitcasing” in Europe I had been rightfully terrified by my mother of the horrors of overnight trains, but this second time around I was a skeptic to her fears. My allotted room had the appearance of a large sardine can, not even kidding. It was narrow to the point that if one stood in the center of the room, shoulders would bump each bed (mattress). There were three bunk beds on either side which were narrow mattresses with a shody railing to keep sleepers contained. The bunks were so close together that there was no room for sitting up on the bed, one had to either stand in the outer hallway or lay down on the mattress. I tried lying down, but found that in the cramped quarters I became nauseated as I was on the very top bunk where the movement was felt the most. I spent five hours pacing the hallway outside my room afraid to venture too far lest someone wander off with my precious belongings. Around midnight, when dark had finally fallen I decided it was time to try to get some sleep. I snuck back into my room with 5 snoring people and somehow miraculously climbed up to my bed where I strapped myself in, looping my backpack through my leg, strapping my purse across my arm and my passport in my travelers belt. I remember preferring to sleep facing the wall since I felt more protected, but I was afraid that the shoddy railing would fall off and I would plummet to my death to certain bodily harm that would effectively put my trip to an end. So, after tucking my shoes safely away in a corner of my room, I unbuttoned my jeans for more room, unclasped my bra and was rocked to sleep by the movement of the train.

Oh, before I forget, here is a doctored google maps that will give you all an idea of where I went. This post covers The (unmarked journery) from "I" to "A" and the night trip from "A" to "B". I'm sorry about boring your ears, err eyes off!My travels in 2012

Germany: Pasture


It’s amazing how time just seems to slip through one’s fingers like grains of sand. I can hardly believe that I have been back in Temecula  for just over 3 months and my time in Germany feels like a life time away. The details are becoming foggier, like that moment when one wakes up from a dream- the main idea is there but the details, the backgrounds become almost intangible.

Yesterday I was walking Brownie at night, and the weather was so crisp that breathing in almost burnt my lungs- the night sky so dark I almost felt I was back in Germany. I closed my eyes, turned my head up and if I concentrated on willing away the passing cars I could almost believe I was back in Bröthen, back in the middle of the forest admiring the blanket of stars uninterrupted by the glow of streetlights.

I am sometimes ashamed and sad that this journal didn’t pan out to the ideas that I had imagined for it, and I am the only one to blame for that. I could have made time to sit down and write, or reflect but there is no point in wondering about what could have been or what wasn’t. This journal was not really ever meant for the public eye, it was meant for myself.  And while I can argue that a detailed account of my time spent in Germany would better serve as a memory keeper, I also allow myself the indulgence of looking at my year and a half in Germany through a rose colored filter. I don’t need to remember the sleepless nights, or the isolation; I can chose to remember the love of a family who welcomed me into their home, who shared with me the joy (and trials) of raising two small children. I can chose to remember the dancing and singing in the kitchen while making dinner, the nights with take-out Turkish food while we caught up on our German television, the feel of being tired in a good way at the end of a long night of mopping until 1am where Cat and I collapsed onto the sofa and indulged in watching tv movies for 4 hours. Those are the things I want to take away with me, those are the events that made the year so memorable and make Germany such an important place for me.

I plan to write four (or five) more entries before the end of the year, detailing my month of travel and the week leading up to my departure. After the aforementioned entries have been written I will lay this journal to rest, closing the chapter of my growth and my time spent in my European life and my German self. I hope that by writing these last few entries I will be able to in a sense, merge my two identities—the person I was before I left, and the person I returned so that I can move on to the next step of my life and to whatever is in store for me.



I just need time to stop. I know  it can't go backwards and going forward is inevitable but for the moment I just need it to stop.

2 nights. That's all I have left in Germany.

I just need it to stop. Don't go forward, can't go back. Just stop. I can't think straight and don't know how to feel.

I want to move forward, but not back so for now I just need it to stop.

Not complaining, Just stating

I got to Salzburg, Austria today and I know I said I would post an itinerary but alas.. My trip is more than halfway over and while I don't want it to end.. I just have to say, I'm exhausted.

I just got to Austria today and still have 5 or 6 hours of daylight but all I want to do is take a nap and lie down. I spent over an hour pouring over maps and guidebooks so I hope that I have somewhat of a plan tomorrow... I hope to see the city tomorrow and then the day after maybe head up into the mountains becuase I hear they are beatiful.

Also I got a call from Sam and Maja yesterday who were out with Conny and needed help putting the stroller back in the car. I asked them to put Conny on the phone so I could talk to her and then while she didn't say anything back I was told she was smiling really big, after they told me that I started crying. It hurts so much to know that I won't be able to play with her or Clarissa everyday.

Ok, well time to go find some food.. and maybe come caffeine.


403 days and no fanfare

I fell guilty that I never truly sat down to document my experiences here in Germany, usually I just sat down with vague promises of  "I promise to update later"  but then.. ahh well, that's how I am sometimes I guess.

While I wanted this to be a sort of "au pair chronicles", it didn't turn out that way at all. Which, while not a bad thing is also not a great thing either. Some reasons pop into my mind when I think about why I didn't write as often as I had hoped one being that when I first arrived I was thrown into a world of chaos so to speak, which set the tone for the rest of the year. Yet, I could have found time for myself, I could have said "no" and gone upstairs. But instead I chose to hang out, hang around. Watch German television I couldn't understand and forgo late night skype calls with friends in California.

It isn't terrible that I didn't write more, after all I can probably count on one two hands the number of people who read this, and those people usually take the time to talk to me outside of this "blog". Still,I can't help but feel that in a way I missed an opportunity with this journal. I refrain from calling it a blog, since I don't feel I have written in a way that is accessible or welcoming for someone who just happened to stumble here without knowing me or my background story. Recently, I myself had stumbled across traveler blogs like Twenty-Something Travel, Where is Jenny, C'est Christine among others and I find myself beating my head becuase these people, these women are doing what I want to do. I'm not talking about wanting to be a professional blogger, I know that's a shot in the dark and not necessarily where my passions lie. But these girls are getting paid to travel the world. They are getting paid to do what most people have to spend money on. Not many people can say that they've lived abroad, or been an au pair- but I can. Somehow I feel like I should have put this time to better use than what I did with it.

Granted, in the end I still come out a different person. I am stronger, maybe wiser than I was before. I have learned to better accept myself and my shortcomings. I have had the opportunities to marvel at the first steps of a child, the first teeth, the contagious laughs. I have been there first hand a part of it.

I  have learned what it feels like to truly feel alone, how it feels to be thousands of miles away from any sort of familiarity and the complete feeling of isolation and desolation while standing alone in a forest that spreads miles and miles in each direction. I have seen death, in one year I went from never having experienced death besides that of loved pets to attending two funerals and having my own family member die. I coped, alone often times with tears, sometimes through the receiver of a cellphone but alone without the unspoken comfort of an embrace, a hug, a shoulder to cry on. I have been sick, I have been sad, I have been happy but for the most part I've done it alone.

I have seen friends move on with lives: marriages, buying homes, decorating future nurseries... I have often times felt myself stagnant, felt myself removed.. A quote from Siddartha by Herman Hesse comes to mind:

              Then he saw clearly that he was leading a strange life, the he was doing many things that were only a game,  
              the he was quite cheerful and sometimes experienced pleasures, but that real life was flowing past him and did
              not touch him.

I am sometimes conflicted, is what I am doing real life? Or is what is happening via facebook real life? I am hesitant to leave becuase the moment I step back into my old life, the old roles I will have to play again the more this time here will feel like a dream, like if this was a "play vacation" and now that I've had my fun I should return to school or get a "grown up job", be a duteous daughter, a productive member of society.

I am hesitant to leave becuase I know in doing so I leave a part of me behind. A part of me that will always be here in Germany. I will leave the me I was here, the me I can never be when I return to California becuase there is no room for that me to exist.

It pains me to leave, to leave "my" child. The little person that has become a part of me, the child who I would drop everything for. She must stay behind, and I must go.

I don't even know if what I'm writing makes sense, it all feels like ramble to me.

I leave on Monday for my travels. I'll be taking a month to travel through northern France, southern Germany, and Austria. I will post details as well as a travel agenda for anyone who wants to know where I am (in case I get kidnapped or something).

The sand is almost out, both literally and figuratively and so, tonight I must take my leave

[Edit: Thank goodness, I thought I lost this entire journal entry. I was writing it last night and hit post just as the internet cut out... I had only copied and pasted the first portion onto a word document and was so upset when I thought I had lost this post. Yay for LJ restoring the entire draft (this time).
Also, today I got my Eurail pass in the mail, it's finally making the trip seem more concrete and dare I say I am more excited (and really nervous) now that it feels "more real". I have some seat reservations to make and will return tomorrow with a complete itinerary for all of you to see.]

Travel: lake

A video and a public service

((ARGH!! LJ ate my post, try again -.-))

I don't even remember how I had started this, but I can tell you that if it wasn't funny it was at least amusing. Argh >.>


First and foremost, here is the "epic" video as promised from my Tropical Island vacation. I know it doesn't look like it, but I spent over two hours working on it for a grand total of 6 minutes of footage! Also, there may or may not be something wrong with some of the annotations/spotlights. Without giving too much away here are what the three spotlights in question are supposed to say:

Number 1: "Random bystander #1"
Number 2: "Büchen Hbf"
Number 3: "Random bystander #2"

There was in fact another interloper, but since they weren't caught on camera they didn't get a special spotlight :P

So, without further ado, here is the video

I hope that those who came to watch the video directly on my journal will take a few minutes to read what I have to share.

When I was in middle school my father, as a Physical Therapist had to renew his CPR certification license, my father brought me along to get my CPR certification as well. I was by far the youngest participant in the class, everyone else only taking the class becuase their jobs or licensure, I however threw myself into the class imagining life saving scenarios I would participate. Since that occasion I have renewed my certification twice more, although I accidentally let it expire in 2009 and have not since returned to take the class again.

I have kept telling myself that I need to take the class again, to refresh my knowledge as well as to add it to my resume. I have never had to use what I learned, and if someone asked me what the proper steps were to perform CPR I could recall the main idea, but maybe not the details (my last class was in 2003- I can however always tell when actors in tv/movies perform CPR incorrectly).

I've never had to use what I learned, until yesterday. Conny was eating her dinner while I was putting away dishes. Suddenly, I heard her make a sort of gasping or gurgling sound. I turned around casually to see her in her high chair, waving her arms in a panic while her face was shifting from bright red to an almost magenta color. Without thinking, I yanked her out of her seat, letting the tray clash to the ground. I took her in my arms and held my leg up, my thigh parallel to the ground. I put her face down on  my knee, head down and gave her back three solid whacks with my palm until the food dislodged itself. At first I was worried that there was still more lodged in her throat and she was still unable to breathe since she wasn't making any noise. I looked at her face and she looked at me intensely and then proceeded to take another bite of her hotdog.

The whole ordeal was over in less than three seconds, and it was not one of those moments where time slows down. I think I was more shaken by the event than she was, after I put her down on the ground to pick up the tray she squatted down and tried to eat the throw up bits from the ground.

It is a moment, that I thank my father for asking me to accompany him to the CPR class, thank him for sharing the stories of his youth that unfortunately had different endings; when my dad was young witnessed two friends die- one choked on an apple and the other drowned (my dad was actually the one who tried to pull his friend out of the water).

It is now that I take a moment to implore any and everyone who is in contact with children, or will be in contact with children, or even if you have no plans to ever be around kids to please take a CPR class. Knowledge is invaluable, this story could have had a scarier ending than what it did.

I know I may say  "that this was one of the scariest moments of my life" a lot, but, it truly was. Having the life of some being literally in your hands was utterly terrifying. I can be accused of being many things- loud, disorganized, even lazy but I am not unprepared and I do not cave under pressure.
Germany: Pasture

Been trying to write this for 3 weeks (Original title: Table Innuedos or: The Universe mocks me)

I wanted to write this last week on Sunday evening (after this happened)  or Monday morning when everything was still "fresh" but alas, the week got away from me and the next thing I know I'm going "wait, how is tomorrow Friday?" That was two days ago, it is now Saturday.. are we seeing my problem?

Anyways, I'm sure you all had a good laugh, or at least a head shake at my expense for last weeks antics. The weekend did get better, at least in the sense that there were no more incidents involving undigested food and small children.

On Sunday evening, we went to dinner with the neighbors (Margrit and Günther) they are an older German couple with children around the age of Cat and Christian. They don't have grandchildren of their own yet so Clarissa and Conny have become adopted grandchildren.

EDIT: Ok, that event I was trying to write about was literally three weekends ago, I have had this tab and this exact same window open since then with the hopes that I would get this written down. Anyways, I am at least going to write the main highlights of the evening.


We were all sitting around the table eating dinner, everyone was talking in German and I was listening in. These people have known me for a year and Margrit speaks a little little English, (more like she took 1 class and knows some basics) but Günther doesn't speak any, or at least hasn't let on that he does. They have however known me for a year and have sat through all of my German blunders.

In the past few months I have felt that my German has gotten exponentially better and have been able to converse quite efficient and fluidly with people. Günther owns an agriculture service and I took the opportunity to ask if I could take a ride on one of Günther's tractors since it's one of the "silly" items on my bucket list (the same list that has milk a cow, stand on a frozen lake and cut down own tree).

So, without thinking I blurted out "Günther, kann ich dein Trakor reiten?" (Can I ride in your tractor?)

To which, the entire table blurted out laughing. Not just laughing, but ROFLMAO laughing, side stitching, tears in eyes laughing. I sat there confused, aware I had made an error but not realizing what had exactly happened.

As the laughter started to subside, but not entirely die down. I kept looking at everyone waiting for an explanation. Someone then yelled "fahren!" (which means to drive) "Traktor fahren". Then the error of my ways suddenly clicked-

in German, the verb fahren (to drive) is used for all transport, such as 'you drive in a plane', 'you drive on a bike' etc. the verb reiten is only used in regards to horseback riding...

so, instead of asking to ride in his tractor, I asked Günther if I could ride on HIS tractor- in short a very very obvious sexual innuendo.

I don't think I blush easily since I'm usually fairly tan, but I literally felt my face turn red as the realization kicked in. I was mortified-- laughing and screaming "ewww noo gross!!" at the same time and then proceeded to cover my head with a napkin while everyone continued laughing, if not laughing with greater prowess becuase of my mortified expression.

For the rest of the night everyone kept referring to my comment and the table would break into periods of giggle fits while I fought with my food.

Food, this brings me to the second part of my evening.

We went to a traditional German restaurant, where they had a wide array of fish. I tried Skate*, which is essentially like a type of ray fish (you know sting ray) In a funny way of circumstance, I had only learned about Skate fish the night before in a random skype conversation with my friend from North Carolina.

Back to my story. Different countries and cultures have different rules for table etiquette, I believe that my parents did a good job, if not an excellent job in teaching my brother and I table manners. I think (without meaning to be arrogant) there are few peers that can eat as well as I can with proper utensils. Growing up in a Chilean household in the United States I've learned to make changes as the situations call for, in Chile it is extremely rude to have only one arm on the table, both arms are meant to be visible at all times (and like America, elbows on the table are a no no) yet in America it is standard to have one arm tucked on one's lap when one is eating. In Chilean cultures you cut your food with your knife, in your right hand and then switch to eat with your dominant hand (often times you can sneak a few bites with your left hand if you spear the food instead of scooping it up). In Germany, the two hand rule applies, but it is extremely rude to switch utensils back and forth between hands. The knife is held in the right hand, the fork on the left- always. I have been following the protocol best to my abilities, but my left hand is not as skilled as my right is in scooping food, so I would occasionally switch sides and spear the food with my left had.

At one point, I was having a little bit of trouble with some bones, so I quickly speared a few bits into my mouth when I felt eyes staring at me. Günther then took the fork from my hand and held it in the scooping form, I tried to explain in my broken language that I knew that was German protocol, but I grew up in a Chilean household in America and I was trying to adhere to standards, but I was so flustered that I tripped over my words and ended up sounding completely silly.

I don't know why, but having him point out my flaws in eating was ten times more embarrassing than my vocal blunder regarding the tractor. I know he was trying to be helpful, and Germans are anything but tactful but it made me feel very uncomfortable that he "criticized" my table ettiquete.

It really wasn't a big deal, no one but him said anything, or said anything if they saw something but it just made me feel more uncomfortable than anything else that happened that night, very strange indeed.


this past weekend I went away to Berlin to visit my friend Alyson! We went to Tropical Islands near Berlin, which is a giant dome (I have heard it was an old airplane hangar, but have yet to find a source for this information) that houses an indoor tropical island, complete with "sandy beaches" troipcal rainforests, water slides, etc. We stayed for the day even though the place is open year round 24 hours a day. People can either sleep on the beach or rent out tents or cabanas. I meant to work on a video I took yesteryday, but I spent the entire time writing this!

Now its almost 1 am, I have to get up in 6 hours so there is not time for video editing, or posting- sorry!

I hope you can one day find it in your hearts to forgive me, for now I offer you a picture of a marshmellow dog.

Part marshmellow, part dog, all squee :3

                                          (Isn't it soooo cute????)

*I just read the wikipedia page, and it makes me sad to learn that Skate are in danger of being overfished, if I had known that I would not have ordered it D:
Stamp: Mucha

Video Upload

Hi everyone, I still want to write about the conclusion of my week-- utterly embarrassing on my part but at least everyone in my vicinity had a good laugh, consolation right?
Anyways, I've meaning to upload this video for ever, but I had wanted to "spruce it up" first... and never got around to it. Finally I did yesterday, and I must admit, there really wasn't much to spruce up.. I could have uploaded it without the intro title or end credits. Ah well, I hope you guys enjoy my late video. The weather is much warmer now! Still brisk, but the days of long coats are far behind us.

I am going to fold some laundry now and when I finish hopefully Conny will still be asleep so I can do a quick write up!
Izma:rr angry

My week was a string of "One of those days"

Well, one can only go uphill from a day like Tuesday, right?  Uphill you know so you can plummet down an empty elevator shaft screaming to every known Diety in the universe... yeah just like that.

You all read the aforementioned blog post about the adventures of small country life in the big unknown?

Well here is a summary of the week thus far, it's just too crazy not to share.

Wednesday (the following day)- I was putting Conny down for a nap around 2. I was lying down on the bed with her on my tummy (her favorite sleeping position) when she half pushes herself off my stomach and projectile vomits on me. EVERYWHERE. It got all over me: on my shirt, my leggins, some even got in my bra (I didn't notice until later after I had showered it had gotten in my hair). Since I had already been thrown up on, I help her tight so that is she needed to throw up more she would get it on me and not on the carpet or clean blankets. She gave two or three good heaves and unloaded the entire contents of her day; we smelt like a mixture of sour milk, salami, and casserole. It was disgusting. Luckily I can control my gag reflex when it concerns matters with other people. I somehow always end up being the one holding someone's hair.

I bathe myself and Conny, and while I am toweling Conny off I myself am in a towel I hear Tony (the Dalmation mix) barking from the front yard. I look out the window to see him in the front yard barking at passing dogs. I frantically run downstairs, in a towel naked baby in tow while I open the front door and start yelling for Tony to come back from the front porch. All I needed was rollers in my hair and for a gust of wind to blow my towel off and show my fat butt to the entire village and I could have struck "comedy gold".

Thursday- Was "ehhh" until the evening and then it was really chaotic and stressful becuase Conny was being unbearable and crying. There was miscommunication involving a pizza. It was very complicated. ((Luckily today afternoon it got all sorted). I did however have a small shining moment in German class. My (Russian) German teacher asked the glass (all immigrants) if we knew what Satellit was. I immediately shouted out "SPUTNIK!!!" and almost gave the poor lady in heart attack:

She turned around and questioned me (German in a Russian accent is scarier than German itself) "What did you say?!"
I meekly answered "...Sputnik.." but this time I said it with a German accent so it came out more like "Schpuhtneek"

...and then she broke out in a huge smile "GENAU!" (exactly). I think she was very very surprised that the token American in the entire class of people who grew up in the former USSR knew what Sputnik was. Seriously, everyone is from Polland, or Lithuania, or Kazakstahn and speak Russian amongst themselves when German fails them.

Point 1 for American Public Education!

Friday- This day was the money day... the morning was uneventful..if you can count waking up at 6 am to watch a 16 month old than yes. Oh wait, I forgot. Conny entertained herself by destroying the photo collage I made her for her birthday. Somehow she managed to open up the frame and peel off half of the stickers and photos from it. I'm going to attempt to save it.

Around 2 Conny had some diarrhea. It was pretty bad, it got on her onesie and her tights so I decided the best solution was to give her a bath. I put her in the tub and hosed her down with the detachable shower arm. While I was washing Conny off she was screaming and trying to get away from me.I dropped the shower arm on the floor.

Normal showers work like this: usually you pull up on the handle and the shower turns on, pushing down turns off the water. Correct? Not this one!

I quickly slammed down on the handle to turn off the water and instead of turning the water off it shot full power at my face! I got immediately soaked like someone in a sitcom. My hair, my clothes, the ceiling and surrounding areas were drenched.

Later in the afternoon I took the dogs for a walk, for some silence. On the way home Chief was running off leash (normal practice for people in the countryside where there are no cars). I was walking a ways back and then I saw a black dog. not just A black dog, no THE black dog. These two dogs, Chief and the black one hate each other whenever we walk by that house Chied goes crazy and starts barking and vice versa.

The two dogs are going at it and I am too far to do anything. I am trying to keep a low voice and keep calling to Chief but the female owner of the other dog is just screaming and trying to the dogs with her leash to break them apart. I am trying to get closer, but everytime I do Tony starts going crazy and trying to bite the dog. There are two teenage spectators who are just looking and I'm yelling in my head "WHY IS NO ONE COMING TO TAKE MY DOG SO I CAN HELP CHIEF!!"

I was afraid of getting bit, but also I knew I had to separate the dogs. They were crazy and wild and there was blood everywhere. On the floor, the dogs were both covered in it. Finally I help Tony with my left hand and reached to the black dog with my right where my hand hooked on his collar. I tried pulling him off the Chief who was pinned under him but he still had his jaw locked around Chief's neck. FINALLY one of the teens came over to take Tony as I was calling to the lady to please take Chief so I could pull them apart (she didn't). I then just lodged my left hand in between the two dogs while saying a prayer I jammed my right leg between them and pushed. I was able to pull them apart enough that the lady finally grabbed her dog.

Afterwards my hands were shaking as I put the leash on Chief. I felt myself about to hyperventilate but I reeled myself in and just concentrated on getting the dogs home. My hands were covered in blood as (I later realized) my pants were too. I looked like I could have committed a murder.

I walked home as fast as I could in complete stoicism. I only knew I had to get home as fast as I could. When I got home, I went in through the side gate (during the fight I lost my keys and couldn’t find them later when I went back) and called Cat outside. I think my voice started to crack because she came out as fast as she could and she asked “What happened?” I lost it. I started crying and shaking. It was utterly terrifying. The fight seemed to go on forever and I felt so helpless.

After a thorough evaluation of Chief and Tony (who also had some bites from getting to close to the fight) and a phone call to the other dog owner it was established that all dogs were ok. Cat calmed me down—well really she told me to calm down and I forced myself to do it (being a Psychology major I know all the tricks). Cat says she herself has been caught in two dog fights with the same dog. No stitches were required what we think happened is the black dog must have got a cut I his mouth that bled all over Chief. Since Chief is mostly white, the entire thing looked worse than what it really was.

Still, it was terrifying and I don’t think I’ll be letting Chief off leash anytime soon.

And that has been my week so far, oh and did I mentioned I’ve been with the kids for the better part of the days and up at 6am every day? Because I sure have!

[Edit/Update] Friday just proceeded to get "bette"r in the evening, Clarissa ended up throwing up all evening and into the night which meant that Cat had to sleep with Clarissa to take care of her and I slept with Conny to take care of her (Christian is on a business trip in Russia). I got less than 5 hours of sleep only to be woken up at 7:30 by a cat yowling out Conny's window. That of course woke her up from a sound sleep thus dashing all hopes of sleeping in (even until 9 would have been fantastic and completely plausible since Conny didn't fall asleep until after 10:30. >.>

So, who wants to see what the rest of Saturday and Sunday can throw at me? I'm so exhausted I feel nauseous.

Izma:rr angry

It's just one of those days..

Yes a real entry is coming..soonish. I've had one open in Word Doc for a week and just have not had a moment to literally sit down. But I felt that I needed to record the events of today, becuase this is something no one will believe and I don't want to forget...

Collapse )
I'm sure more things happened, but those are the main points. It probably won't seem as funny to you, and while it wasn't funny for me.. it normally is, but today I was too stressed out to enjoy a laugh I wanted to write this down so I could go "oooh yeah that day!"