Swinging Bridges Generally... Y'Know... Swing

The cousin mutual admiration society continues.  

Wednesday, it was the physically active tour of Hunsrück. Not that I minded (I enjoyed it), of course, it just happened to be the hottest day in the region in years. At one point, I even checked the temperature in Terracina, where I will be spending the lion's share of my vacation. It was THE SAME TEMPERATURE!!! Holy sheep dip!

Lesson number one: if you get a chance to experience "Africa" hot temperatures before you actually go to the "Africa" hot place, take it. It's called "acclimatization".

One of the activities on this day of German adventure was to visit a hanging bridge near the town of Mörsdorf. It's not an old thing. Actually, it was built in 2015. And it can be found amongst fields of clover and barley--two kilometers away from the nearest town... on the hottest day of the year. Now...why I didn't quite make the connection between "hanging bridge" and a thing that most hanging bridges do--swing in a breeze and swing when many people of diverse sizes and walking cadences stroll and or clutch the sides in a fit of survival instinct times 2--I will never know. Call it a momentary lapse of reason. I think it finally dawned on me when vertigo set in as I saw some guy wires go slack. Were they supposed to do that? I don't think that's supposed to happen.... Oh well... (and this is where the German in me kicks in) everyone's doing it... I don't want to stand out like a sore thumb!  

Lesson number two: hanging bridges swing. They're supposed to do that. It's secure, despite the numerous signs saying "auf eigene Gefahr" (at your own risk).  But is a bridge supposed to dip that far down like that? But steel is pretty strong, right? Why are those children running?!? Stop it, damnit! Why are so many people walking toward me? Don't they know I have to get to the other side without falling into a canyon some 300-plus feet?!?

I made it. No problem. So did my niece, albeit with a skinned knee that was incurred before the trek onto the bridge. In fact, most of my cousins, including my 62-year-old cousin, made it across.  So,... No problem, right?

Right. And now we go to the Mosel Adventure Forest Mont Royal, for some "klettern" and some "schlitterbahn". Oh, goody.

I really am in the mood. That is until they put the harness on me, which squeezes my "Knirpse" like nobody's business. But it's all good. It's all for family fun. Except for the four people who stay behind smoking cigarettes, of course.

It was kind of a rush. In fact, we all went straight for the intermediate course. No problem, right? Right! The final step was the zip line across the grounds, and as I let loose, a mighty "Chachuca!" emerged from my lips. And for you playing at home, "chachuca" is a **ahem** colorful word that is the indigenous Costa Rican equivalent of that other "c" word that could start nuclear winter between a man and his female companion. It is also the word that we were encouraged to yell during a half-mile zip-line leg when I was there in 2013. Don't shoot the messenger!

Having conquered the medium grade course, I opted for a little lighter fare, namely the (drumroll please) BEGINNER'S COURSE! Yes, a mighty course all of a whopping 1.8 meters above ground level.  Never mind the fact that despite being open to all age ranges, it was undoubtedly created with 10-year-olds in mind.  I chugged along, like the little big man-train that could, until the obstacle that could not be crossed... And how the mighty had fallen (or was just hanging there by the ball-crushing harness--safety first, you know!). To the best of my ability I tried climbing back up, but opted for unhooking the carabiners holding my body in place, all the while holding a steel cable with my right hand--my BARE right hand. One... Two... Three.... Chachuca!!!! OWWWWWWWW..... And thus the big-ass broken blister was born.

And that was that. No more climbing. No more dreams of Everest and K2 in a day. But that was salved over by a wonderful family dinner in Traben-Trarbach at a place called Alte Zunftscheune--with original interiors and tools, old wine cellars that temporarily took the heat from my melting body with its natural coolness. It's a place for those looking to enjoy the Moselle valley and I highly recommend it for the atmosphere and the dish. I just hope you get a more friendly waitress than who we had available.

Happiness at 49 degrees 51'48" N 7 degrees 20'20" E

My niece and I have arrived in a small town in western Germany, Rhaunen, located in a beautiful hilly agricultural region called Hunsrück, and only a couple of miles away from Hahn airport, which is a major hub of the low-cost carrier Ryan Air.  Coming in, relying on my trusty Garmin Nüvi, I realize that it still seems a world away from the hustle and bustle of the rest of Germany. You just have to take it easy and NOT be in a hurry when driving these back roads. The practicality of calmness lends itself to both safety and being awestruck by how truly lovely and charming the landscape is.

Waking up in the morning after a family barbecue with my cousin, Manfred, and a portion of his large family (three daughters and several grandchildren), I catch a whiff of the cool morning air and recognize the absolute freshness and vitality that is also a hallmark of this region. Kurorte (spas) pepper the landscape, and in the current decade, the region has become one of the largest onshore wind farm regions and home to a new national park. The hills are dotted with houses whose walls and roofs are rich in slate tile. In fact, charming does a disservice to this awe-inspiring region.

So, why happiness? Why not! Speaking with Manfred yesterday, it all dawned on me what this elusive word "happiness" is all about. The man was absolutely the definition of vitality, underscoring his nearly 63 years of age. He came alive to see family coming from across the ocean, his dry wit was completely on point, but the sparkle in his eyes when interacting with his grandchildren was brighter than the mid-day sun.

During the course of the evening, he would explain about little things that, put together like a jigsaw puzzle, define happiness. It definitely cannot be defined as the absence of sadness or fear, as he also added a story about a recent bout of claustrophobia that arose with an injury to his shoulder. It was in recognizing that happiness is about quality, not quantity.

Manfred and his wife, Renate, have lived in the same flat for well over 40 years. It is small and organized in a way that, should one misplace one of the many things collected over their marriage, the time-space continuum could be permanently upset. But, as he explained, there is a reason for everything. A dear friend of the family, Erna, lives in the house that they actually purchased on the Mosel River. She lives there, he checks in on her (Erna is the widow of "Onkel" Willi, who was the closest friend of Manfred's father and my uncle, Johnny), and when the day comes that she is no longer with us, he and Renate will give up the flat and move to the Mosel and begin renovations there. 

Happiness is simplicity. Steve Jobs knew it. Happiness is having a plan, but recognizing that life happens. Happiness is quality of life, having family around and knowing that when time moves forward, and you see the children become young adults, you also recognize the need to step back and allow things to unfold in their lives, just as you saw them unfold in your own. As you see the same mistakes and missteps coming into clarity with the younger generation, you provide that warning, but also keep a hands-off approach,knowing that this is the most effective way to learn life's lessons. Manfred explained: "Look at Rhaunen. It's a small village. But here I have everything I need: we have bakeries, a grocery store, gas stations and butchers; and I can see hills and valleys, and take a nice long walk to be in nature. Birds sing, the sun comes up, the rain falls down. My beloved family is nearby. All is well here and it's really all I need."

Contrast this with the paternal side of my family and the talk about who's doing what and how well they're doing materially, and it becomes abundantly clear.

There are many things to learn yet. 

But for now, I will enjoy reconnecting with my older cousin, enjoy his dry wit and soak in the joie de vivre that oozes out of his pores. It's great to be alive. Simply alive.

Zombie Traveler

The day has arrived. At this moment, I'm sitting in a bulkhead seat of an Embraer 175, heading toward Montreal, where I will be transiting for the next flight to Frankfurt.

But, good God am I tired! The whole day was spent running last-minute errands and generally being in a tizzy because, Lord knows, something has to go wrong!

So, this is an entry that could clearly be filed under: How NOT to live life.

So, what are the steps to being sane and not sleep-deprived? Let's start from the top:

1. Make a checklist. ADD folks like me have a hard time doing this because there is always something that' showing to be thrown in at the last minute. And besides, we're not exactly known for our keen eyes for organization.

2. Under no circumstances should you lollygag when it comes to the last month before the trip. Do one thing for the trip each day that results in a completed and decisive action.

3. Drink absolutely no alcoholic beverages the entire day before the trip. This has nothing to do with hydration and well-being, but it does have everything to do with being on top of your game and not ending up a zombie trying to pack everything at 3:00 AM the day of your flight. Beer, wine, vodka, etc. only exacerbate and inflate the ADD issue. They also piss off your significant other who is trying to help you....

...not that I would know anything about that, mind you!

***

...and we are on the approach to land, so I'll interrupt this post and resume somewhere over the Atlantic--that is, unless the Xanax has taken effect.

***

Well... Here I am, approaching landing in Frankfurt, and here's the damage so far: a mild headache from air pressure, dehydration, some wine and the sleep deprivation I had on Thursday into Friday. But I was upgraded to Business Class. YES!

So here's another rule to travel by: whenever possible, buy a premium economy ticket. It may not guarantee an upgrade, but you'll stand a better chance of getting bumped up to Business Class if the flight is oversold in Economy. Either way, you will be more comfortable than if you did economy all the way.

***

...and now, it's July 17, I've had a night to sleep (and beer and wine to drink the night before), and the day is young. More to come!

Counting Down...

T-minus 6 days until I do what no American dare do: take a vacation that is so long, it would make a French citoyen green with envy. Five weeks. OK, maybe not envious, but there are plenty of friends and co-workers who tell me how jealous they are.  Guys, it's simple: save your vacation and don't give a damn what the boss might say. Nike put it best, and so simply: JUST DO IT!

But what led up to this? Well, the true inspiration for this blog, and a "who knows?" career path... if there's demand for it:  a dream of a 50th birthday celebration.  Come with me to the "way back" machine, to 2014.  I thought about what kind of vacation I'd like to take, and how. I thought about how cool it would be to simply rent a house and day trip in the region. I thought about the trip my partner, Anna, and I took to Provence in 2011, and how much more fulfilling it might have been to rent an ancient Provençal farmhouse and just drive around, or just be a part of village life. Call it an "Under the Tuscan Sun" daydream of sorts.

Anna, ever the practical person, said, "What about for your 50th birthday?" Oohh..... Bad move! That got my wheels turning. I just needed a little axle grease, but the wheels were definitely turning. Of course, it was just a fantasy, right? I mean, I could never in my life afford something so grandiose. I thought about castles and big old mansions sitting on the Mediterranean coast, with the warm sea waves lapping up against the pebble beach just outside of the garden walls. But, no, that could never happen,... right?

Fast forward to early February 2015: My college friend, Vivian, was staying with us for the purpose of celebrating mutual friends' 50th birthdays. We were talking and thinking about how both of us knew people who never made it to the half century mark. Vivian is also a cancer survivor, so 50 should be something to celebrate. I mentioned my far-fetched idea about renting a villa or castle and inviting all my friends and family to fly themselves over to the, as yet, undisclosed location, and they would have a place to stay all on my dime. Vivian, much to my surprise (she is quite the practical person) thought it was not only a fantastic idea, but a do-able idea and, damnit, we HAVE to do this! 

We?

"Yes. Dan and I can go halvsies with you and Anna."

So much for far-fetched fantasy. This shit's getting real now!

...and that's the teaser for now. This trip is based upon a foolish idea in my head. Another foolish idea in my head would be to parlay this one into a kind of "event whisperer" profession. I could serve as a consultant to help others make some foolish celebration idea become reality. But there are so many things to consider. And a decent chunk of this blog will cover the logistics, and struggle to find a location, decisions, decisions, decisions... and the frustration of this ADD guy to want to "get it all right" and please all parties involved, that it becomes a torturous research game with little progress until the moment of "Fuckitall! Time to make an executive decision."

But until the next entry, enjoy this little ditty.

Welcome Back, My Friends (To the Show That Never Ends--I Hope)!

First, an introduction: My name is Paul (or Paulie to those who are my closest friends), and I'm a chronic late bloomer with dash of ADD thrown in for spice. At this time, I'm on the downward slope of one career, and seeking my way into another adventure to start the next half-century of my earthly existence.

The idea for this blog has been bouncing around my cranial cavity for a while. It was originally supposed to be a travel blog, but there's more out there than you can shake a stick at. So, I decided to throw in some other passions of mine: urban agriculture, organic living, philosophy and diet and exercise (although I'm not an exercise fanatic, I do believe that the human body--and all living beings--has an inherent ability to heal itself, as long as the mind and emotions accommodate). I may also throw in some politics, but I hope that is a rare option, considering how divisive it can be.

So, this is about life and how to live it (and in some cases, how not to live it), ESPECIALLY if you feel like life is just beginning!

Like I said: I'm a chronic late bloomer. But if you're like me, you're tired of saying, "if I knew then, what I know now...."  So come and join me in the comfy, cozy, and slightly cluttered world of Planet Paulie!