Mein Eyes Have Seen

Guten Morgen! For the purpose of full disclosure and to incite just an ample amount of righteous jealousy amongst my family, friends and fans, I relay that I am tickling my Toshiba Portege ivories from a new perch; the cappuccino joint in the Munich airport which is quite inappropriately named the Piazzo Monaco. We are one world indeed! The late Prince Rainier would be so proud that his Kingdom reigns gloriously on in Munchen Terminal G.

While the Piazzo’s choco muffins may be dry as the Sahara, it’s good to know that there are some places left on our fair planet that put real, honest to goodness sucre and crème in their coffee drinks. Equal and soy milk be damned. I’m certain my beloved Mr. Q would agree. Mmm…mmm…God bless the (post-Weimar)Republic!

Jumping from bean consumption to my emotional state, I admit to being a bit weepy this morning as I touched down in Deutchland. You see, this little farmgirl has dreamed since she was a wee frauline of coming to the Rhineland one day and excitedly walking village to village, amongst those quaint little churches nestled in the mountains. Well, dream may be an understatement; actually looking at pictures of these villages no more than twice a day with intense pastoral longing might be more accurate. Today, on my way towards the Artic Circle, the EU Health Ministers Summit and the land of the northernmost Burger King on Earth, my girlhood longings became reality. Snow-capped mountains, gorgeous, antiquated vert plots of land and the beacon-like steeple of a model village worhsiphouse seen so many times in my worldy, wanderlust dreams came into crystal clear view upon airport approach. I’m getting downright misty just thinking about it now. I feel a sense of homecoming here and not just because all the older ladies scadding about look just like my Grammy Alice Gerber!

The cumulative effect of my journey across the pond thus far drives a disputive nail right into the theory that as we get older, we have less magical moments of discovery; you know, when eyes pop wide out of your head and life seems to stop cold for a moment so that all you can hear is the beating of your own heart and the anticipation of an entirely new experience? Most of my friends are far beyond these days with glee found in getting a ritzy thumbs-up from the home appraiser, cultivating a backyard garden and thinking of children to come. God bless ‘em! Me, I feel like my a-ha, life-expanding moments are only multiplying in the most glorious way, like a beautiful chorus’ collective voice rising higher and higher. These interludes are also requiring me to speak many, many more languages. I’m a very lucky woman. All of these dramatic professional and personal developments have me so overwhelmed at times, I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. So instead, I’m keeping my mind off of emoting and am instead chomping on Munchen’s version of the hotdog. Not exactly Oscar Meyer tasty. But, I must keep up my quest to consume questionable pork in every EU country, come what may.

The only thing negative I have to say about Germany thus far is the native children are a tad too energetic. I had a wonderkid next to me on my flight that jabbered in his native speak all the way from IAD to the land of the ‘72 Olympics (with the exception, of course, of the internationally-recognized phrase “playstation” which he uttered every 15 minutes.) Aye! Never have I been so inclined towards Kindsmord and glad to blast the in-flight collection of pop music courteously provided to us by the soundboard mixers of Starbucks. Bucks really is taking over the world one frap flavor and remastered Sinatra ditty at a time.

And speaking of the bean, I must get back to my cup of crème and mocha. But never fear. You have much to look forward to in this week’s roving reports from the Northern front, as I excitedly head to the land of the Vikings, reindeer and the midnight sun.

Auf Wiedersein Lieblings,

And to my Charlie B I say Mein herz schlägt nur für dich mein schatz der liebste!:kiss1:

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