Play on, Playa; or Solace Amongst the Propaganda

It's the final countdown. 

Except it isn't quite yet. 

Government orders? Check. 
 Pack out dates? Check. 
 Plane tickets? Plane tickets? Bueller? Anyone? 

No plane tickets yet. This is a little aggravating, since I did the paperwork in February for orders, got caught up in the government shutdown, waited patiently until May to get said orders, and I've done everything else I can possibly do. I'm just in the queue, waiting for tickets. And waiting. And tapping my foot. And trying not to freak out/scream/blow up someone's email/vent. You know, waiting. . . 

Patience, patience. . . not my finest quality. 

In the meanwhile, music has been soothing my soul. 

from Twelfth Night
Substitute "life" for "love," and you have me.

I don't have a lot of love for either of our two local AFN music stations---one plays top 40, and the other, country music. FYI: I'm allergic to 90% of country music---I grew up riding in the pickup truck, loving the dog, traveling via dirt and gravel country roads, and swimming in creeks---I don't need to relive it again in song. I prefer anything else. And it's the same with the same four or five top 40 songs played ad nauseum. I'm weary of today's music. Is this what my parents thought of music in the 70, 80s and 90s? I don't think so. 

Why? Because our music was better. Of course. 

I listen to the Cuban stations and try to practice listening in Spanish (for me, the hardest language skill) and I'm occasionally blown away by a piece of American music thrown in between "this day in history" (Communist propaganda) and more traditional Cuban music. It's the Whitney Houston and Air Supply and Michael Jackson that makes me laugh. As a result of spending long stretches of life between long travel days back to the States, an American song from the past, no matter how cheesy,  brightens my day. Nostalgia warms my curmudgeonly old heart. 

Recently our NPR in the morning was replaced by some conservative idiot who blames Obama for everything. (Would someone please tell him that Barry left office a while back?). It makes me angry. Even if it's a couple of miles from my door, over a big hill, dodging iguanas and kamikaze guinea fowl, I don't like to be mad when I'm driving. In its place I have found a station called El Taino out of Havana. Unlike the station I've listen to for 4 years that's out of Caimenera, this station has a top 10 list of songs en esapañol in heavy rotation. The propaganda is only news snippets, not folk songs with children singing about The Revolution and occasion mention of El Comandante Líder, the late Fidel Castro. I'm sure they love him there, too, but this station is about music. 

They play themed play lists. One recent day it was all about the beach and ocean.  Today's list include all things "suave" (smooth), which is more of an attitude and less of a physical description. I heard bands from Mexico, South and Central America. There are songs in English I've never heard---mostly from European bands. I love the variety of music in mostly Spanish, and my iPod's playlist has increased exponentially. 

Last week I was leaving work and  heard the unmistakable chords of the intro to "Hotel California." I don't care if you think the Eagles are cheesy, overrated, or even embarrassing---I love them because their music reminds me of my childhood, and because it's one of the most endearing and well-used nicknames (amongst many) for GTMO. "You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave"---truer words have never been spoken of life on a 45 square mile strip of land surrounded by a fence and a beach with rocks for sand. After the initial shock that I am in Hotel California and listening to Hotel California, I laughed and sang along---loudly.

I was a kid in the 70s and 80s, graduated high school 30 years ago this month, and attended the prom all four years. Purple Rain was the theme one year. A Morris Day and the Time cover band played another year. It was a great time for music for dancing, for singing, and for chillin'. After being a prom sponsor a couple of years ago, I have a newfound respect for any teacher who takes on that daunting endeavor, and I have since sworn to be a chaperone and help any future prom sponsors. This year's event was at the Bayview restaurant, which, if you can deal with the swarms of horrid, painful mosquitos, has a beautiful view of the Bay. 

I was more than happy to realize that I have, in some weird and small way, had an influence, albeit small one, on my students. We start many days with "song of the week" (SOTW) and I basically choose anything I want to hear (the Pixies, the Dead Milkmen, David Bowie, Lauryn Hill. . . the list goes on). This is the beauty of having your own classroom: you get to make the rules, and you get to choose the playlist. 

I make it work with themes, with characterization. We find literary and sound devices. Most importantly, we SING (with all apologies to anyone who has taught next door to me). The students' all time favorite SOTW is Earth, Wind, and Fire's "September." You would have to be a serious GTMO grouch to hate that song. 

So how did the prom end? With a set of songs, all from the set list of SOTW. I was ecstatic to dance with sweaty, goofy, and gahd dang lovable teenagers to "September,"  "Come on, Eileen," and watched in amazement as they sang Every. Single. Word. to Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody." That night I get in my car and my newly favorite station, 105.9 "El Taino" is playing hits from the 1980s. 

From their website (sorry for the auto-generated weird translation):

(And this, kids, is why you don't use Google Translate to help you with your Spanish homework---it sounds like this, but in Spanish. In other words, a little ridiculous). 

I love to go way, way back to the days of careless dancing (and not hobbling because I wore The Most Ridiculous Pair of High Heels for the second year in a row), moving like nobody's watching (and honestly, I'm PCSing, so I really don't care what anything thinks of my moves at this juncture of my GTMO stay), and singing off-key to "Take On Me," another SOTW that is meant to be annoying in its impossible high-notes in the chorus. 

What Fresh Hell is This; or, Boxes of Feelings

Teachers do this awful thing during our "down time," i.e. unpaid vacations scattered throughout the year.

(No, we do not get paid for the times your kids are not in school. Our districts just spread our paychecks out evenly over the school year, or, in most states, the entire year, so we don't go completely broke during those long vacation months).

So now that we have ascertained that it's MY unpaid time---I've decided to treat my unpaid self to a week of----wait for it!---cleaning like a madwoman.

And that's the other crazy thing we teachers do.  Are we lounging around, watching soap operas, baking, doing whatever people supposedly do who don't work? (don't worry, those of you who work as domestic gods and goddesses---I know all of these are ridiculous stereotypes and myths). At least in my case, I am doing all the deep cleaning I can't do during the school year because I'm spending (unpaid) hours after work and on weekends doing my job that I can't do because of 1001 meetings (or because---heaven forbid---I chose to spend time with my own family instead of work on some weekends). 

Not that I don't love my job. Please, please don't get that impression. Good grief---I've been at it since 1991, so yeah, there's something there.

I've been reminded SO MANY times this week of why I love teaching. More about that in a bit. . .

Here's the deal: I have this horrible habit during moves (13 times in 24 years) of throwing those things we don't want to deal with in a box and repacking them over and over and over and over again.

Some people eat their feelings. I don't eat my feelings; I pack them in a U-Haul or moving company box and throw them on a shelf in a closet or garage to deal with, well, never. And one box has become seven or eight boxes, and I HAVE to deal with those things because I don't want to leave them for my kids to deal with, once the eight boxes have become 10. Or 20. Or a whole basement.

I am a hoarder of feelings. 

In anticipation of move #14 to our second overseas location, I don't want to move SEVENTEEN freakin' THOUSAND lbs. of goods to a new house. I still can't believe that's what we brought with us. I want to have only things we want, we need, we love.

So Dorothy Parker, whom I adore and wish I had 1/10 of her wit, had a habit of saying, "What fresh hell can this be?" any time anyone came to her door. Over the years, this became, "What fresh hell is this?" For some reason, it's one of my favorite expressions, and I have said this ad nauseum while opening those boxes of feelings I've been avoiding for years. Spring break has been SO much fun. It's been a fun-fest of feelings and shredding. Because the best way to get rid of feelings is to shred them----it's become quite satisfying, actually, to hear the constant hum of my trusty old shredder. 

There is paperwork for the four houses we have bought and sold. Each house meant so much---the first house in Colorado, which was still one of my top two; the house in Washington, where we brought home a baby boy; the haunted house in Texas that made me decide to never, ever live in a house built in the 1940s ever again (the ghost had nothing to do with that, btw); the last Texas home where we brought home another baby boy and lived in the longest of any house we've lived (8 years). Some of those houses were bought hastily and were probably not the best fit for us; others cost us money to unload, and caused a little resentment that things didn't go as planned. Today we have chosen a life where we will probably not own another house for many, many years. So seeing the former life of home ownership spread before me has dredged up many feelings, and shredding all that paperwork has been a little bittersweet. 

There are mementos from my childhood. Do I need yearbooks and scrapbooks and autograph books and diaries from my childhood? I took hundreds (I'm starting to think thousands) of photographs, starting in middle school, and although I've managed to mail several of them to friends in the US, I am finding even more that I need to get in envelopes and give away. My children are not going to want school pictures of kids they don't recognize. And honestly----I don't even recognize some of the people in the pictures. I am at the point of NO guilt over throwing out some of these things. It's all beginning to feel like clutter, and it doesn't have that official context of mortgage paperwork that had me holding onto it for so many years. It's sentimental stuff, and I'm trying to be tougher about throwing out something that's been thrown in a box for 15 years and I haven't thought about since. 

Those are the easy things. The harder things are those associated with feelings of failure and shame: paperwork and letters and pictures from what started as a lovely relationship (or so I thought, at 16 years old) and ended as a rather nasty divorce at 22. If you haven't been through a divorce, then you don't know this fun little fact: you will carry your divorce papers with you for the rest of your life. You need them to buy or sell a house. The military asked for them several times when I was a military spouse, and again as I am a civilian working for the government. I honestly forget about that first marriage (as a friend calls it, it's my "starter marriage") until I have to gather them again for official government paperwork. Incidentally, I recently gave my starter marriage an annulment (long story, too boring for a blog) and I did shred that paperwork. I am not Catholic, and no offense if you are, but I think annulments are silly and pointless. And the ridiculous amount of paperwork it required was taking up way too much room in my boxes of feelings. 

The more difficult boxes have paperwork to remind me of times of financial hardships, of very stressful health issues, of friendships that just petered out for some strange reason or another. I don't know why, but I had people I thought would be in my life forever, and I see now our relationships have just dissolved. It's neither person's fault; it just happens. It's life. And like a set of divorce papers, those cards and letters and photographs are reminders of something that maybe I should have fought for (or maybe something I should have never tried to make work). Unlike divorce papers, they can go to the shredder. 

There are letters and cards from people I have loved who have died. What do you do with letters from your Granny, especially when they make you smile and laugh every time you re-read them? What about cards? If they don't have a note in them, do you throw them away? But just being able to touch my  father in law's handwriting again, and chuckle at the types of cards he chose for me---he knew my personality so well---keeps me from throwing them out. This is the guy who called me EVERY SINGLE WEEK for the entire year that my husband was deployed to S. Korea to check on me. His loss 15 years ago isn't any easier today, and I grieve every week for what my kids missed. Will they get to know him by reading his funny little sarcastic notes and postscripts on cards and letters? I hope so. Those I kept. 

my Granny Ann's chicken scratch---she was a dreamer, a cloud gazer,
 a lover of small animals and children, and believed in sending and receiving letters.
As a college student, if I went over a few weeks without sending her a letter,
I got a note reminding me that I should write her.
And I did---often.  

I really do suffer from hyper-sentimentality, if there is such a thing.

That being said----I have shredded EIGHT extra large black garbage bags full of materials. I feel like I'm doing some illegal operation for the mafia (or the government). And those eight boxes are now 2 bins, very neatly organized into materials I am keeping for legal (and yes, some sentimental) reasons, and one more box to go through. I feel so accomplished. That supersized box of extra large ziploc bags came in SO handy. I can see everything neatly organized, and seeing everything spread out gives me reasons to do a second and third sweep and get rid of even more. 

Coming back full circle to teaching---one thing I have never thrown out is the letters students have written me. 

Since my first year of teaching, students have given me Christmas cards or even thank you cards at the end of the year with wonderful little notes. 

Some notes are written with sloppy handwriting and bad spelling; others are in the student's very best print. Sometimes they have a photograph or even a piece of poetry the student has written for me. And other times there is no letter or card---it's just a piece of artwork done for me.

I will be honest---I can't picture the face of a few of the students, especially the ones from way back in the 1990s. 

But have you ever gotten a thank you note for doing your job or a piece of poetry written for you? It doesn't happen to me a lot---and I will be honest, it has happened very little since I have been here. I don't know why; maybe it's just this generation communicates almost exclusively electronically. I have several emails and facebook messages that have made me smile and thankful that I get to work with teenagers.

An email isn't the same as a hand written card, however. Getting something so personal, especially when I know how hard it is for so many teenagers to express themselves to adults, has made me hold on to these things. They were a labor of love, and something I will definitely keep. 

YOU'RE, Tyrone, YOU'RE. But the sentiment is appreciated
Wonder if he'd feel the same of me at 47? And don't worry, kid;
I've had administrators at the above-school level
who didn't know the difference
between your/you're, either.
Also, Tyrone is 34 years old today. Ouch.

This process has been somber, and in a lot of ways, it's created feelings of grief. I won't even go into some of the personal things I have found, but there are little things you throw in a box, and when you reach in and take them out, they can give you all sorts of feels. If they can be shared with someone else, I'm boxing them up and sending them on. If I no longer have a relationship with that person, they are being thrown out. If it's something that makes me feel regret, I try to throw it out, too. Why hold on to sadness?

Here's to a life that eventually contains no boxes of feelings, where everything can be unpacked and displayed, and with no boxes to shuffle from one house to another. It may not be completed over spring break, but I have a manageable project that won't have me hollering, "Oh what fresh hell is this!" every time I pull out another tidbit of my past from a messy, unorganized cardboard box.

We All Sail On; or, Closing Out the Year

December is a landmark month in many ways. 

December is a month of reflection on what I could have done better these past 12 months. How I could have handled situations (and people) with more grace, how I could have been more patient, less reactionary, more organized. Maybe the main question is, how could I more safely handle kitchen cutlery? Should I really cook ever again? 

I also think of ways I have accomplished goals and I'm proud of many things that have happened this past year. I managed to spend a month in Germany and traveled all over Europe, some of that trip with just my youngest son, and in countries where I didn't really speak any of the language. I got a lot of new stamps in my passport, and although I didn't always have my camera out, I have images indelibly stamped in my mind. Some I will carry in my heart and don't want to share---most of these involve my two boys, who are constantly growing and changing. I sometimes find myself startled at photographs from just a few months back. I selfishly want to keep these memories for myself, because time is moving too fast. 

Our summer in Europe was sometimes exhausting and even frustrating (and I really did get my fill of churches for the next few years), but I loved the adventure and history and watching my children's faces as they took in Europe for the first time. I loved watching my husband navigate the streets of his childhood town in Germany and somehow meander through small streets right up to the door of his favorite toy shop from when he was 7 or 8 years old---and 40 years later, it's still there. 

Then in early August, I had to get on a train to board a plane back to the U.S., leaving my 18 year old son knowing that he was going to travel alone to destinations unknown for 6 weeks or more. He went where his heart (or wallet) led him, traveling to places like Bulgaria and Italy, where he has friends, and to Hungary, Poland, Austria, Egypt, Israel, and the West Bank. He saw pyramids, museums, and a famous Banksy. He argued with vendors and shopkeepers, he negotiated taxi prices, he learned how not to get ripped off, sometimes learning these things the hard way. He learned that you can't always hide you are an American, even if you don't always dress like one. If you've lived or worked or traveled outside the U.S., you understand why you don't want to always be known as an American. 

He stayed in hostels and nice hotels. He rode on trains, in planes, and used Über, too. He navigated this on this own, sometimes making mistakes, and never once was I completely at ease until he was back home in Cuba. But I was excited and at awe at how brave he was, how creative he could be when it came to problem solving (and it wasn't all smooth sailing), and how thrifty he was most of the time (since he spent mostly his own money). At 18, I never knew you could take off alone on a train with a backpack and a few hundred dollars and see the world. I am happy he got this opportunity. 

Many people (some to my face, some to other people behind my back who, naturally, told me) have questioned why I would "let" my 18 year old son travel so many places alone. Wasn't I scared? Was that really a responsible thing to do as a parent? How could I allow him to do such a dangerous thing? Yet most people who have asked these questions have rarely, if ever, left the United States, and if so, not any time in recent history. Or they don't understand that you really can't stop an 18 year old stubborn kid (he got a good dose from both parents) who is determined to see the world. Do you "let" an 18 year old do anything? Especially when he's spending his own money and making his own plans?  In Europe, he could rent a hotel room and order a beer with no trouble. He was treated more like an adult there than in the U.S.  It was sort of trial by fire, and in less than a month, he will be going back to Europe again, but this time to live---in Spain, going to college in Madrid.   

So this is a year of letting go of the child who, when I was 25, was told I would probably never have (boy, that doctor was wrong), and who, at 4 years old, drove me absolutely crazy and made me question my parenting abilities every single day of my life. The child who went from an only child and center of our world to a big brother at 7 1/2, and never once showed anything but love and acceptance and pride in that role. He's a kid I would have wanted to be my friend in high school, and now I'm sending him to college and feeling those crazy feelings all parents have---and maybe even more, since we will be on two completely separate continents, and just getting to see each other will take a major act of persistence and coordination, especially for us living in GTMO, the Hardest Place to Leave on Earth. 

2016 meant seeing GTMO friend Erika (with Kim) at St. Simon's Island; saying goodbye to Ana (and later Elena and Uliana) at Ferry Landing; seeing Leslee (with Michelle) in Jacksonville; seeing my high school buddy Michelle in Pensacola; getting a long, wonderful stay with Anna in Germany; going to my first GTMO formal with Uliana; and seeing Ana again in Macedonia. 

As it marks the end of the year, I think of the many, many people I've met because of living here that I am thankful are part of my life, and I desperately hope that I've shown each of them the gratitude they deserve. 

We've made new friends and had some dear, wonderful friends leave island in 2016. Living in a community that is constantly in flux many times allows us to become fast friends with people for an intense 1, 2, or 3 years. As a result, we have friends from all over the world who, like our friends in Macedonia, give us reasons to visit places we've never even considered going before now. It also means that with every goodbye, you have to be willing to open your heart again to opportunities for friendships. I'll be the first to admit that sometimes I shy away from warming up to new people because it really does hurt losing people you really trust and enjoy spending time with. So many people I've clicked with have moved on and we lost touch. Others I talk to every week. It's the struggle of living overseas, but it is also the beauty of living overseas---you have friends all over the world who understand your need to not call one place "home." 

I also did not get good news about the transfer round that I was hoping this week. It's out of my hands and there is no special consideration for our hardship area, so I figure the chips will fall where they may. Another year here or a new adventure elsewhere in the world will not change the facts in 2017 that I am a mom who is going to worry about her son living alone abroad, or a mom who is going to worry about her "baby" becoming a middle schooler, or a teacher who is always tired (and my feet---I really can't wait to retire so I'm not on my feet 8 hours a day). In April, the two campuses will combine to one, so I will be back on campus with my youngest again. I will lose one of my very best GTMO friends (the best) in early 2017. 

Time marches on, and even slow island life goes on, as well. Many big changes are around the corner, and finding ways to deal with the trials, tribulations, and celebrations of GTMO will still be here. 

It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like. . . Xmas in Summer; or, Santa Baby, Bring Me a Transfer

December is here!

December does bring a little milder weather, compared to the humid, sweaty, bug-ridden months of July and August. As I'm writing this, it's 88º outside, and with humidity and low cloud cover, at least according to The Weather Channel online, it "feels like 97º."

Ah, well. At least it doesn't feel like it's 107º, right?

Monty Python gives me my mantra for many a day in GTMO.

December brings the annual Christmas parade and Christmas tree lighting. We have a huge Christmas tree on (where else?) Christmas Tree Hill that is ceremoniously lit, as well as one in the atrium of the NEX/Commissary (only shopping in town!). 

The elementary kids always sing during the lighting, which means December also brings me trying to find our youngest kid a pair of long pants to wear for the occasion. He will also need these for the Holiday show right before school is out. (Christmas, Hanukkah, and winter-themed music---it's always my favorite show of the year). 

So December means lots of kids on base will be wearing "high water" pants, because at about $45 a pop, we aren't buying our kids pants they will wear 2-3 times in a year. I usually buy a pair in the summer if/when we go back to the States in a size or two too large, but somehow, miraculously, that kid grows and they don't fit, come December. 

December means decorations at home, too. It's a weird and strange thing getting into the holiday spirit when it's basically summer. Last year was the first year we put up the Christmas Palm Tree. We promised the youngest kid that if we were here for four years in GTMO (yeah, right, how many people are here for 4 years, right?), we would break down and buy the Christmas Palm Tree. 

Well, folks, we are at year five and we are enjoying another Christmas with the Christmas Palm Tree. 

The best part of the Christmas Palm Tree? It uses less ornaments. Easy clean-up. It fits neatly in a box. And it's strange and weird, just like GTMO. 

December also brings transfer season.

This is the one thing I don't want to talk too much about. I feel like I will somehow jinx myself, which is really silly, because if you've been following this for a while, you know transferring from here has been at times a frustrating, upsetting, depressing topic. Other times, I feel at peace with being here---I'm not necessarily a "I'm here because I'm supposed to be here at this time" sort of person, but it has allowed us some rewards, as well, which I also have talked about. (I usually talk about these things 2-3 months after finding out the transfer season is over and I didn't get my lucky ticket). I won't get into the whole "why do you want to leave GTMO" bit; just look over posts from the last 4 years, and you'll see the things I love and despise about here. Sometimes the balance is more in one way than the other; I usually am balanced in the middle. 

So I am, for the third year in a row, officially an "A+" candidate for transfers. In the "good ole days" (boy, I ALWAYS seem to get into districts once those supposed days are over), A+ guaranteed you a ticket out and to one of your top 3-4 spots on your list. Now, with a tight budget, a smaller military, and less resources put towards moving teachers around (it's cheaper to hire stateside than move those of us already in the system), I'm in this weird limbo.

In 2014, I put in considerable time researching countries, schools, activities in the 10-15 areas on my "wish list" for my family, the prices of tickets to and from the US, local celebrations and festivals, food, housing, etc. I had spreadsheets and the OCD thing. I was the ONLY A+ in my entire school. But alas, with only 3 years in the system, a very limited number of transfers, and a system that chooses the "best" candidate for a vacant position solely on number of years that person has in the system, I didn't get out. 

I was crushed. 

I sort of rebounded and found hope again in 2015, but with much less zeal (and much less choosiness---I really put almost every place down on my list), I tried again. And no transfer. 

So this year, I'm sort of like, meh. If it happens, yay. If not, I am even more convinced I work for a bureaucracy that cares less about its employees and more about cutting corners. 

I hope that doesn't sound too bitter. I am bitter sometimes, but most of the time, just frustrated. I did not become an overseas teacher to spend it on a 45 square mile piece of land that has no connection to the culture or people of the country it inhabits. 

So December brings that, and I can honestly say I took less than 3 minutes to fill out my application this year. I refuse to build it up and put so much time and energy into the transfer season ever again. It's like when you break up with a loser boyfriend, and then get back with him thinking he's going to change. But nope. . . he's not. 

In the meanwhile. . . some more good. December brings my oldest son preparing for college. This includes a trip to the Spanish Consulate in Houston this week to get his visa so he can study in Madrid. He will be leaving in January. 

December brings a super-quick trip back to the US (Jacksonville, OF COURSE) so we can take him to the airport to say goodbye. Don't know if I'm quite prepared for that one. 

December brings my birthday, which is always an anti-climatic event, since 99% of the time, all my friends are out of town for vacation. This year will be no different. But it also means I get to celebrate a small gathering with my family, and if we are lucky, a couple of friends who will hopefully still be in the area. 

I do like closure, and I have a lot of open doors at the end of December---the transfer round, my son leaving the country. But I do think it's also a sign that 2017 is going to be a year of big changes. How big is yet to be seen. 

Branching Out in Bavaria; or, Hot Date in Regensburg

Regensburg, Germany   
July 7-8

one hour drive from Vilseck to Regensburg

Anniversaries have never been a really big deal for us.

To me, a wedding anniversary is something silly to celebrate as one big event. Whoo-hoo! We're still married!

Instead, I like getting something small (like a heartfelt, handwritten note in a card or a meal in a favorite restaurant) and carry on like it's any other day.

The other reality is we are usually apart during our anniversary. For the first four years, we were separated thanks to Uncle Sam and the U.S. Army. Then it became my summer trips to see family living out of state while the kids and I were on break. July is travel time, and we are just as likely (or more so) to travel separately than together.

This is the second year in a row that we are able to celebrate together in a more over-the-top than usual manner. Last year we spent our anniversary in Mexico. This year, we took a trip to the beautiful and historical town of Regensburg.

Cultural stuff: 
Regensburg was the location of a Roman fort in 90 AD. Much of the 11th-13th century Gothic architecture is still visible today. It was also bombed several times during WWII.  Unlike Köln, which was obliterated by bombing in WWII and had to replace historical structures with modern, grey buildings, Regensburg was luckily spared mass destruction and put great efforts into restoring the city to its Medieval roots. For its efforts, its old town center is a recognized UNESCO World Heritage Site.

Things to do: 
The old part of the city sits on the Danube. Quaint cafes and Würstchen stands line the path facing the river. We saw families on bikes, couples eating and drinking on blankets, kids running around with gelato, and lots and lots of people taking in the sun on a pleasant and beautiful day.

It's the Danube!

View of an outdoor cafe from the UNESCO information center.

What we did enjoy was sitting and people watching. Drinking good beer and taking in the sights from a sidewalk cafe. Window shopping. Relaxing and having a good time.

people watching, window shopping, and beer drinking

For our anniversary we stayed in a rather posh hotel called the Domresidenz. The hotel is on a tiny street with lots of interesting shops---you can find anything from a fancy hat to a vintage Tom Jones album. 

The hotel itself is located in an 800 year old building. It's been gutted and modernized for the most part, but the historical bones of the building are still there, with too-short doorways carved of stone, walls that aren't square in any way or fashion. On the corner from the hotel is an antiques store the owners also have, and the decor was a combination of Swedish modern and gorgeous antiques from their shop.

view from one of the hotel windows

The Domresidenz has only a few suites, and each is a 2 bedroom/1 bath apartment with a full kitchen and dining room. We didn't take advantage of the kitchen since we ate out. In a month in Europe, we only stayed in hotels for a total of 5 nights. This was most definitely our biggest splurge. But you only celebrate your 23rd anniversary one time, right?

There are several sidewalk cafes/bars across from the cathedral that make a great place for people watching. Beer runs anywhere from $5-10, depending on the size. The sidewalk cafes have blankets over the backs of chairs in case you get cold in the evenings. This seems to be typical all over Germany.

There is also a nice shopping area where we hit up the Birkenstock store and TK Maxx. Yes, you read that right. Germany has TK Maxx and it's as great as its US cousin. 

Best of all in Regensburg was the selection of brew houses (braühauses?) that serve cheap, good Bavarian dishes. After scouring the internet for reviews and careful consideration, we chose the Weissbraühaus. Okay, who am I kidding---we passed by and I wanted to go inside because Weiss is one of my family names. Silly, I know. Later we found out that it actually is one of the top rated pubs in Regensburg on several travel and restaurant sites. They brew their own beer and have a wonderful selection of traditional Bavarian dishes. Prices were very reasonable ($8-15 for entrees) and the service was great.  

obligatory food shot. I promise we won't have many of these. 

What I learned: 

Our first solo trip without our German speaking host was a little daunting for me in the beginning. First, there was getting there---on the Autobahn. Yes, that Autobahn. We borrowed our friends' cute little Hyundai---great for getting around tight, tiny streets in Europe, but not really meant to burn up the Autobahn. We puttered around at 70-80 mph and watched in wonder as cars whizzed by like we were standing still. (We've get a second round in a much faster car later in the trip). Second, checking in to the hotel, shopping, and ordering food meant trying to use a little bit of German. My German is, well, atrocious. I am a little hopeless, Duolingo and all. But it was a great adventure because it was one of the first times in a long, long, long time that my husband and I have had a day and night to ourselves. We laughed a lot at our attempts---and as anyone who travels will tell you, if you just try to speak the local language, it will open doors and you will generally get better service. Muddling through it together within our first week overseas was a great experience, and an apt way to mark our anniversary, since our relationship started as friends in college living in Mexico, trying to master a foreign culture and language and laughing the whole time. 

Journeys and Destinations; or, Wanderlust

Exciting, exciting news in GTMO.

Okay, it's GTMO-exciting, not real-life exciting. (It's the little things, y'all, that make the mundane an adventure in itself).

The Map of Lost Mail earned yet 2 more pins! Whoo-hoo! In case you have been following the oh-so-exciting movement of our mail through the worldwide APO/FPO/DPO system, we now have mail that was missent to an APO in Alconbury, England and an FPO in London, England. Mail detouring through England is exciting, as we haven't been there (yet). If I were a superstitious sort, I would see this as a sign. Well, I am not too superstitious, but I do see it as this: our mail system is not great. And if I ever run out of things to write about, I can have a blog where I explore online each of the amazing places my mail has seen without me.

The country count now is eight: Oman, Spain, Italy, Egypt, Qatar, Germany, Kuwait, England. As I always say, my mail is better traveled than I am.

We also got our international driver's permits in the mail recently (yay!). Also: a nice package from our Germany friends chock full of travel info including brochures and maps. It's so exciting! We're chipping away slowly but steadily at the pre-vacation to-do list. We leave Cuba for the US this weekend, and after a few brief days in New England we will spend about a month exploring Germany, Macedonia, and who knows where else. 

As one journey ends---high school education, living at home---another begins for our son. As I've been busy reading and researching about our summer destinations, I'm aware, too, of how our journey parallels our son's. 

His literal journey starts in July, as he'll backpack around Europe for a few months; high school graduation marked one of those milestones for his journey beginning adulthood. We can pack and prepare for a vacation, but how do you prepare yourself for the other journeys and detours of life? I don't know if high school so much prepared me for the real world, but it was a place to learn about dealing with other people (sometimes the difficult sort), and it was where I learned that I didn't want to be in one place forever. I think high school is about learning what you want in life as much as learning about what you don't want in life. 

If I could describe my high school self in one word, it would be "restless." I was ready to move, to get started with college. I loved New Orleans and dreamed of living there (or any other city). I am thankful that I had 12 years of school in one place, but my experience taught me that I am not one to set permanent roots. I love the peripatetic lifestyle and I am always looking forward to the next big adventure.  

I also found my love of travel in high school. I went to Mexico City (and Teotihuacan), Villahermosa (and Palenque), and Cancun with a group of students when I was 16. It was an amazing adventure and my first time out of the country. That was it---I was hooked. I still get that excited feeling every time I walk out of the airport and on to somewhere new. It's the smells that tell you that you are somewhere "foreign" long before you even take in the sights. It's the beautiful music of accents, including those I'll never master. Traffic, birds, even the wind blowing through the trees can be exotic sounds in a new place. I am excited about the prospects of going to more places this summer that I've never experienced and learning more about the world. I hope to continue fostering my children's love of travel during this trip, and I am excited about our oldest breaking out on his own. 

As he is taking his journey through Europe (and towards college), I hope he comes to some realizations on his own. My biggest realization through living abroad and traveling all over the world is that as a female, I am lucky to have been raised in the United States. I will never take that for granted. I also find that adventure bodes well with me, but all adventures have an end, and at the end of a long trip, I love coming home to my own bed. Sometimes that's the bed in my temporary home in Cuba; other times, it's the bed in my childhood home in Mississippi. Either way, it's getting back to where I can reflect (and plan the next trip) that inspires me to take more journeys. 

Hot Child(ren) in the City; or, Celebrations and Happiness

June has been a very happy month thus far. The most spectacular cause of celebration is Boy 1's high school graduation last Friday night. We celebrated all weekend and my parents made the long, arduous trip on island for the occasion. There are always flight delays and weather issues and the chance you won't make one of the very limited number of flights here when you visit. Thankfully, this was the first time in three trips my parents didn't have some sort of weird travel issue that seems the norm when traveling to GTMO. I am so thankful they were able to be here and we had a too-short but fun visit.

A plus: Rodney even got in on the graduation fun. How awesome is Cuba's only squirrel?

WT Sampson has a tradition of all graduates making a short speech thanking people who have helped them in their journeys to graduation. This is what happens when you have a small graduating class (14). It was a very personal celebration for each and every kid. I was proud of my guy and the other kids who made funny, thoughtful, sweet speeches. The ceremony went off without a hitch and the slide show was a tear jerker. I love seeing pictures from all stages of their lives, and this group of graduates is very special to me---I taught most of them for at least one class, and I worked closely with them to put the prom together last year. I've known many of them all four years we've lived here. They are a creative, smart, and really special group of kids to me and I am going to miss them terribly next year.

One of my favorites from the slide show---Baby G and my Paw Dudley, c. 2000. 

Now that graduation is over, we are moving on to summer plans. Today is the last day of school for kids and Friday's my last day. Many colleagues are leaving island Friday, too. We always stay a week or two to get our bearings before the culture shock that ensues when you make the trip back to the States. On top of that, we are traveling to visit friends in Germany and Macedonia and we're making last minute preparations for our July overseas.

Yesterday we were celebrating the near-end of the year and Boy 2 and I had another fantastic moment in Cuban radio----Nick Gilder's 70's hit "Hot Child in the City" was blaring during our blistering fast race (at 25 mph) down Sherman Ave and I actually drove under the speed limit (not easy for me) so we could loudly sing along.  Then traditional Cuban music came back on. GTMO is like that---you find the strangest, weirdest moments where you shake your head and think, "Did I really just hear/see that?" It is hotter than seven hells right now so "Hot Child in the City" seems like an appropriate theme song for this week in GTMO.

Here's to summer vacation and more of life's moments that make you pause and smile.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d02k10Bz6ro

Party Like it's 1999; or, The Kindness of Strangers

I really don't know why back in the late summer I thought, hey, I can be the Junior Class sponsor and plan a prom! 

I mean, REALLY. I hate throwing any sort of celebration and just planning a kid's birthday party causes me lots of anxiety. Is anyone going to show up? Am I going to have enough food, or do I have way too much? I also don't like dealing with the less-than-stellar mail service here (or lack of), and it's not like you can run down to the party center, the discount store, the grocery store, or the craft store to get supplies. So you are at the mercy of mail service that, well, sucks.

A plus is that in 3 years I have learned to be resourceful, if nothing else, and I was fortunate enough to work with kids who are also resourceful and creative + hard working to boot.

This is how everyone pitched in to make a prom happen at a school with less than 50 high school students:

• Instead of ordering very expen$$$ive cardboard cutouts for photo props, we had the Seabees make them. They donated the materials and lots of time, plus they drew half of the props themselves. A group of high schoolers spent 4-5 hours one Saturday designing the other ones. These will then be recycled for drama and music productions. 
• A couple of ladies from JTF volunteered their time, materials, and talents to paint the props for us. They also picked them up and dropped them back off at the school. 
• The youth director from the chapel volunteered his time to pick up the props from the school and transport them to the Bayview restaurant, the location of the prom. 
• A group of parents, staff members, and members of the community helped with the set up of decorations and the take down at the end of the night. 

In addition, we had help financially, as well. You don't get a blank check from any school to buy what you need for prom; it's always the job of the Junior Class to raise all the money. 

A prom for 40-50 people and a meal shouldn't be that expensive, right? 

Maybe in the States, but not here in GTMO. 

Because you are having to ship in everything via the barge (as in "it's on the barge"---yes, that barge) or via plane, catering is super expensive. And because trying to coordinate something other than using catering on base requires way more planning than I am capable of doing, you pay what you pay. It's the same with facilities---we were limited as to where you can serve 40-50 people and have space for a dance floor.

It's not just limited resources and the expense of everything here that's difficult---there is the money factor. Unlike schools in the states, we are limited in the amount of fundraising (both the amount and the number of fundraisers) that we can do by our district and by the base JAG. As a result, we worked 3 times harder to raise probably 1/10 of what we would have raised in the US. People on base are very generous (especially when they hear that it's for a prom). We had lots of half or all-day fundraisers, and every time we finished, we would count the money and I'd think, well that's another platter of sushi. Maybe this will pay for some decorations. Money doesn't go far here, but every single dollar mattered.

Despite working our butts off, we still came up short, but thankfully we had groups all over base that donated money (and one group donated the proceeds from a carwash they held with the students).

photo: Brian Teal Photography

Hardships aside, we do have something going here you don't get just anywhere else. For example: check out the view above. You don't get that back in a hotel ballroom in the US! We didn't have ice sculptures (like my former high school) or other fancy decorations, a live band or a four star meal. What we had was a great time for kids to get together and do what they do here---everyone was accepted and the kids got along wonderfully. Because the high school is so tiny, students 9-12 are invited (and 8th graders can go with a high school date). We have 49 students 9-12, and we had 41 students attend prom, including a handful of 8th graders and homeschoolers.

I can't imagine some of my former high schools allowing students to attend prom in casual clothes. Here attire ranged from a tux to jeans---I told the kids that the dress code was "something clean." We live in a place where you can't run to a clothing store to get traditional prom attire---it requires a lot of planning and hoping that the mail service works efficiently (which it doesn't) and that the clothes fit. Remember, we are behind a fence and can't just drive over into Cuba any old time to get clothes. It's also ridiculous to have a strict dress code because we are on a military base----several kids either just recently got here or are in the process of leaving and have all of their dress clothes in transit---so I told them to wear what they have, but please come. And they did. (And they looked fabulous, regardless of what they wore).

So for all of my worrying and fretting and hand wringing and sleepless nights, it went well.

Will I do it again?

Definitely not next year. I am not the sort of person who has the confidence or foresight that what we are doing now will pay off many months from now. Flaky mail service, the added expenses of anything you do here, the inconvenience of having to plan something months and months in advance because you can't do anything last minute at an isolated, small base, created so much anxiety that I honestly wasn't able to enjoy everything until an hour or so into the prom, when I realized yes, this is going to work. I need a break and I'm looking forward to spending some of those 100+ hours I spent on the prom with my senior next year (I am still in denial), his cute little brother, and my baby-daddy, who was a good sport and was my prom date.

Clockwise, starting top left: 1920s jazz cutouts for photo props; our Speakeasy door (tickets had
the secret password on them); view of the dining room and our feather centerpieces; part of
the games which included card games and a foosball table (seriously); some of the
giveaways at the door; the beautiful and delicious cake at the center of the
dessert table. Not pictured: the bar with mocktails and lots of kids
on the dancefloor and in the dining area
All photos: Brian Teal Photography

I get so frustrated with this place sometimes and how it just seems like you have 1001 factors going against you when you try to plan anything. I've dealt with my share of disappointments this year. Some are big, like the transfer round that wasn't a transfer round. Some are small, like items that arrive broken in the mail, or that things are so stupidly expensive here. But then something comes around to put my life in perspective and I have to be humble and thankful for what I have.

To depend on what Tennessee Williams called "the kindness of strangers" in Streetcar ----having people you've never met volunteer time, talents, and money to help, many of whom have no connection to the school other than they want the school to have a successful prom---was both an eye-opening and an humbling experience for me. Seeing my son and his classmates work together so well to make this work---did I mention that there are only TWELVE students in the entire junior class?!?---made me so very proud of them.

After prom, I went home quite exhausted, with aching feet, but with a full heart. https://librarianwanderlust.blogspot.com/2015/05/party-like-its-1999-or-kindness-of.html

Lists and More Lists; or, Archers Can't Complain

We are STILL waiting for any of the Christmas presents to make it here by Thursday.  Not a single thing I ordered (mostly in mid-November) for the kids or husband has made it yet. NOTHING. Seriously. . .

Instead of focusing on gifts, so far this holiday we've done that thing we always do, which is the "where do you want to go next" game. I honestly don't think it hurts at all to dream, and because I will probably have some say in where we go (or more precisely, where we don't want to go), we make mental lists and talk about all the overseas options.

We probably won't hear anything in January at the earliest, but in the meanwhile, Son 2 has decided against only Belgium, the mistaken land of Legos, for a more broad-based list of locations. Almost 2 years ago he created the "talk list," and now I present the "must have" list for any country:

Things we need for relocation

A) We need internet speed. That is anywhere else in the world but here, so that doesn't really narrow things down. I won't miss the shady phone/internet monopoly here in Cuba.

B) Then there's the NEX size. I say scratch the NEX off the list permanently. Honestly, if I never, ever set foot in another NEX after leaving here it will make me happy. I'm tired of $250 purses, $40 flip flops, and other top-shelf stuff that does not impress me, especially when I'm trying to shop on a budget. I'm no mathematician, but you can buy 10 purses at TJ Maxx for what one Michael Kors purse costs, just sayin'. I'm more than ready to live off the economy somewhere else. I will also be happy to shop somewhere where I don't have small children (neighbors, students) screaming my name as I'm carrying a box of tampons in one hand, a bottle of wine in the other. 

So that doesn't really narrow it down, either. 

C) There is "animation camp." I don't know where he got that idea, but he's been talking about really wanting to go to an animation camp. Is there really such thing? And is it something you can do online? Because if you can do it via internet, that means anywhere but here.

D) Toys. It's almost Christmas and the entire no-mail situation has been more stressful than it should be because somehow, inexplicably, we have less toys for Christmas in the NEX than before. As far as we can tell, there were no Christmas toy shipments. We don't get the same sales circulars that you get from the NEX in the US; in fact, since we've moved here, the amount of toys and children's books has dwindled drastically. You don't need toys to be happy, I know, but it is frustrating when you go to a birthday party (and most kids here have parties where all the classmates attend) and you have to chose from the same 5 Lego sets we've had for a year now, for example. So I can see how Boy 2 would like a little variety.  Make them German or Japanese, and that's even better. 

That's the thing. I'm ready for variety. I am hoping for good news in January or so that I will be eligible to transfer (and then the real fun of figuring out where we can go is next). 

Also----is it a little ridiculous that a kid wants to live somewhere with toys or functioning internet? These are things we took for granted in the US, but it's crazy, bizarre, and strange that we live in a place where those things are extras. I'm hoping they are a good trade for some of his freedom, because he definitely won't have free reign of the neighborhood in any other country where we can live. 

My birthday was this week and it was a nice, quiet night at-home event with friends and family. One of my friends and I started talking about horoscopes and she told me that Sagittariuses (or is that "Sagittarians?" ) are the most optimistic of all signs (I looked it up later just to make sure. She's right. And we are the most adventurous. Go figure). I should also point out that we are half archer, half horse's ass. I've never been accused of being the former, but I've been called the latter more than once. 

http://www.imagesbuddy.com/images/183/sagittarius-23-novembe-21st-december.jpg

Basically, Archers are "blindly optimistic," which means I shouldn't complain. So on that note, here are some positives from the last week or so: 

Paperwork, paperwork, and more paperwork paid off and I got 2/3 of my last summer's travel expenses reimbursed, finally. Trust me, it's a big deal and a happy occasion (and I'm still going to resubmit, resubmit, resubmit for the other 1/3). 

Ticked off more items from my not-bucket list and went to the Cuban home to visit the special category residents (basically, those who stayed when the gate closed). They sang "happy birthday" to me in Spanish (2-3 versions, all at one time!) and it was the BEST rendition I've heard ever. I'll never forget that. 

Also: checked off that I went back to Ft. Conde.  A boat ride across the Bay and a trek through the jungle (okay, it's really not a jungle) and we were at an abandoned early 1900s fort.  I'll post more about that (with pics) later. 

Son 2 got to be in a second Christmas parade---this time, a boat parade. How fun! Another GTMO first! 

I am taking better care of my health. I had surgery last week and I'm having more before break ends. Not a great way to spend vacation, but if it's what it takes to make you feel better, it's worth it.

I am almost finished with what I hope is my last grad class for a while.  I was up to 1 am trying to get technology to work this morning and it verified my suspicions--- I would be an absolute sadist to ever assign any technology-based project to my students here. 

So far, vacation's been relaxing (and it really doesn't officially start until Monday). Here's to two weeks of adventuring and relaxing, celebrating and chilling out. Happy Winter Solstice to you!