The Most Important Patch of Land in France

There's an area up in northern France, you may have heard of it.  To look at it, you may not guess that it is probably one of the most significant places in the world.  Well, it is.

Utah Beach

Today, Normandy is one giant tourist attraction.  You'll hear more English being spoken here than you will French, even in the off season.  But, just a short 70 or so years ago this area was at the very eye of the storm during World War II.  One June 6, 1944, the Allies brought the fight to Hitler when they invaded Utah, Omaha, Juno, Sword, and Gold beaches.  From that point on, the tide of the war in Europe had definitely changed.

William the Conqueror's Castle, the imposing fortress of Falaise where the Duke
and future King of England was born and spent his early years.

But, incidentally, the events of D-Day aren't the only reason why Normandy is significant.  An invasion, this time in the reverse, which took place about 880 years prior is another claim to fame for the former Duchy.  Pretty much every student of Western history knows the date of 1066, when William the Bastard, Duke of Normandy, launched about 700 ships from Normandy on his way to the history changing battle at Hastings with Harold Godwinson.  The defeat of the Anglo-Saxon army by the Normans drastically altered the course of world history.  The repercussions of the Norman invasion cannot be overstated.  Normandy was William's home and where he spent most of his life, even after he became King of England.  It's where he learned to be one of the most successful military and government leaders to have ever lived.

Bayeux Cathedral, the original 

So, you see, Normandy is saturated in history.  It is positively dripping in it, actually.  The major cities of Caen and Bayeux are chock full of 12th Century edifices.  You can't turn a corner without running into some giant yellow sandstone monument to the Normans' power.  If you have a thing for medieval architecture, something I myself suffer from, you will be in heaven.  Despite the destruction of war that nearly leveled these cities, very few of the old buildings show any signs of that abuse today.  Bayeux is home to one of the most important works of European art too.  The Bayeux Tapestry resides in its very own museum in the heart of the city.  The tapestry is not only a work of art, but a historical document.  At seventy meters long, it tells the story of the Norman invasion, from Edward the Confessor's bequeathing of the crown to his cousin William, to Harold's adventures in Normandy, to his snatching of the crown upon Edward's death, to the building of the Norman fleet, to the final moments of the battle in 1066.  For a piece of cloth that is almost 1000 years old, it doesn't show it's age.  It's incredible, not only because of the level of craftsmanship and the aesthetics, but because of its fantastic detail.  You can learn a lot about what things were like in the Middle Ages just by studying this 70m long cloth.

Obviously, however, most people visit Normandy because of the events of 1944.  Today, it's hard to imagine as you walk through the quaint streets of the cities or the beaches the amount of violence that erupted here.  It's an inherently peaceful place of stone villages, seaside cottages, and sun dappled gardens.  But, you don't have to look too closely to see evidence of what went down here.

German jackboot print in a ruined artillery bunker.

One of Hitler's last surviving guns, now silent overlooking the Channel at Longues-sur-Mer

The D-Day sites of Normandy have been written about time and again by authors far more knowledgable and talented than myself.  I will not begin to pour into the events, the characters, and the immensities of D-Day.  It's too much to take in, process, and then re-disseminate.  I didn't expect to be moved when we visited the American cemetery.  I've spent many hours in cemeteries for my work back in the day.  Never once was I overwhelmed by a cross or a name and a date.  Here, however, I was.  How do you reacted to field after field of pure white stone representing a lives cut down in their prime for a cause they couldn't have understood?  I don't know.  It's something that has be seen to understand

So, visit Normandy? Yes.  Visit Normandy even if you don't care one iota about history?  Yes.  The food is good, and you may actually learn something too.  Learning never hurt anyone.  Normandy has a lot to teach.  It played a major role in two of the most significant events in world history, events which shape our present world.  Of any place in France, perhaps even more than that famous tower, this is one spot you should visit.

Lovin' Leuven

Ok, I realize I talk about Belgium a lot.  I understand that I might have a small addiction to the place.  However, since the move to Germany, I don't think we'll be getting there much anymore.  When we realized that, we decided to ween ourselves off the land of strong beer and golden frites instead of going cold turkey.  So, one more visit was in order last weekend.  There was one place we wanted to visit one more time and another we hadn't made it to yet.

The revisit, of course, had to be L'Ancien Hopital in Saint-Hubert.  As they say, the third time's the charm.  We were pretty certain that it was our favorite restaurant ever, but a third visit would seal the deal.  We were right, not that there were any doubts.  This time we also booked a room, so it's not only the best restaurant ever, but it's also a lovely place to spend the weekend.  My final words on the subject:  If you are in Belgium (I'm talking to you, cycling fans) you need to make a special trip down to Saint-Hubert for a meal.  You will not be disappointed.  I'm certain of it.  Plus, it'll give you the opportunity to ride the lesser known roads of Wallonia.

Ok, now on to Leuven.  When people (I mean non-cycling fans now) visit Belgium, if they do at all, the big draws are Brussels and Bruges.  As a result, there are a lot of other equally awesome (if not better) cities that stay under the radar.  You get all the same sorts of things that draw people to the Big B's, but none of the tour buses.  Leuven is one of those cities.

Leuven is a university city.  It's about 25km east of Brussels in Flanders, so a piece a cake to visit on a day trip or an overnight stop if time in Belgium is brief.  While it's not like the preserved medieval cities of Bruges and Gent, it has a lot to offer the visitor.

First of all, it is home to InBev, the largest brewer in the world.  Stella Artois is brewed in the city and opens its doors to groups of visitors on the weekends.  If you're traveling with a large group, this might be worth a look.  English tours are provided.  If you're not interested in a tour or can't tag along with a group, you can visit their on site shop to pick up a souvenir.  Now, for those who prefer craft beer over the big factory brews, Leuven is also home to the smaller Huisbrouwerij Domus which makes 3 crafts at their location in the center as well as a pub.  Still not impressed with the brewing options?

The last weekend of April is Leuven's Beer Weekend (April 26-27 in 2014). It is the largest Belgian beer festival in the world!  During the weekend at least 100 brewers will be in the city offering their wares, there will be special tours at Domus and Stella, and special beer themed tours of the city.  We were told the majority of the participants are small craft breweries so it's an opportunity to try beers you won't find outside of this part Belgium.  As a bonus, this is the same weekend as Liège-Bastogne-Liège, so if you're in the area for the Ardennes Classics anyway...

Ok, enough about the beer.

Leuven being a University city, the oldest Catholic University in the world actually, is vibrant and eclectic.  You won't find the same old same old in Leuven.  The pedestrian shopping district is one of the largest I've visited and is dominated by unique boutiques and shops you won't find in every other city.  If you're interested in picking up something besides the usual tourist trap junk this would be a place to look.  There are plenty of churches and chapels to explore if you're an architecture enthusiast.  And there's a well reviewed art museum, M, if you're looking for an afternoon to appreciate Flemish masters or contemporary art.

And dinner?  You won't have trouble finding a place to cater to your cravings.  You can find traditional Flemish restaurants or something with a more creative bent.  Of course, if you're in the mood for Italian or Mexican or just about anything else, they have that too.  There are some truly fine dining options available.  You will definitely eat well.  But, make sure you book ahead.

Of course, the city has the same charm of the other Belgian cities with a massive (currently being restored) cathedral, flamboyant Town Hall, and traditional Flemish architecture.  It's a pleasure to stroll through the city squares, especially after hours when the shopping crowds clear out and the buildings are lit.

So, if you have time and want to see a corner of Belgium that's often overlooked, give Leuven a shot.  You may been pleasantly surprised!

Crossing Paths

The road wasn't really a road.  It was the type of two track we used to enjoy plowing up in our Wrangler back in the day.  By the looks of things, nothing of that size had come through this way in quite some time, just people, dogs, and the occasional mountain bike.  We were on foot.  We had to be on foot this time.  I didn't want to miss a single tree, leaf, rock, or mud puddle.  We were following someone, someone I never knew or met.  He had been long gone by the time I showed up on earth, but he is a part of who I am nevertheless.  Life has a funny way of working out.  Of all the places to find him, I never thought it would be here, walking through the mud up a hill that doesn't have a name to a village that could barely be labeled as such to see a view that really isn't that incredible compared to others we've seen.  Then again, it was the most incredible of all.

It was a couple of days into the last real battle his Infantry division would see during The War.  They had just crossed over the Main River that day and were techincally behind the Nazi lines.  The Nazis weren't there, however, they had all been called into the city of Aschaffenburg, about 15km down river.  It was the end of March 1945 and the war in Europe would be over in little more than a month.  Of course, he didn't know that, even though up until this point they had met with little resistance from the Nazi forces.  But, for some inexplicable reason they were holding Aschaffenburg with surprising resilience.  His Field Artillery Battalion traveled in support of an infantry regiment assigned to attacking the city from the south.  So, here they were up on the top of an insignificant hill preparing to fire the big guns at one of the final military strongholds of the Nazis.

He'd landed in North Africa in June 1943, in July he was in the invasion of Sicily, and in September he and his division invaded Salerno.  In January of 1944, his division was ordered to invade behind the Gustav Line at Anzio.  They'd been dug in during that terrible siege for four months.  Next, in August, they landed in Southern France to begin the advance towards Germany.  They crossed the Belfort Gap, the Moselle River, the Mortagne River, and the Zintzel River, before they finally broke through the Siegfried Line on March 17, 1945.  By now, most of his friends that had landed with him in Africa had been killed.  But, after meeting little resistance since France, the men of his division began to think that they may make it home.  He had begun to make plans about life after the War.  He and his best friend Eddie had served together in the same Battery since basic training.  They talked about opening a car dealership back in New Jersey.  He'd written his fiancée about setting up the guest room for Eddie so he'd have a place to crash in a city that would be flooded with returning troops.  All they had to do was stay alive and wait for the fall of Berlin, which as this rate wouldn't be too far off.  Perhaps, if they were lucky, they'd get out of being sent to the Pacific.  But, plans change and war is unpredictable.

They crossed the Rhine on March 26th.  It was during that historic crossing that Eddie had been shot and killed right next to him.  It was a cruel twist of fate.  So cruel, he could barely bring himself to write home about it.  All he could say was to forget setting up the guest room.  Eddie wasn't coming home.  Now, here he was on this stupid hill a few days later preparing to bombard a city that for some reason just refused to accept the obvious and surrender.  Many of the men hadn't felt this low since Anzio.  More than likely, this was the worst he'd ever felt.  They'd hit that city with artillery for several more days to come.  The southern assault worked and the line was broken, but still the soldiers holding Ascaffenburg refused to give in.  By the end of the battle the American infantrymen were fighting hand to hand, from house to house with not only soldiers but civilians who answered the edict from Berlin to fight for the Fatherland to the death.  The battle lasted ten days.  When the city was surrendered on April 3rd, it was barely anything more than a rubble heap.  By then he was just outside of the city itself and the big guns were finally silent.  The massive Schloss Johannisberg was in ruins.  To the him and his fellow soldiers, it couldn't have seemed like anything more than a waste.  Too many people had died for nothing more than the twisted ideology of psychotic tyrants.

They didn't stay in these parts long.  They moved on to Nuremburg next and on April 29 members of his division liberated the Dachau Concentration Camp.  Two days later they captured Münich.  They'd be there on V-E Day and mercifully were spared that inevitable removal to the Pacific when Japan surrendered in August.  He'd get to go home after all.  He married his fiancée shortly after he returned.  They had two children.  He went to college and would go on to open that car dealership.  But, he never really came back from Europe.  The man who left for the War in 1943 was not the man who came back to New Jersey in '45.  He would still talk to anyone he met on the street, he was still unfailingly kind, he still had a sense of humor.  But, he had demons too, demons he picked up in Sicily, Salerno, Anzio, France, and a particularly nasty one that showed up while crossing the Rhine.  They kept him distant from his loved ones, they kept him from talking about the war, they drove him to the bottle and alcoholism.  It was thanks to those demons that he died long before he should have, long before I showed up to know him and have him tell me about this hill himself.

Nearly 69 years later, I stood on that hill too.  I learned about it not from family stories or old letters.  I learned about this hill from a US Army map stuck in a report about the Battle of Ascaffenburg.  I'd been reading the report to learn about where I live, not to find my grandfather.  As fate would have it, this hill is three miles down river from where I live, overlooking a town I ride my bike through regularly and across the river from where we get our groceries.  I'd been crossing paths with my grandfather almost every day, and I'd had no idea until I saw that map.  So, in some way I thought standing on this hill and looking out over a view he'd seen too would give me a glimpse into his life.  The only smoke I saw was from chimneys.  The only sounds came from children laughing in the village below and birds in the trees above me.  The view was of a quiet countryside.  It was the same hill, but it was not the same place.  Fifteen kilometers downriver, Aschaffenburg is a bustling city.  The castle is rebuilt.  The Germany I see, the Germany I live in, is a far cry from the one my grandfather saw.

So, I lit a candle.  I lit it not only for my grandfather who I've only known in photographs, but for all the men who's pictures hang on walls or who's names are inscribed on memorials.  I lit it to thank him and them for being willing to face the bullets and the bombs and the demons to stop a terrible evil so that the view I see can be only described in one word:  peaceful.

Sixty-nine years is a long time, and then again it isn't.  It's all too easy to acknowledge the past in passing, glance at memorials, pause at fluttering flags.  But slabs of marble don't always tell the stories that need telling.  Sometimes the landscape is the better bard.  I didn't see my grandfather's ghost up there, but I felt him just for a second or maybe I heard his voice in the sounds of birds and children.  "We fought here so you could walk here.  Don't forget us."

No, Grandfather, I won't.  Until I see you on the other side, I'll meet you at all the perfect and peaceful views you've given me.

New Year, New Digs

We've been at our new location in Bavaria for just over a month now.  Despite the usual hiccups that come with moving to another country, things have been going very well for us.  This time we have a lot of support, not only from the relocation agents, but from my husband's co-workers and our new neighbors.  We have been overwhelmed and moved by the expressions of hospitality from the people in our town.  I can't begin to express how it feels to be told by someone you meet on the street that you are welcome when you're new, don't know a soul, or speak the language.  It means the world to us to be greeted with smiles and friendly handshakes when we step into the local pub or bakery.

Miltenberg, Bavaria

For most of the month, we were spared winter weather which provided a wonderful opportunity for long exploratory bike rides along the Main and into the countryside.  So far, cycling in this area has been a sheer joy and the only thing stopping me from heading out everyday is a never ending pile of laundry that won't wash itself and the knowledge that every bike ride this time of year means an hour of bike washing afterwards.  There just isn't enough daylight hours in the day.  But, the days I can get out on the bike in the sunshine are the best days.  About two weeks ago, I headed out on my first solo ride.  The weather was so perfect and the route was so beautiful, I ended up riding 50km.  If it hadn't been for the encroaching sunset, I would have kept on going.  I stopped in the city of Miltenberg for a snack, and as I strolled the cobbled old town, I couldn't believe how beautiful it was to be there and what an extraordinary experience we were having.  As I headed back home, I was the happiest I can ever remember being.  I'm pretty certain that was the best bike ride I've ever had.  It wasn't an epic ride; the route was mostly flat.  I didn't suffer; the weather was warm and the sun came out frequently.  Will I look back on that ride and remember it as a supreme challenge that I overcame?  No.  I will remember it as a perfect, beautiful, liberating experience on the bike.  It was a blessing of a ride, plain and simple.  It was the way bike riding should be.

Johannesburg Castle as seen from the cycle path in Aschaffenburg 

While we still have some loose ends to tie up around the new house and pictures still need to be hung, we're looking forward and planning for another exciting year of exploring Europe.  We hope for some Alpine hiking, some Danish cycling, and a whole lot of sightseeing in this beautiful continent.  I hope all of you have a great year ahead too.  Here's to a fantastic 2014!

Crossing the Border

The relocation to Germany is nearing its final stages.  Next week the moving company will roll up with a truck and all our possessions will be cleared out of our house in Ettelbruck.  Then, they'll hustle to get everything into the new place just before Christmas Day.  It has taken a lot of prodding and pushing to get the ball rolling on this process after The Company made its last minute decision at the end of November to move us.  Being that we're the first ones to take this assignment, several kinks needed to be worked out in the system and it seems the policy of the HR departments is to settle these things if they feel like it.  Thankfully, we have been hooked up with a relocation agency this time around.  Those guys have been absolutely marvelous through all of this.  The folks with the moving company have also been incredibly helpful and willing to go above and beyond to get us settled before the holiday.  While The Company itself hasn't been cooperative since launching this operation, we're very thankful that we have a bunch of other people in our corner who are doing everything they can to make this as painless as possible.

Of course, the most important thing to work out is finding a new place to live.  Last week, my husband and I drove over to the Frankfurt area to meet with our relocation agent.  Then, the three of us spent a good portion of the week visiting just about every rental property within our budget that was in a 30km radius of my husband's new office.  Whew.  What a wild few days that was!  Apparently, we are moving at a weird time of year (or at least that's what we kept telling ourselves).  Nearly every single property we looked at was in a terrible state of disrepair.  They were downright nasty.  We looked at a place that was designed as an office building.  It was a fabulous office building.  It would not make a great house.  I mean, you'd wake up every morning wondering if the dentist was about to walk in.  The kitchen was a sink and microwave.  Another house had a pool in the basement.  And, not only a pool, but a sauna and a tanning bed too.  Sounds pretty sweet, huh?  No.  This stuff was probably awesome in 1980, but apparently nothing had been cleaned since then.  It looked like a set from Cormac McCarthy's The Road.  Another house we looked at could have housed three families it was so huge and labyrinthine.  It also had a pool, in which a majority of the garden furniture had ended up.  The whole place was decorated with clowns, Jesus, and life-sized portraits spanning the entire life of some guy named Willy in all his afroed glory.  Another house's entire interior was painted black and burgundy.  It seems the former tenant fancied themselves living in a vampire coven?  My nightmares have plenty of material for the next several months, that is for sure.  Dear Frankfurt area real estate agents, please Google "staging" and "vacuuming."  Dear readers, I'm so sorry I have not provided pictures of these stellar properties for your entertainment.  I think I was in a state of shock and completely forgot to pull out my camera.

When all looked hopeless, we ended up in a little village in Bavaria along the banks of the River Main.  Swans bobbed around in the water and an occasional boat or barge drifted by.  It was a quiet place.  Someone pedaled by on the bicycle path in front of the house.  As we waited for the owner to meet us, the idea began to creep in that perhaps this area would be a nice place to live for the next couple of years.  I crossed my fingers as the owner opened the door and whispered, "Please don't be filthy."  It wasn't.  Oddly enough, this was the only property not being shown by a realty service and it was the only one that was spotless and freshly painted, in white.  We took it on the spot, hoping that it wasn't a hallucination.

The new place has a small garden area this time, large enough to enjoy, but not so large I'll be enslaved to it for the next two years.  We have a balcony once again, but this time when we step out we're not looking at garbage cans, walls, cigarettes, and pigeons.  We get to enjoy this view:

Even on a dreary day it's a beautiful thing to look out onto.

There isn't a bar around the corner.  Our only attached neighbor is a single, older woman.  The nearest construction site was four blocks over.  We're not on a main, high traffic road.  In fact, the only real traffic it gets are pedestrians and cyclists enjoying the green space along the river.  The house is the largest place we've lived in yet.  It has five floors!  We're still working out what to do with all the rooms, but there's no concern that we won't have space for the bikes.

The village is much smaller than any place we've lived, however.  The population is just over 4,000.  There are a couple butchers and bakeries, a few other shops, and a handful of restaurants.  There are, strangely, a lot of wineries.  A lot of people sell goods like eggs and honey from their homes.  The closest grocery store is 10 minutes away by bike.  The biggest city, Aschaffenburg, is an easy 45min by bike following the river.  It's a beautiful city with everything one needs for entertainment, cultural activities, and shopping.  The only drawback is that the house is too far from his office for my husband to cycle to work regularly.  But, thanks to the beautiful German highway network, the drive will usually be under 30 mins.  There's always going to be a trade off when you're moving under time constraints as expats.  But, he was willing to have a longer commute in order for us to be in a nicer town this time.  Being a little further out in the country will provide the opportunity for me to get around by bike again instead of on foot.  We're still going to be a single car house.  So, we'll be getting quite the well rounded experience in Europe with time living in a city and now time living in a village.  We're pretty excited to begin the new chapter.

Well,  more than likely this will be the last post for a bit.  We need need our new German residency before we'll be able to set up things like internet and cell phones.  That process usually takes about a month.  So, I'll be seeing you sometime in 2014.  Until then, Frohe Weihnachten und ein glückliches neues Jahr!

Moving On

Happy Thanksgiving to all my readers in the USA!  It's hard to believe we're back in the holiday season already.  While we are having a typical Thursday here in Lux, our thoughts are with everyone back home and especially with friends and family who we miss.  Sometimes we think that the holiday season is about the traditions, the celebrations, the to do lists, and the inevitable stress.  But, I think I can speak for all those who live far away from their homes when I say that the holidays are really all about spending time with those you love.  So, despite all the hassles that come along with this time of year, treasure those times and make the most of them.

My husband and I had a quiet Thanksgiving dinner just the two of us last Sunday night.  We are just finishing up those leftovers today.  We didn't order a turkey from the UK this year, but decided to just do chicken.  There wasn't pumpkin pie.  I didn't pull out the decorations.  Before you start thinking we've fallen into a holiday depression, let me explain.  We've been a little busy.  While normally we would like to have the usual shindig with all the trimmings, we spent most of the weekend taking pictures off the walls, sorting our belongings, and deconstructing furniture.  It turns out our tour here in Luxembourg is ending sooner than originally planned.  As things stand now, we'll be moving out of the house, out of Ettelbruck, and out of Luxembourg before the end of the year.  Instead of heading back home, however, we're going to be setting up shop a little further to the east, just outside of Frankfurt, Germany.

We're pretty excited to say the least.  While starting the house hunting process and getting the legalities settled once more feels a bit daunting, it's kind of fun to be at square one again.  We'll get to learn about a new place and culture, and new opportunities will present themselves.  I'm pleased to have more time in Europe than we thought we would.  This move means a bonus year.  Now we will have a chance to get to those places on our list we thought we'd miss.  It'll be interesting to try my hand with German too.  I mean, it can't be any worse than my French.  It's a brand new adventure and yet another chance to experience the blank slate of expat life.  My husband is the first American to be assigned to this branch of the company, so we're definitely walking into unknown territory and breaking new trail.  We certainly can't say this will be a dull experience.  This coming weekend we're off to find a new house and town to live in.  No doubt we'll be spending our Christmas break sorting the kitchen and unpacking boxes.  Once again, we're leaping into the unknown.

So, on this day when we think of all the things we're thankful for I know I have a lot to list.  It has been an amazing experience in Luxembourg.  We have learned so much about the world we live in and who we are just in these two years.  We've met and formed relationships with an incredible group of people from all over the globe, relationships that have been at the core of an overall positive experience here.  We have been to beautiful, life changing places.  We've had a lot of epiphanies.  We're so very thankful to have the opportunity to continue the experience from a new locale.  Most of all, we're thankful for the friends and family at home who have supported us on this journey.  It means a great deal to be remembered and to hear from them, especially at this time of year.  We know this chance isn't a common one and there's no way to describe how grateful we are to have been presented with it.  Thanks of course to all of you who keep reading this too.

Happy Thanksgiving and while we're at it, Wir wünschen Ein frohes Fest!

These Two Years

We've passed the two year mark of this wild adventure.  It has felt like two seconds.  It has felt like two decades.  We don't know what is coming; we do know we can never go back.  There have been moments of supreme clarity and beauty.  There have been just as many moments of frustration and regret.  The expat experience isn't something that can be written up and shared in a glossy brochure.  It can't be explained away as one thing or another.  It can't be understood completely by those who haven't been there.  And each experience is so unique, one cannot even completely share it with those who have been there either.  So, we end up not talking about it much.  Sure, you answer the questions from those at home and you commiserate with your fellows about milk prices and inexplicable bureaucratic hurdles in your country of residence.  But, the other stuff, the stuff that no one else would really get ends up being packed away, tucked in a journal, filed in that part of the brain that shapes who you become.

Two years. Two years that haven't been remotely like any two years before.  Two years that are so different from everyone else's.  Two years that you wouldn't trade for any other two on offer.  How do you explain that?  You can't.  I, more often than not, find myself speechless at their immensities.  I don't know if there will ever be a point when I can sum this up in a crisp concise way that can make any sense to anyone.  Maybe I'll just fumble with it for the rest of my life.

The good?  The good stuff goes on and on forever.  You can't list it all, but I'm going to give it a go anyway.  The best part is standing in the middle of somewhere you never thought you'd stand, looking at something so incredible there's a lump in your throat that makes you want to scream, "Look at this!  Look at this, dammit!  This is what it's about!" Or it's a conversation with someone you never would have met any other way, someone who in a huge or small way will influence your life.  It's the conversations you would never have in your hometown, big conversations about life and death; conversations that have you rethinking just about everything.  It's the moments that are absolutely terrifying, those moments where you are on the brink of becoming paralyzed with fear but realize you have to keep moving.  Those moments change you.  You don't go back to who you were before.  Then again, sometimes it's all about the calm, the calm that comes with being completely broken from everything and everyone that used to define you.  But, there's lots of good in trying to share what they're like with those you encounter in the new place.  It's the liberation that comes when you know you never have to see the same place twice, the realization that tomorrow can be completely different and even the mundane is a revelation.  The good comes when you finally can be who you want to be every single day.  It comes with the slow comprehension that this life isn't something you win at.  Each day is a gift to explore, and do, and live a life you always wanted to try.  It's immersing yourself in something you dreamed of being immersed in.  It's not about being the champion expat with the longest "been there" list, the cleanest house, the busiest social schedule, the mastery of the local dialect, the most well-rounded children, the best bizarre food stories.  That's not the good.  The good are things seen, heard, tasted, smelled, and felt that wouldn't be profound to anyone else.  The good isn't in the pages of the guidebook.  It's moments short or endless.   The good is the reason we're here.  The good makes us better.  The good makes us grateful.  The good has the power to tip the scales.

The bad?  The bad is stuff that can't be talked about.  It's not the inspiring things.  It's the stuff that has you screaming, not in joy, but alone in your room so no one hears it.  It's the stuff that you're not proud of.  It's the stuff that breaks you down to the brink of retreating into yourself.  It's the confusion, the endless, always present confusion.  It's being left, ignored, drowning in the confusion as other's walk along the river bank without even looking your way.  It's the sad understanding that you don't belong where you are and you never will no matter how long you remain there.  It's having the experience of being unwelcome all too often no matter how much you smile, apologize, and kowtow.  It's the loneliness.  It's knowing that your loved ones are going through life's ups and downs without you.  It's being unable to offer comfort in tragedy.  It's watching from a distance and being powerless to intervene as someone jumps off a cliff of a mistake.  It's missing the incredible triumphs too.  The bad is being just a cliche, a walking flag.  It's having to explain where you come from, a place that everyone already has an opinion about.  It's trying to balance that with the fact that you love your country and despite everything, you are proud of it.  It's the inner battle to reign in the incredibly angry side of you that can't stand all the things that would be classified as "idiotic/horrible/criminal/totally wrong" back home but are completely normal where you are.  It's bad knowing that no matter how you explain the bad, no one is going to take it seriously.  You're living in Europe, quit whining.  But the bad is there for a reason.  It makes us grateful too.  It teaches us lessons.  It challenges us to take it, mold it, and turn it into good.

These two years are all that and so much more.  It's been way beyond a trip to the sea, cheering at a cycle race in Flanders, delving into the caves of prehistoric civilization, climbing mountain passes in Switzerland, tasting rare cheeses in Paris, laughing with friends in centuries old pubs, visiting long lost homelands, and being moved to tears.

Being an expat is a mishmash of the crazy good, the crazy bad, and the just plain crazy.  It can't be explained in a way that makes any real sense.  But, there is one thing that I can say clearly about these two years.  I know that they have changed my life, they are vital, they are priceless.  I cannot imagine nor would I want a life in which they didn't happen.  Hopping on that plane over two years ago to take that plunge is one of best decisions we ever made.  They are our two, painful, gorgeous, profound years.  And that's that.