OnBlueUnderCanvas

And we’re off! 2012 came a-bustin’ through, sweeping me into the middle of January. It’s been nonstop! Kirk’s family (plus G-ma!) flew in on the 29th and celebrated New Year’s with us. They left on the 5th, the same day I – even though I forgot which airline I booked – took off for Wisconsin for a week to visit my family.

Now, I’m back in SD and things have quieted down. It’s time to say ‘adieu’ to 2011:

January. Awwh heck. We moved again! from snowy Michigan to sunny San Diego.

Our move doubled as cross-country road trip

with stops in Colorado to hit the slopes at Vail and A-Basin

road-side photo-ops,

and a night in Las Vegas to strike it rich.

February. We experienced plenty of gorgeous 70 degree days our first month in SoCal.

Between bike rides, surfing exploits and afternoons on the beach, we hatched a plan to start our own photography business. San Diego Home Photography was born.

By the end of the month we had landed our first shoot.

March. I made Kirk a double-layer cake from scratch for his 27th birthday.

We went hiking through Cleveland National Forest and I fell in love with my Vibram Fivefinger shoes. Thanks to them, now I run for fun. Seriously.

April/May. During the spring, a few more real estate shoots trickled in.

Kirk’s parents visited us from Michigan for a week. We took them to the San Diego Zoo.

At the end of April, Kirk and I made 10-day trip to Costa Rica to see Natalia and David,

to meet their daughter, Sofía,

and do a little surfing in Manuel Antonio.

June. Kirk’s younger sister Maureen flew out for a visit. We took her on a grand wildlife tour starting with the Point Loma tide pools,

Seal Beach,

and lastly the Safari Park.

Near the end of June, Kirk and I headed east for a few days of camping in the Anza-Borrego Desert.

July. We had two of our largest shoots this month. Incidentally, one of them proved the most dangerous as well. Thanks to a faulty outdoor propane fireplace, Kirk came milliseconds away from a human torching.

August/September. I made the big decision to write a book. To embark on this project, I took a hiatus from California and spent seven weeks back in Wisconsin.

I chatted away many afternoons with my Omi. We talked about her past, how she met my Opa, and their immigration to the United States.

In addition to writing, I squeezed in lots of activities with my family including Summerfest,

pool time,

and a night downtown Milwaukee.

October. My parents and I flew to Germany to celebrate the 50th anniversary of my great aunt and uncle.

The party served as an extended family reunion too. Here’s me and my second cousin Britta,

and my mom with her first cousins.

Besides the party, we sight-seed ourselves out. We toured Bremen,

gaped at the Cologne Cathedral,

cruised the Rhein,

explored Koblenz,

and drank lots of wine. (And my Mom and I went to Paris too! The posts are coming soon!)

November. Kirk and I tried our hands at the export business: shipping motorcycles to Costa Rica. Will it be profitable? We’re still waiting to find out…

December. The holidays. It’s a tradition in Kirk’s family to go out for dinner on Christmas Eve. We ate and enjoyed the sunset at Pacifica Del Mar, a seafood restaurant with an ocean view.

The Berrymans flew in to San Diego to spend the end of the holidays with us. Together we said goodbye to 2011 and welcomed in 2012. ☼

When was the last time you took a gondola ride? Did you have a pair of skis clutched in your gloved hands? Were you on the edge of your seat, excited as all get out to reach the top of the mountain?

Gondola rides get my adrenaline pumping. Know what else gets me excited? Knowing a secret.

“Gondola number 17 has a glass bottom,” whispers my cousin Britta.

“Only 17? Why not the others?” I ask.

Britta shrugs. “It’s special.”

We’re waiting in line to get on gondola number 17. But we’re not actually in line, we’re off to the side.

“Can we do this? Just jump in line to get on 17?” I ask.

“Normally they don’t like it,” says Kati, my cousin Patrick’s girlfriend. “But I work here. We’re allowed.” She grins.

We count the cars as they come around. Twelve … thirteen. They’re sooo slow … fourteen. Come on. Fifteen.

All of a sudden, a bunch of boys rush up. Sixteen goes by. They flank us. “Seventeen! We have to get on seventeen!” they say to each other. They know.

Seventeen swings around. Britta and I stride toward the door. A couple kids manage to scurry in front of us. They quickly sit down on the glass viewing platform and spread their arms out in an attempt to save seats for the rest of their cronies.

I walk around and plop myself right in between them. Britta grabs the other side. We look across at each other and smile triumphantly. Nice try, punks.

Look at the glee all over my dad’s face. And he wasn’t even looking through the glass bottom.

Gondolas are fun. Even without the skiing.

By now you’ve probably figured out that I’m not riding this gondola to the top of a snow-capped mountain. Actually, I’m on my way to look at flowers.

For 2011, the city of Koblenz received the honor of hosting the famous Budesgartenshau, Germany’s national horticulture show. Some of the exhibits were located in the city center, but the largest exhibit was located across the Rhein river on top of Ehrenbreitstein mountain.

Sure, a flower exhibition isn’t the adrenaline-pumping thrill I expect and the end of a gondola ride. But that’s not fair to the flowers. They put on a good show. There were acres of them; so colorful and gorgeous. And a handful of them actually freaked me out a little. Seriously, what the heck is this?

I didn’t even know half of these plants existed. So! Many! Flowers! The designers of the show must’ve anticipated flower fatigue. How thoughtful of them to add space-oddessy (?!) chairs to the walking paths.

Besides the flower show, the top of Ehrenbreitstein afforded a sweeping view of Koblenz and the Deutsches Eck. The “German Corner” is a pointy piece of land formed by the Mosel river joining the Rhein.

This was big. The Deutsches Eck is like Germany’s version of America’s Four Corners. Must have a photo of this. Or two. Or three.

Look at these parents of mine. I don’t know who told the joke, but finally! Non-camera smiles! (Factoid: their 29th wedding anniversary was just a few days prior to this.)

Down we go. ☼

If you’ve read this, you know about the relaxing days my parents and I spent on a vineyard in Germany. And this, gives you a taste of how much I drank on said vineyard.

The stay at the vineyard, in fact, was a bonus. The reason we decided to travel to Germany in the first place was to celebrate this:

The 50th Wedding Anniversary of my great-uncle and great-aunt, Jürgen and Marianne. (Jürgen is my Omi’s brother.)

Their children, Gudrun and KarlHeinz, organized the big bash. It was so well-planned and so fancy! I felt like I was at an actual wedding reception.

There was dancing,

a four-course dinner (The trio of mini desserts was my favorite!),

my name “in German,”

a couple of random people,

(kidding, those are my ‘rents)

fireworks for the guests of honor,

and even an opera singer!

Relatives from all over Europe and from the US (that’s me and the ‘rents!) traveled to Germany to join in the festivities. Since not everyone spoke German, translations of the speeches were projected onto a screen in English, French and Dutch.

And there’s another technological feat:

Omi unfortunately could not make the trip to Germany to celebrate her brother’s anniversary. Even though she wasn’t actually there, thanks to Skype, she still could attend!

She sat at the head table.

Lots of people came by to say hello. Here is my second cousin Patrick and his girlfriend Kati having a chat with Omi.

She was even introduced to the entire party.

I sat at a table with my great-aunt Christa (Omi’s and Jürgen’s sister) and her husband, my great-uncle Heinz.

On the other side of the table sat Dieter (Christa’s and Heinz’s son), his wife Ingrid, and my parents (involved in what is clearly some riveting conversation).

QUIZ: How is Dieter related to my mom?

Ahhh, made your brain hurt, didn’t I?

They’re cousins. Dieter, my mom, Gudrun & Karlheinz are all first cousins.

Now, Britta here is Dieter’s daughter, so that makes me and Britta second cousins.

And here’s the Italian opera singer again. He was fantastic. I wish you could have heard him sing, Omi!

The party was an amazing reunion of far-flung relatives. Just a handful spoke fluent English, so my mom and I spoke with whoever we could in our hack-job German. It might not have been pretty, but it was wonderful to be able to understand each other.

When’s the next big party, Gudrun? Let me know–I’l be there. ☼

Does this look like a rowdy crowd to you?

Hmm… not exactly.

It looks like is a polite dinner party, on a unassuming deck, overlooking a vineyard in the Nähe winegrowing region of southwest Germany.

And if we look closer, we see this:

A lovely bottle of Gut Hermannsberg riesling. But one bottle of wine, of course, was no where near enough for a dinner of five people. But two? Surely two would have been sufficient. But just two? Gudrun and Tomas had other ideas.

We started drinking. The sun went down.

And looked pretty on the house.

Specifically the window.

Oh and before the sunset, there was me smiling for this photo:

By the time dusk rolled around, we were in the midst of a rockin’ good time. Gudrun had served a delicious dinner of salmon, potatoes and roasted vegetables.

Periodically during the meal, Gudrun would look at Tomas and say something like, “Oh we simply must have that bottle of such-and-such from France!” or Tomas would say, “Wait, I have something…” And each of them would scurry off and procure yet another bottle from the ‘Maurer Schatzkammer.’

Tomas and Gudrun have wines from just about everywhere. And they have (quite) a few bottles of the stiffer variety too.

This resulted in a parade of wine and cognac bottles across our dinner table.

In addition to the first bottle of Gut Hermannsberg riesling, we also drank a

• German pinot noir
• French ‘port’ (hey–it’s in quotes, you wine snobs, I know a real port can only be from Portugal)
• Italian ‘port’ (stings, doesn’t it?)
• “Tomas & Gudrun” cognac (you can’t refuse liquor when you know the people who’s names are on the label)

If I didn’t know any better, I’d think my relatives were trying to get me schnockered. (And yes, that word, in its present tense, is a real word.)

All of these bottles all over the table wouldn’t have been a big deal, if the wine wasn’t so darn good.

By this time, we were slowing down. I was not (thank goodness) that I recall (oh dear) acting too weird by this point. But if I was, then lucky for me that more food came ’round…

Cheese plate!

I LOVE cheese. When you’re feeling tipsy actually kind of drunk, eating a fancy cheeseboard (not the board) is one of my favorite ways to nip a hangover in the bud.

But the bottle parade was not over. Tomas went and dug up this beast:

Scary. (As if we I needed more alcohol.)

But I just had to try this 15-year old bottle of cognac. (By the way, doesn’t it look much older?) And so, the cork was popped.

That did me in. Early the next morning, Gudrun, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and dressed in running pants and tennis shoes, was ready to play adventue guide for us up and down the hills of the vineyard. (How can I compete with someone who lives and works on a vineyard? It’s just not possible. Read: it’s her job to drink wine.)

Are you coming? they asked. My parents, the early-morning-every-day-no-matter-the-weather walkers they are, joined Gudrun for some lovely fresh air. I think not, I said.

No sir. On that particular morning, I did not care for fresh air. I preferred that my head stay in bed.

However, it could have been much worse. It was a bit of a headache, and nothing else.

And for that, I thank the cheese plate. ☼