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Italy or Austaly?
After taking Italian lessons for the past 8 months were my Italian lessons completely unnecessary for our travels in Italy?
In conversations during our travels we have often expressed our openness to new areas and towns. While in Chamonix an Italian lady who worked at the hotel suggested a mountain area in North Eastern Italy, Salva del Val Gardena. She spoke of a beautiful Shangri-La valley in the midst of the Dolomites, her favorite part of Italy. Reaching the valley one cold, raining afternoon hungry and without a hotel chosen we were perplexed by her claims. Daniela had claimed she loved it more then Chamonix and it was a hidden gem. During those original moments we questioned her sanity as well as our own for listening to a total stranger. Rather then simply drive on we grabbed lunch, talked and decided to just stay for one night rather then trek onward to another unknown location.
After finding a very special hotel and once the clouds parted merely a few hours later, we were left with amazing views of the valley under the mountains. Directed to a nature reserve in a remote corner of the town we found beauty and serenity. This corner of the world although a vacation destination was not so well known or invaded with tourists. The perplexing part is that it was not invaded with Italians per say. The feeling as well as language for that matter, was that of Austria. In stores you would be greeted in German and then counted your change in Italian. The signs and menus reflected duality in both languages. On our second day we were gifted the opportunity to view a town celebration started at the Catholic Church, see picture – purely Austrian garb and music. After seeing the ceremony our daughter insisted on purchasing a dress that matched those that were worn. As she calls it her, “Italy” dress.
The “Italian” dress
There is a deep seeded history of this region and their connection to Tyrol, southern Austria, from which it was stripped away even as recent as WW I an incident that was disputed up until as recent as the 1990’s. The two Italian provinces of Trento (Trentino) and Bolzano (South Tyrol) are an autonomous Italian province, part of Italy but under their own rule, mystery solved. There are great debates about the eventual return to Austria. But for now from the view of an outsider the region contains the best of both countries – natural beauty, great pasta and apple strudel.
Big “wishes”
View of the vally
Liberating Minds and Sunglasses
Most people have been there at one time or another, a personal item just walks away. We all know material items are not what is important but…
Our trail has led us from Chamonix France to booking one night at Lake Maggiore before heading past Milan for a short visit with a friend. Upon recommendations we head to Riva del Garda on the northern point of Lake Garda in the northern Italian lake region. Lake Garda is the largest lake in Italy and Riva de Garda has mountains on the lake. The best of both worlds – truly blessed with another breathtaking location.
Upon waking and preparing to exodus for a morning saunter, a review of the mental daily checklist for beach or mountains and in Riva De Garda Italy both pertain: glass water bottle, sunscreen, hats, wallet, and my sunglasses… (pause) no sunglasses. The second they came into my awareness I could sense there was a disturbance in the force and that they were now released into the abyss. The previous night I jettisoned them in the water bottle holder on the elliptical machine and made a mental memo to grab them upon completion. Good luck with that, before child I could replay exhaustive details of mundane information such as what I worn the previous week. Postnatal memory is filled with more important items like did we brush our teeth and where are everyone’s jackets. Oh, and yes a size 4T hot pink North Face fleece was left on our brief Luxembourg wine escapade (we can blame that on the wine).
Hike destination the Bastione on the hill
Mid Hike
View from above
It was speedy High Intensity Interval Training at the drop-in to the hotel’s open-air gym the previous evening. Even thought I wanted to, I could not imagine that they made it through the night unscathed. They were gone and at this point two factors came into play.
1. Scorpios are natural detectives.
2. I am intense and obsessive sometimes to a fault. Anyone with who has ever trained Martial Arts with my me can attest. Review, observe, analyze – repeat, repeat, and repeat.
Let the games begin:
The hotel was mostly occupied by a retirement crowd, taking a look around during the dinner the evening before, I was the youngest adult and Rick 20 years my senior was the 2nd youngest if that gives you any clue. Are these people really using the gym? Well maybe, I saw them devour their 4 course dinners that we were all to stuffed but to share a dessert amongst the 3 of us.
The hotel itself was run very well and even the cleaning staff was friendly. But again using my Spidey senses I don’t think it was them. So, wanting to see the good in everyone around me, I left a nice note on the machine in case the offender came back and had a change of heart, mentioning the sentimentality that the item held but, the name brand stamped on the side could have been just too tempting.
After checking the people at the hotel the morning and on the promenade during our morning trot my attention was drawn to face after face. Most of which were looking down at my trusty companion who is still wearing her pink crown daily and either smiling or calling her Princessa thus encouraging her to continue with the tiara as everyone is complying with her assumption that she is truly royalty. Nevertheless, apparently my new pair, given this year as a Mother’s Day present are not popular. Nada, no one had the same pair. But, we are hitting the sweet spot before the family summer season in Italy so the blue hairs may not be up on the latest fashions. Here the circle comes back again. Urgh.
Afternoon – returning to the scene of the crime. As I turn the corner with bated breath, I notice more dirty towels in the used bin, I see my sign… and that is it. An internal optimist I decide to check just one more time in the morning but before going to bed someone, not normally akin to carrying her own cash, asked if they could have a big money in the morning. Contemplating what her teen years could be like, I inquired why pray tell she would need such money. “Mommy because tomorrow I want to buy you a new pair of sunglasses and you said the pair you lost were expensive.” Holy moly the issue became not one of lost sunglasses but a parenting FAIL. My actions were reflecting not that of the unimportance of material items, she was portraying my obsessiveness with that of emphasis on the item itself. Thankfully I have a very verbal and compassionate child, that taught me a lesson as well as expressed her translation of the events. I gave her 10 Euro in the morning for her sunglass fund and decided not to check the gym again. Ok, so I checked the gym unbeknownst to her. No sunglasses, but at least they are not important. 🙂
Rainbow Day 1
Lock Bridge
Rainbow Day 2
Illegal Bathing Suits and Shaky Cable Cars
The French have lots of nude beaches and topless sunbathing on beaches is readily acceptable. But too much clothing? Who knew that was actually be illegal!
We exited from the South of France a few days ahead of schedule, as if we have a schedule, before our rental had ended. The winds changed and we felt the urge to proceed onward. But to where? Good question, one that we keep asking daily for we are now truly into the living wherever we are portion, some hankerings and ideas but no reservations and no firm plans.
We decided to head north through France and then over the Alps. One the way we decided to stop at Aix Les Bain in the Rhône-Alpes region in southeastern France. It was used even in the Roman Empire for the healing powers of its baths. Well, from our experiences some of the energy from that time period still remains. We only stopped for one night after originally reserving 2. We experienced several odd issues with the hotel in which we were to stay. We have traveled quite a bit in France on this trip as well as prior and of course many, many times Rick has vacationed there. The bathing suit issue was a new one.
We waited for an hour into the early twilight hours for a seniors water aerobics class to end so we could get our 3 year old the pool time we promised her earlier in the day and did not want to renege on. Rick entered the pool as a few elderly ladies glared, looked shocked, and thus reported his pool garb as apparently disgracefully inappropriate. What was he wearing? A speedo? No, the opposite. He was wearing a normal shorts type bathing suite, liner and all. The guardian of the pool pulled Rick aside to inform him of his inappropriate behavior. There is a law on the books that men are not permitted to wear suits that could possibly be worn outside of the pool. Apparently, from what I have researched this is due to an attempt to keep outside debris from entering the pool. But really, a man could be wearing a skin tight sweat collecting suit all day under his shorts but as long as the tush of the outside of the suit is not seeing daylight then all is well!
After that fiasco and more at a hotel that resembled the shining. We drove to Chamonix-Mont Blanc, France. Home of France’s highest point in the Alps as well as its largest, but much receded, glacier (thank you global warming). Nevertheless, the experience was spectacular. Our amazing, breathtaking pictures do not do it justice. Our original stop turned into 6 days, 5 nights. On our first full day we took a train up to the massive Glacier. Once on top Ilaria was thrilled to be taking a cable car/gondola down to the Glacier itself. In theory it was a beautiful ideal. When a person is single there is a different perspective on life, death, and immortality but, as a parent those thoughts linger on that of your offspring.
Once on the car we proceeded to descend literally straight down, only to discover mid-trip that there is a pause in the route in which you remain suspended for minutes motionless as the others board and disembark from the stations. For those who have had the pleasure of riding such carts, you know that in the petite carts the smallest shift causes the cart to sway. Even an excited 40 pounds looking out can transfer the weight. Parents wondering thoughts are one thing, but when a little voice bellows questions about when the cart falls how they can hold on as it goes head over feet crashing into the cliff and trees below somehow it does not cause the guardians to chuckle in the least. Obviously we endured.
It is amazing what mountain air can do to the energy of a 42 inch tall being. Exhilarated on other hikes high in the heightened elevations she pressed forward, no, she ran up and down the mountains. Nature in its purest forms!
Hot and Cold: Hypothermia in 90F weather
The tourist brochure cautions not to go into the water in the Gulf of St. Tropez up to the neck due to the chance of hyperthermia. Shockingly the water was bone chilling but more shocking was the heat wave that overtook the South of France with record temperatures for June in the 90’s.
In choosing our June local we took into account two factors. #1 was that the weather would be somewhat moderate, low 80’s, and #2 it would be quieter because the French do not begin summer holiday until Bastille Day, the beginning of July. Wrong and wrong. We hit a major heat wave which took temperatures for a week into the 90’s hiding us from the midday sun but, no way to escape the stifling heat and lack of wind. The water was not a shelter either, hitting the beach at 4:00 was baking but the water was akin to the polar bear plunge each time without the jet stream of the waters catching up to the early summer that arrived.
Together, my little adventurer and I discovered a somewhat hidden oasis at a national park with greenery and cliffs that led down to tidal pools that had warmed up nicely due to the stifling lack of breeze. There we could explore marine life and unite ourselves with nature in the purest form. Our little earth keeper was not satisfied by the plethora of cigarette butts that lined the picnic area and being that she is not allowed to touch them had me pluck each one from Pacha Mama (mother earth) as she sang a song apologizing for the atrocity that people had created in what she considered her very sacred place.
Butt out!
Our private oasis
Our family together spent time in ways such as that to strike a dichotomy from the beachy, shore vibe. We took a day trip to Port Gimaud to rent a boat and weave our way thought the lovely canals, like Venice without the massive crowds. Our adventure was to the town of Gimaud to visit the ancient walls and fortress with a sweeping view high above the Gulf and surrounding areas. It is no surprise that there is a Rue de Templars, a small street dedicated to the lore of the Templars who were once inhabitants. At each of our visits thus far since arriving in Europe Ila is transfixed by churches and cathedrals, the energy and the beauty of these old gems leads us to plead with her to exit at the appropriate time.
Navigating the canals
The Fortress in Grimaud
Lovely canals
Church in Grimaud
Grimaud
The intention of our explorations was to connect ourselves and our family in a distinct manner with divine intentions. Seeing life through the eyes of a child, unfiltered and pure allow for capabilities beyond the higher insights of a spiritual teach or guru, a true connection to spirit through nature and energy. There is a woman who spreads love through the world by going around hugging. We have our own angel who by walking through the town with her sparkle crown has brought smiles to more faces than one can imagine, storekeepers, tourists, as well as on duty police. Happiness runs in a circular motion!
Viva la France???
The French love France, the French language, and all things French. This is a blessing and a curse. Sainte Maxime is a tourist destination mostly for the French, German, Netherlands, Belgium, English, and Swiss but, the French do not care, for the most part it is all-French, all the time. Experiential yes, submerging yes, and a bit puzzling. The times that Rick and I have traveled here before to Ste. Maxime, in the south of France across from St. Tropez, as well as other towns on the Mediterranean, we were new loves eager for two long weeks away. Alone together as a nice reprieve, being in own world somewhat, surrounded by the lovely French language. Sweetly we strolled to romantic meals eating at restaurants and our hotel for petite dejeuner. The last time was 2006, globalization and the world has changed in on many levels in 8 years. But in France, the nationalism that was created during the French Revolution remains strong, maybe to a fault. On a small and personal level it is interesting to experience but a worldly outsider may be quick to observe how in this modern world, where we are ALL so interdependent, France may need to modernize their thoughts for the sake of keeping their nation strong.
All French Products marked as En France
Dora La French explorer
Menus – ALL in French Labels – ALL in French Dora the Explorer Book (created to teach Americans kids Spanish) – ALL in French TV – ALL in French or dubbed in French, yes even crappy American TV Our intention with our experiences this time around is to really live each culture to the extent that we can, eyes wide open, not as a tourist. This town is notorious for their markets with various small vendors. Almost each morning we go to the covered market for fresh everything to eat and on Thursdays there is a huge open-air market for all foods Provence,, just as the French do. In the A.M. prepared, market bags and euros in hand while preparing to convert the metric system (come on US convert already) and arranging words carefully for the numerous transactions.
Bountiful outdoor market
Fresh baguette
Outdoor weekly market
The days of French in high school and one semester of college are now long in the rearview and our travels since 2007 led us to Mexico, Peru, Chile, and Costa Rica – sans French. We did go to Belgium a few years ago but due to the battle between the French and Flemish sides there are lots of English as a middle ground. Here there is little middle ground. Loving the French language, the French are proud of it and expect that you talk to them in French. Necessity has driven the French out of me. Very proud of my first interaction, all in French and voilà, fresh yogurt and eggs to prepare for breakfast. A note to the inexperienced French traveler, it is key to first come to them with French words, whatever you have, if you make a sad attempt, but an attempt nonetheless, then will try to work with you and maybe petite English or just mime!
Day trip to St. Tropez
Boat to St. Tropez
Early morning private beach!
Grand amour (pic by Ila)
It has been a bit of a culture shock going from the Swedes who are taught from a very young age to speak English. Personally, after a week I have had some complete conversations in French. Of course that is mainly the French person conversing with me in detail, as they love to do, I rapid fire translate and comprehend while returning short, concise sentences that can be recognized reasonably straightforward. One habit I have to be conscious of, being out of practice, is my reply of Si instead of Oui for yes, which everyone is more than happy to correct me. But I jest, the days of Americans perceiving the French as rude, and vice versa, are long gone. They are and have been very, very friendly to us and kind in many ways.
Our lovely apt
Our apt living room
Pieuvre
The other factor, we have no Internet in the apartment – cold turkey. The conscious decision has been made not to get data on our cell phones in order to keep us on the ground and in the present. Did you ever leave your phone home or have the battery die? Yeah, like that, except all the time. Slowly I have stopped twitching. What about when I need to know the French word for octopus to tell the balloon man for our daughter? Anyway the beautiful Mediterranean temperature and sun keep us out-of-doors until bedtime.None of these factors matter much during the day but, when it is bedtime for the babe we are in apartment with what I now see as a the gift of time to read and write, no internet distractions, and each other. Just two, somewhat older, loves enjoying a reprieve in our own little world.
Rick puts his foot down
We neatly and tightly packed our rental car in Malmo. It is best for our travels to choose the most compact car that also meet our cargo needs, the French squeeze cars into tinier parking spots that one can imagine (maybe that is why the ordered trains that did not fit, they just assumed that they could squeeze them into the station) so we must be prepared. When motoring in Europe it is key to have all of your baggage tucked away neatly as to not tempt someone to try and take a peak inside looking for valuables. The baggage cover for the back of the wagon must close cleanly so it initial made for several attempts to jigsaw puzzle the pieces just so.
As we set out we seemed to have thought of everything:
- Snacks
- Luggage
- Water
- GPS
- Toys and Games
- Maps of Denmark, Germany, and France
The best laid plans… We thought of almost everything that is. As much as we know the layout of the downtown of Malmo, the surrounding areas we have never had the need to master. Told by all, just follow the signs to the Oresund Bridge to Denmark alas there are no such signs. We asked people, several people, and it became comical much like a practical joke bit. One person points us one direction and tells us to proceed forward and look for signs – no signs. Next, ask another and turn the completely opposite direction, search for signs once again, all for naught. Three passes, several people, and many minutes later we found the bridge hoping that was not an omen for our departure and impending travel onward!
Prior to leaving Sweden one of the students at the seminar said, “Oh, so you have all the places mapped out where you are stopping as you drive down to the Mediterranean?” The answer – a big NO! We had some knowledge and ideas of what could be interesting to see but left it to our moods and our rumps to make a decision where to stop and where to rest. All we knew upon starting was our end point a substancial distance away from Scandinavia – the South of France in Sainte Maxime directly across the bay from St. Tropez. Next question, “Why drive?” We knew that we have to start and end in Sweden, the place where we received our extended visa to allow us in Europe for over three months. Another factor is that we did not want to be burdened buy planning our flights in advance, freestyle for us.
Our first leg was across Demark. Most people, myself included are unaware that Demark consists of 407 islands and a mainland connected to Germany, integrated with a connection of crisscrossing of bridges and ferries. We opted for a route of highway and bridges across and then down into Germany. On our first day we stopped when we got tired of driving and pulled off the road to a quaint, lovely town at a Park like hotel in Bad Falingsbostel, Germany. Day 2, our power day, we plowed to Trier, Germany. Trier has many ancient Roman ruins; another fact some do not realize is that German and France have amazing and well-preserved ancient Roman ruins (with fewer crowds then Rome). Day 3 we enjoyed lots of Roman Ruins before taking an almost lovely drive down through the Mosel Valley stopping leisurely in Luxingborg to enjoy a glass of notorious local white wine. Now, when saying almost there were few factors, a picturesque town outside of Trier that we stopped for lunch and then 45 minutes we spent hunting up and down for a gas station, backtracking to get it and then proceeding forward. The Mosel wine on the river in Luxemburg was blissfully until a bit down the way afterwards, the road stopped, no warning, backtracking us once again – Buzz kill.
We ended that night in Nancy, France, much larger then we anticipated but with a massive square lots of gold gild or as our daughter called it, of course, fancy Nancy. Day 4 continuing forth we stopped in Macon, France on our way to Orange, France. Orange is a picturesque village, again with ancient Roman ruins but much more intimate of a place. The Roman amphitheater is breathtaking and awe inspiring examining the architecture and longevity of the master masons’ work. Day 5 our final stop Arles, France massive, overrun with tourists. Our highlight was eating in Van Gogh’s café and visiting the hospital where he was detained after cutting his ear off. Our dining companion happened to be wearing her sunflower headband and happily waved at all of the Asian tourists taking pictures of her at the café.
If all of the road time seems a bit overwhelming please not that one significant difference when motoring in Europe is their rest stops. Being from New Jersey I equate a rest stop with dirty fast food and grungy toilets. Sorry Jersey, but we all know that is true. In Europe it is dissimilar. Some if not all have nice cafes, real food, and sit down restaurants with servers, oh and some expensive cars and well dressed people. The Europeans travel a bit different from us Americans. Personally I have memories of powering though drives up and down the coast to get to a destination. They stop, have a coffee and pastry, relax, and chitchat slightly removed from a rumbling highway. No dodging in and out of the bathroom and grabbing something nearly edible to eat in the car. It fascinates me, quite a different pace. Also much to a child’s delight almost all have a kids area or playground of some sort. On our power day of driving Adults delirious and kid enthralled that she got to go to so many playgrounds in one day. As Ilaria and the Europeans can tell you it is all about perspective.
After 5 days – Nous Arrivons – We Arrive. We are resting comfortably in the South of France at our apartment rental intended for three weeks, the only set plans we have left on our excursion. Suggestions welcomed in the comments section of the blog.
Case of the Missing Case
A big stir was caused in Malmo during our ALMOST uneventful, in a good way, last week in Sweden. Vitamins and supplements until recently were very difficult to purchase in Sweden. Even today the stores are limited and the sales person cannot speak to the products at all, it is forbidden.
Upon our return to Malmo we were staying at a hotel for the first 2 days before returning to our rental apartment. The hotel itself was lovely as was the room. Problem #1 on the first night – our room was above the bar and there was a jazz band playing below. The stand up bass, albeit great, was a deep boom that penetrated until after 12. Parents out there know how precious keeping a child sleeping at night can be. Our concern was the first night was a Thursday and although mild-mannered, on the weekends it is always “Swedes gone Wild”. When we were told there was going to be a DJ the following night and we were close to the Little Square, party central for bars, we opted for a move to another room. But the real trouble did not begin until the next AM…
Problem #2 – Upon waking Rick realized in our haste to abscond to the next chamber he had inadvertently left his vitamins and supplements in the drawer of the last. Calling the front desk we were told that there was nothing listed in the log for the housekeeping and so we must wait until a reasonable hour to contact the current occupants to see if the items remained intact. No such luck, the vitamins were not there, per the current resident of the room. Disappearing pills really? Some were in an unmarked vitamin box so it is speculation that someone thought that they hit the proverbial lottery. Back and forth with housekeeping and a trip by the front desk and Rick to view the room contents, as well as a sheepish, robe covered Swed and his fetching mistress in bed, nothing turned up. Apologies to the loving couple but from the looks of it they were in the afterglow. We credit the staff of the hotel for their insistence with house keeping and perseverance (along with notable perspiration) that the items were returned over an hour later. It was tenuous at best for all parties involved.
Turning Torso in the fog
Uncle Dan
Another great park near the turning Torso
Family Portrait
If you ever take a trek to Malmo, or Copenhagen for that matter, you would be amiss to not experience the remarkable waterfront architecture including the Turning Torso, the tallest building in Scandinavia which features a 90° twist, unreal, really. The waterfront area is a created beachfront and with a truly nautical feel where Sweds congregate to enjoy the water, get some sun, and socialize. A visit to the area places one into a completely different sensation than the city.
Rick has taught seminars in Malmo for his student Dan Johnson since 1989. My attendance was greatly missed due to the fact that Junior High was in session. It was a difficult time negotiating with parents to let me out after 10:30 let alone cross-continental travel. Nonetheless, Dan is one of Rick’s longest students, a dedicated martial artist and instructor, and a close friend of ours. Plus, a very focused training partner that I enjoy training with because of his focus and concentration on the details of each motion. The difficulty each year is to expose elements of each of the arts, a session for Jun Fan, Muay Thai, Silat, and Kali. The seminar was filled with familiar faces that we enjoy seeing each year and their improvement and dedication makes it an enjoyable place to instruct.
Planning our route ahead we have made the decision to rent a car in Sweden and wonder our way down to our rental in the South of France about the distance from New Jersey to Florida. Three for the road once again!
Denmark – Think before you drink
What do you think would be the reaction in the US if someone went to a restaurant and were charged $3-$4 a glass for tap water? Not from Fiji, a glacier, no bubbles just the sink.
We are seasoned travelers and diners as well as kind and considerate to servers and tip well per the country’s customs. An issue that occurs internationally and nationally is our preference not to drink soda, juice, or milk. Water is the beverage of choice and being Green do not order bottled water whether from a glass or plastic when there is no need in industrialized counties. (Can you tell it is a pet peeve?) We do not drink normal water to save $, thank goodness, because would you believe that in Denmark they CHARGE for tap water. Not a buck or two, sometimes equaling to $3-$4!!! We remember this from past visits but it is still stunning. When we asked one waitress she stated, “I know it is old-fashioned and stupid.” What is the recourse you say? Order a glass or wine or beer? But we still want water also after lots of walking! In one instance we ordered aperitifs and then we still got hit!
After an enjoyable stay in Malmo we decided to head to Copenhagen for a few days to enjoy some sites. Upon originally deciding to have a child our intention was to not slow down our very active travels at times, lots of walking and touring. The child would have to keep up. Foresight could not predict that we would be the ones trying to keep up with the lassie even after over 8 miles of walking throughout a long day. How did she do it you ask? She is 3 almost 4 and has not done the stroller thing for over a year so one must observe the experts, New Yorkers. On our last trip to NYC they were lined up at Central Park – scooters. In anticipation her younger model was upgraded to the 5-11 year olds’ model with intuitive tilt and lean steering. At first it seemed a bit of a challenge to coordinate. Yeah, no. She is zipping and zooming around, left leg then right, one leg in the air Ballet style, no hands on her tippy toes, and squatting. Like a youthful pup we have to run her now and again to tire her out and get her to trot at a leisurely pace!
Learning right away from these first few weeks, as we thought we would, some sites would not interest a wee one so it is an art to have fun AND experience culture. We spent one morning on a train trip to a town just outside of Copenhagen famous for it’s Viking Museum and inlet, Roskilde. Enjoying the tradespeople outside making rope, a kiln, shields, and boats but at waterside deciding to forgo actually entering the museum! Instead we jettisoned to another super cool playground just next to it and enjoyed the view of the water. Back in Copenhagen the sights that interested all of us were the Danish National Museum (they have a children’s museum section) and the famous Tivoli Gardens.
You can see from the photos that Ilaria was thrilled when she was chosen to be in a show at Tivoli. She was not as stoic as she looks, hyper-focused is her modus operandi, after all the entire show was in Danish! Seeing it time and time again now on occasions where one would expect visual jubilation she assess the situation and later recounts her enjoyment of what took place. Some people have mentioned the disappointed of their personal experience seeing the famous “Lille Havfrue”, literally: “the Little Mermaid” a statue based on the Hans Christian Anderson story. Rick and I had seen the sculpture prior but, believe you me, Ilaria thought it was fantastic exclaiming, “I loved, loved, loved it!” As the sea foam continues to form at the harbor, as in the legend, it lives on in the heart of children.
Next we are heading back to Malmo for more time as well as Rick’s Martial Arts seminar.
Hitting the Ground Running (and Crashing)
The Danes and Swedish are reserved. Speaking softly and calmly is expected, do not do anything to draw attention to yourself, so demonstrating strong emotion in public is not socially acceptable. Conversely, traversing the brief train ride from Copenhagen airport to Malmo, Sweden just across the bridge there was an anomaly and my visceral response was deemed as appropriate. But more about that later…
Our first stop on this quest is Malmo, Sweden as Rick calls it “his second home”. It is a city of 303,873 people located just across the Øresund Bridge (one of the 7 Modern Wonders of the World) from Copenhagen, Denmark. The city is refined yet understated and in more recent years super chic and hip. For us as a family, and when we were just a couple, it is very effortless to feel at home and tranquil. We know the layout of the town and the culture, as well as our favorite coffee houses. Our friend Dan, one of Rick’s longest students, has a martial arts academy in Malmo in which Rick will give a seminar once again later this month. Dan greeted us at the train station and escorted us to a friend of his apartment that we are renting in an ideal location in town.
Almost instantaneously we get into our vibe and groove. Hitting the grocery story in the most modern mall in town sums up some of the aspects that I personally love about Malmo and Sweden, it is “Green” in lots of ways and does it in an esthetically beautiful and effortless way. The shopping center has a living wall consisting of lovely greenery and utilizing lots of skylights and natural light utilizing the plenitude certain times of the year due to the position nearby the North Pole. Also, all the sustainability practices are integrated into everyday life. Bottled water is not cool, bikes are cool, recycling is expected, and all of it integrated into everyday life and is easy and prevalent as is local, traditional food.
As a family we can feel comfortable knowing that children are an accepted and respected part of society not an inconvenience. Parents in this progressive country received 480 days of parental leave and an amount of that is reserved just for the fathers and a large percentage take advantage. As we hit the parks everyday in between the rain showers (we try a new one everyday as there are a whopping 14 large theme playgrounds in the city) there are an equal number of dads in the parks as moms for this very reason. Even the playgrounds are esthetically beautiful, function with individual creative elements. Upon seeing one Ilaria, at the pure site, told me it was the best park she had ever seen and upon entering loved it even more. Sweden is fantastic!
Now back to the cliffhanger…
The public trains of southern Scandinavia are neat, sleek, and timely, created to support and sustain a travels needs and baggage transport. On the day we arrived traveling to Sweden’s 3rd largest city it was unexpectedly brimming with masses of travelers and luggage, perhaps some arriving for the HUGE Eurovision competition in Copenhagen as hotel occupancy saturated and attendees spilling into the surrounding areas. Groggy, as my sleep was altered from the fact that we drilled the mantra into Ilaria that she was going to “sleep on the plane overnight, sleep on the plane overnight, sleep on the plane overnight” but did not mention it meant in her own seat and not curled on my lap. Never the less, we managed to heave and cram our bags and ourselves onto the train without a minute to spare.
Never in the many years we have taken this route, even in rush hour, has it been so crammed or the energy been so discombobulated. To create a visual these trains have cars that have fold-down seats lined on either side with open space for bikes and luggage to the back of the car is some, for lack of better description stadium seating with a narrow 3 step rise to enter the area. I set down the soft duffel bag down off to the side of the stairs and placed Ilaria seated onto it so she would be A) seated so not to be thrown around, B) resting from lack of a full nights sleep, and C) entertained by the Swedish girl approx. 2-3 in her stroller. Here is the turning point as I stood to stretch my tired and cramped legs.
A dubious character entered our car by way of descending the 3-step rise and seemed wobbly and intoxicated lumbering around. His stocky build and large, stuffed backpack forcing its way into too small of a space gave a sense of his unawareness. Being the detective that I am, note taken that he had a 3-year-old and wife in tow, which in some way validated him – big mistake. In a matter of seconds the train pitched to the side and Mr. X violently lurched forward causing a domino effect slamming into me as I was holding the metal bar for stabilization but his mass and the velocity were no match for me. Not a chance as myself and another tumbled to the ground. In a split second the visceral response, a desperate beckon to my child in pure desperation for I could see no sign of her from my vantage point only Mr. X with his large backpack juxtaposed in the air.
Horror struck my thoughts for that brief moment could she be bent forward and crushed? No word from the little voice I revere, as people lifted Mr. X in a desperate attempt to free the rest of us a burly voice announced to the onlookers, as if they cared, “I am OK, I am OK”. A sigh of relief as the mother of Ilaria’s new playmate liberated her and lifted her to freedom holding her closely as the natural instinct of a mother from anywhere around the world would do. Still no words, Ilaria must have been in shock from the event or from the screeching call from my voice in a tone she had never heard prior. Then a few tears and she was handed over to me. He crashed onto her leg but the softness of the duffel absorbed the impact.
Välkommen tillbaka! (Swedish for “Welcome back!”)
Living Wherever We Are 