Requiem

Christine Howe was the best hugger I knew.

She would greet me with with her musical, sing song voice--"Well, hi there Kellie!", slide up to me, wrap her arms around me while kissing me (with a "mmmmm!"), bend her knees so they would touch and grip mine--and then she would wriggle, shaking and rocking me in her embrace.

She knew how to make people feel absolutely loved.

She was the rare soul who would let me know exactly where I stood with her. I never had to guess whether there was anything unsaid--her love and support came complete with clear, unabridged communication. If she wasn't happy with me, I knew it--but it never rankled. She was a straight shooter, with the rare innocence that seems to accompany those with such earnestness.

She was one of the healthiest people I knew--at 52 she put my 35 years to shame. Her toned and vibrant body was maintained with her vegetarian diet, regular cleanses, ample exercise.

Nothing makes one feel one's own mortality more strongly than finding out that someone as healthy and alive as Christine had a cancerous brain tumor.

She was diagnosed July of '05.

With the support of her husband Jon, son Tyler, and a bevy of loved ones in her community, she managed to live a pretty full life in the following year, visiting friends and loved ones in Europe and Mexico, all the while doing what she could do to not give way to the cancerous intruder. For awhile, the lack of growth in her tumor lulled us all into thinking she was beating it.

Before we left for our trip in October, we got word that the tumor had resumed growing; while we were away, Jon's emails brought heavy hearted news that Christine was rapidly declining.

When we returned we were able to spend some time with her, seeing the Christine we loved through the symptoms of the damage that the tumor growth was wreaking on her brain. As the days passed she went from being able to spend some time in a wheel chair, to not leaving her bed. All the while she was cared for at home by Jon and Tyler.

A week later, last Saturday the 18th, we all gathered at Jon and Christine's house. It was unplanned--just a gravitation of loved ones to their place, wanting to witness, support, soak in this hallowed, heart wrenching experience. It was indescribable, these hours--such a combination of love, grief, joy, fellowship that pulsed through rooms among all who were present.

We took turns holding vigil in her bedroom--three of us at a time sitting on the floor or on the bed next to her--holding her when the seizures convulsed her body every ten minutes. Murmuring to her, "Just let go, sweetheart..."

As Taryn noted, it almost felt like being a midwife...every convulsion was like a contraction. We hoped that she would use our strength, our presence to aid her transition. But that blessed woman, that strong, vibrant woman wasn't ready to go quite yet. She seemed so far out of her body, in a persistent slumber, unresponsive to all her gathered around her.

But, the next night, Sunday, when Jon leaned in and whispered to her, "Marry me..."
She replied, "Okay..."

I massaged Jon last Friday--I was so grateful to him for letting me "help". I appreciate Jon so much--both he and Tyler have been so gracious in sharing this deeply personal experience with all of us.

As I worked on him, he mused about the concept of "helping someone die"--what, really, was there to help?

"I think," I mused, thinking about Taryn's analogy of midwifery,"that both birth and death will happen regardless of whether there is help to be had, or not. But isn't it much better to have loved ones nearby to ease the way?"

Christine died last night at 8:51pm.

The email we received from Jon this morning:

just to let you know,
the city was quiet, under a few inches of snow,
tyler and i were with Christine,
so far as we could tell her last breath was as peaceful as anyone's could be.
we filled the room with candle light,
and caught what sleep we could laying next to the bed.

Christine, thank you, I love you, I miss you.

Back home...

Still reeling from jet lag.

The train and plane ride home was largely uneventful. We spent the night before we flew out in Frankfurt. Dinner at an Australian restaurant that night (there's only so much potatoes and sausage one can eat)--passed on the kangaroo burger. Did think about it for a second or two though...

Watching Euro CNN in the hotel that night was like being a kid on Christmas morning--Democrats won??!!! Jubilation now over, let's see if they manage to not be the wishy washy spineless party that I've been frustrated with for so long...

After hours of travel, got in to Seatac and got a ride from friend Gary. Phone call the next morning from American Airlines saying that my money belt had been found (with passport, ID and credit card) on the plane. !!! didn't even know it was lost. Picked it up, no more cash inside :-( Someone was honest enough to turn it in, but just couldn't resist helping themselves to some bene's...

Good to be back home. Great trip. Soooo grateful to our hosts. Hope they come visit us next time...

A lovely walk with Gabi and the kids through the woods until twilight. On the way back to home we stopped in at the church and listened to the organ player practice in the darkness lit only by candles from the altars.

Very gothic and surreal experience.

Afterwards Jeff and I strolled through the cemetery that surrounds the church, red candles on the graves flickering. Jeff had to leave when we came upon one plot too recently created--a little too morbidly real for him. For me, I'm always fascinated and mystified by death and its accoutrements.

For special dinner we had boiled potatoes sauteed in butter (a special request from me), fine slices of roast beef sprinkled with olive oil, parmesan cheese and chives, Austrian bread, and Stiegel beer, naturlich!

Gabi and I had a girls' evening afterwards, revisting the bar we went to three years ago when I was last here. Rum and hot chocolate and good conversation, storing up memories with eachother to last us another several years.

Back home and more conversation with Christoph, a nice farewell to him last night--but then Jeff and I had to get up at 6am to see him off to work as we weren't ready to say goodbye just yet.

Elisabeth came this morning to deliver Stanger schnaps and goodbye hugs--we all have the sense and the knowledge that we will see eachother again in not too many years.

We are packed and waiting to go to the train station in an hour.

The sun gives us a glorious last few vistas of the surrounding area; I try hard to burn them into my brain.

Known and expected endings make now so much more poignant. Without these goodbyes would we appreciate things as much?

Back in Landeck

Saturday we just relaxed, just lollygaggin' and readin'. Christoph had new jokes to try out on us.

The night before we had left for Italy the four of us stayed up late telling joke after joke. Christoph was frustrated that he couldn't translate German jokes he knew into funny English versions. One got us giggling though:

Two chocolates--a caramel and a noisette (nut chocolate) sat on a wall. The noisette sneezed and fell off. The caramel looked down and said, "Are you alright?". The noisette replied, "I think I hurt my nuts."

Most of the time, we would just look at him blankly when the punch line was said to many of his jokes:

God was talking to a rabbi who was dissapointed with his son and his life direction. The Rabbi said to God, "I understand you had son problems too--how did you deal with this?" God:"I made a new testament"

Huh?

will and testament is how you say this?--- oh! funny....!

Most of the laughter was over translation frustration--and from the general joy to be had sitting and being silly with friends.

Sunday we hiked to the little cabin that has been in Gabi's family for decades. It was cold, cold. The hillside, the countryside on this hike, this terrain not 10 minutes from their house, never ceases to overwhelm me with its beauty--and I've done this hike about 6 times in 20 years. Americans have a warm nostalgia for the movie "The Sound of Music", Austrians either don't know this movie, or, if they do, they despise it. Gabi told me when I told her how this walk looked like it came straight from the movie, "I remember when you forced me to watch this AWFUL film!"

As my friend Rachel pointed out in her bloggings on her recent trip to Austria--it's mandatory for every American visitor to this quaint country's hillsides to twirl in the manner of Julie Andrews as Maria Von Trapp, with arms outstretched, head thrown back, and belting "THE HILLS ARE ALIIIIIIIIIIVE WITH THE SOUUUUUUND OF MUUUUUUUUSIIIIIIIIIIC!"

Don't be surprised, however, if locals within hearing vicinity cringe and cover their ears.

When we arrived we made a fire outside and roasted sausages over the coals. The farmer who leases the land around the cabin had recently sprayed the hillsides with a manure slurry. The aroma was so pungent it made my nose itch. Something about the smell mix of smoke, sausage, pine trees, meadow and manure---not something I'll be able to easily duplicate in Seattle...

Back down the hills to home, Jeff and I cooked an Italian meal for the family: Pasta with tomato sauce and bacon, Italian red wine, salad. It was a hit!

Then down to Katharina's and Michal's for tea and dessert--they had wanted to visit with Jeff and I. The table we sat around was the same table and kitchen I sat at the first time I visited in '88. I learned Austrian drinking songs at this table! (at the innocent age of 16). K and M are very involved in Celtic fantasy games where they meet up with other people who all dress and act in character, having grand adventures and epic battles. Kati dresses as an elf, Michal, as a Celtic warrior. I think they are as addicted to this as people I knew in college who were addicted to Dungeons and Dragons...

Yesterday (Monday) we lazed and ate again--G and C took us to a restaurant as this would be the last opportunity for us all to have a grand feast together. Later we went to Elisabeth and Roman's where we spent the night there so that we could have one last session with them of good conversation.

Our last full day in Austria is today. Tomorrow we leave on the train at 11:30am for a 6.5 hour ride back to Frankfurt. We spend the night in a hotel there, then on the plane on the 9th for the long journey home.

The time has passed quickly--but also very slowly. It feels like an age ago that we surprised Gabriele at her party.

I am ready to be home, ready to tackle the projects again, ready to be in my own bed, ready for my familiar routine. Traveling is grand, is educational, is necessary--but home is mandatory.

Not quite done with my adventures, more stories to tell, possibly. Then if you like, you can check in periodically and see how the adventures of mundane, everyday existence, full of predictability, yet rich with possibility, unfold...what could be better?

Seriously.

Venezia

After two nights in Verona, we went to Venice.

 

Well, honestly, I didn't want to go to Venice.  I had been there before, years ago in '88--with Elisabeth actually.  Oh, yes, it's extremely gorgeous, picturesque, unlike any other place in the world.  But, for me, once was enough.

 

Jeff wanted to see it, so we went--with two nights reserved at a little hotel in the Academia district, far from the crowds of San Marco's square.  Our room overlooked a sweet little canal, we could hear the tethered boats bumping in the night.

 

Again, the weather was perfect--gorgeous blue skies, crisp clean air--and this time it was getting chilly!

 

We walked and walked--I think this is one place that you can literally walk your ass off (if we were there for a few more weeks I'm certain I would have been able to fit into a smaller pant size!).  No cars allowed, can't go more than fifty steps without having to climb some stairs to go over another bridge.

 

Let me just say that I think Keens are the perfect pair of travelling shoes.  I have had a problem with my feet for years--any pair of shoes would cramp up my feet after a few hours of wearing.  These Keens are the most comfortable, light weight, durable shoes I've ever worn.  The only drawback being-- they're kinda goofy looking.  Put it this way, they make Birkenstocks look sleek.  But, since my feet ain't hurting, I ain't complaining.

 

I was surrounded again by gorgeous boot stores, and this time I was determined not to let my opportunity to own a pair of Italian boots pass me by.  But, the experience I had every time I went into a shop was the same: 

 

Me:  Excuzee, do you have size 42? (size 11, for those of you not familiar with European sizing)

Salesclerk: (looking in disgust down at my gargantuan feet in my crazy Keens) No!

 

Every place stopped at size 41--and they only had a few pairs in 41 at that.  It's funny how Nordstrom can carry my size in Italian and French shoes, but I can go to these countries and not be able to find them myself.  Oh well!  I didn't need to spend that money anyway.  :-E

 

So Venice was nice, it was fine--but it's truly not my city.  I can appreciate the unique beauty, the history, yadda, yadda, yadda--but it's hard for me to love a place that is so dependent on tourists, the same tourists that it's obvious the locals despise to keep itself afloat.  Most visitors arrive on the morning train and leave on the evening train.  After this last exodus, the city shuts down.  It's crazy--it becomes a ghost town. 

 

Once home to hundreds of thousands of people, Venice only has about 60,000 residents now--and that number is dwindling fast.  As I said, the people here rely on the tourists to keep the city running--and you can see that they really don't like these hoards of people that mob their town every day.  In Verona I felt that I could get swallowed up among the locals; in Venice I felt that I was a necessary evil.

 

Jeff thought it beautiful, however finally understand why I hadn't been enthusiastic about coming back--and was glad we came.  I didn't hate it--it was nice just being with my love in a city that caters to romance.  He assures me I won't have to come again!

 

The perfect Italian meal:  Tartinas.  Little slices of baguette, topped with various delights:  mozzarella with prosciutto, different types of mackerel mixes, green onion jelly (delicious!), any type of Italian smoked meat.  Accompanied by a brisk Italian vino rossi--molto buono!  Like an Italian form of tapas.

 

Checked out of the hotel Friday morning, spent a couple hours on the steps of the train station people and bird watching.  Italian seagulls are funny.  They look just like ours, but they sound completely different.  The closest I can come to describing their cry is like a crow's--but a couple pitches higher and more drawn out.  It sounds like a witch gloating.

 

On the train, headed back to Austria.  Italy is decidedly dirtier and louder than its gentle Tyrolian neighbor.  We are forced into the luxury of first class seats as we Americans can only buy a Eurail pass for 1st class accomodations.  At lake Guarda an attractive woman sat down in our little cabin that we had had mostly to ourselves. 

 

After a few smiles we began to chat and had fabulous converstation for hours on all manner of topics, making the 6 hour ride feel like only 1.  She was a documentary film maker for a Bavarian public television station and had made films on all sorts of topics--from death and dying and various human interest topics, to art-based focuses, such as the film on Titian and (I forget who else) that she had just been wrapping up in Venice.  It was one of the things I had been craving, but hadn't gotten yet until this time--a connection with a stranger in a foreign land.  I remember having so many of these when I visited Europe the first time in '88.

 

Brenner pass was covered with snow and had flurries coming like mad.  When we arrived back in Landeck the temperature was noticeably colder and we were glad for the hats and gloves that we packed for the walk back to our hosts' house.

 

Once back there was warmth and food awaiting us--a fondue meal.  Fondue always forces the participant to eat very slooowwwly. :-)

 

Highlights of Italy:

 

forcing myself to walk on the high ramparts of Ponte Castle Vecchio and face my dizzying fear of heights,

the Osteria Bulgiardi in Verona,

trying on Persol's and letting myself buy a pair,

the free cookie from our waiter,

the lovely old ladies at our Veronese hotel who were more than happy to give us sightseeing and language tutoring,

the funny old man who owned the wine and grappa shop we bought some limon chello from,

the sweet old Italian lady in Venice who thought we were lost when she saw us studying our map and wanted to point the way to San Marcos square (we were actually trying to locate a famous gelateria),

the mad ringing of the bells in San Marcos square for the call to worship,

eating and drinking at the little wine bar not far from our hotel,

people watching and note taking on fashions of the excursion,

great conversation on the train ride home,

and, who can forget,

 

amore,

amore,

amore!

 

 

 

---

Access over 1 million songs - Yahoo! Music Unlimited Try it today.

Verona

Up early on Monday to catch the train to Verona, Italy.  More beautiful vistas to soak up traveling through the Dolomites into South Tyrol (the Germanic northern part of Italy), down into Veneto region, arriving in Verona 6 hours after we left Landeck.

 

My friend Mary had told me that if I really wanted to go to a town in Italy that lived up to the images conjured when one thinks of ITALY--then go to Verona.  I have to say she was so right!  Gorgeous buildings, red tile roofs, beautiful plazas, plenty of Roman ruins to make up for the fact that we weren't going to Rome. 

 

We had a great hotel recommendation care of Rick Steves, our local travel guru in the Seattle area--the room was a bit austere, but the sweet women running the place, the care shown to us, and the very convenient location to the center of town made it just perfect.

 

By chance we found our favorite restaurant, favorite local ambience, favorite Italian wine all wrapped up in a great osteria (eatery) on the first day.  3 euros (about $3.60) bought us a glass of fabulous Valpolicella wine, 5 euros bought a gorgeous plate of food.  We went there three times in two days.  Jeff even had a glass of wine every time we went.  For those of you who know him--this is truly remarkable!

 

Lots of walking, sightseeing, and soaking it all in--my big Italian splurge happened there in Verona: I bought mysel a pair of Persol's (very nice Italian sunglasses--and happily I've needed to wear them every day since!).  Mama Mia!  A great conversation with the sales lady--shared puzzlement over what the American government was doing--she said the shock was palpable in Europe when our last presidential election yielded another four years of Bush2.   I told her to check our the most recent RollingStone article written by Michael Kennedy (came out a couple months or more ago).  For those of you not familiar with this article--google it.  It's a most disturbing exploration of what may have really happened in Ohio with those Diebold voting machines....  I told her that I believe the US needs its voting days monitored by an international quorum.  Such a reactionary I am, I know!

 

I think the best soft drink ever is Chino--or Chinotto (depending on the maker).  An Italian soda pop--it's quite bitter, but sweet too--I think it's a tamarind-based flavor, but I'm not certain.  I only know it's very hard to get in the states as it's decidedly NOT an American taste.

 

Almost every woman I saw was wearing gorgeous, knee high boots.  I was surrounded by people in fabulous fashionable clothing.  And, of course, there were many places to buy said articles of fabulosity.  Oh the torture!  I wanted to spend and spend...and just about the time, the day I thought to allow myself to try on some boots (oh just one taste wouldn't hurt!), the day was November 1--All Saints Day-- a holiday among the Catholic countries, and all the dang shops were closed.  Ai!

---

Check out the New Yahoo! Mail - Fire up a more powerful email and get things done faster.