Recalculating

Snowflake, our rebel Mercedes

The all too famous quote "It's not about the destination, it's about journey" sums up my first driving experience in Germany.  Four clueless girls all crammed into a Mercedes B Class heading out into the wintry world of mountains and the autobahn sounds like a good idea, right?
Just a little introduction to the madness that was us getting ready for the trip.... Minutes before our departure time we realized our borrowed GPS had fallen through so we headed to base to make a quick purchase, get our Esso card (allows you to buy tax free gasoline on the economy, a perk for military personnel in Europe), VAT form (tax free on significant purchases - rental car) and to stock up on car snacks and booze.  An hour later we were finally on the road wishing for better weather.  Our journey began in the midst of a decent snow storm.  The lady at Europcar seemed concerned that we didn't have snow tires, but I had driven countless winters without them and had been preached to about snow driving by Bret and dad every time a snowflake fell, so I was confident enough in my driving abilities that I wasn't too worried.

The girls and I sipping on our gluhwein

Despite the snow we slowly made our way onto the autobahn and were traveling for quite some time when our Australian accented GPS, Dave (named after my future husband that I met in Munich), warned us that traffic was heavy and we'd need to recalculate.  Corinne, my excellent navigator didn't see a car in sight and after several reminders from Dave, we silenced him and continued on.  Then the traffic came.  We were stopped for nearly an hour with two grumpy backseat passengers needing to use the WC, and for some reason they weren't thrilled when I offered to hold up a blanket on the side of the highway while they went. Once traffic started crawling we decided we'd take Dave's advice and do a detour.  This is when I began to think we might die.  Dave took us up a mountain, down a mountain, through a small village, where we proceeded to get stuck on an icy hill and only after all of us pushing while in neutral and me finally getting enough momentum to race up the hill did we escape, then up another mountain, down another mountain AND FINALLY back to the autobahn.  It wasn't until we were climbing the mountain for the second time, looking down the cliff side, sliding and losing traction every 10 seconds that I realized what a dangerous situation we were in.  I'm pretty sure the steering wheel has permanent groove marks from my white knuckling.  Now I can understand my dad's yearly dread when he was driving out west through the winter months.  Those curvy mountain roads aren't very forgiving.  Props to you daddio.  For sanity's sake, Corinne and I kept telling the girls in the back (both inexperienced snow drivers) that it was fine and we had it under control.  It wasn't until we hit flat ground that we expressed our dread that we were going to slide right off the side of the mountain into the beautiful snow covered trees.  We all shared a good laugh about it and thanked Dave for making us realize how thankful we were for our lives.  Happy Thanksgiving!

A three hour journey stretched out into six as we pulled up to the dorm of Corinne and Rachel's friends in Esslingen, a small town outside of Stuttgart.  We settled in for the night with a bottle of wine and some good stories to share with our new friends.  The next day we visited an all you can eat sushi buffet with a conveyor belt of delicious sushi, wantons, egg rolls, and may other strange looking items.  You simply sat down, ordered a drink and let the food grabbing begin.  If only all restaurants had the convenience of a conveyor belt.  Next was the Christmas market.  It was a medieval theme and was nothing like Salzburg's.  The costumes and beards were very Lord of the Ringsesque and had me wondering how I could score a gig like that.
 

For our thanks to our hosts we agreed to prepare a Thanksgiving meal for them and some of the other students living in the dorm.  It turned out to be my favorite Thanksgiving meal ever.  To start the endless day of meal preparation we got in the most American van possible with one of the most fun Germans I have ever met and went to the commissary on base in Stuttgart.  This vehicle had the looks of the Van Buren (Hutch's ride in high school..I'm sure my Mom remembers it parked in the driveway when we'd have "game night"), well maintained, fridge stocked with beer, an American flag hanging from the roof, and plenty of party jams for the ride.  My favorite part of the grocery store trip was explaining American brands and foods to the German.  It is so interesting to discuss difference in cultures, especially when the other end is eager and curious to share your lifestyle.  He had never actually been to America, but said that he loves it and cannot wait to finish his school and try to be a permanent resident in Nevada.  You must be wondering why Nevada?  Most Europeans think the U.S. consists of New York and California, but he's tired of the mountains and wants flat desert.  Finally someone with an original idea.  In thanks for his driving us, I bought him a case of Cherry Coke.  Trust me, he didn't get the short end of the stick.  He was so excited to try Coke that was manufactured in the states that he barely made it to the car before breaking one open.  It's surprising because even though all of the same ingredients are used many things taste differently that are made here.  The German was impressed with our version and left the American Army base with a smile on his face.

The dinner party - minus the four cooks

It took almost 5 hours to complete the meal and before we knew it the kitchen began to fill with people from all over the world.  In total there were twenty-five people with representative from the U.S., France, Argentina, Germany, Poland, Finland, and Sweden - probably a few more countries that I didn't get a chance to talk to.
Minus the seven Americans in attendance it was everyone's first authentic Thanksgiving meal made with real American food. The empty plates and countless thank yous at the end of the meal reassured us that it was a success.  It was such a rewarding feeling to share an American tradition with many different nationalities and for it to be accepted so graciously.  I'm not one for getting sappy, but it seriously made my heart smile to see them enjoy something that is so important to us.  After the meal we all complained of how full we were while we ate apple and pumpkin pie with Neapolitan ice cream.  Now it doesn't get much more American than that.