Wow, what a weekend it was!!  I had an incredible time with friends in their home towns.  On Thursday, I met Christina at the Bahnhof--orange in pocket, pretzel in hand (not to mention, three already in the belly)-- and we jumped the regional train to her home in Balingen (one of the many -ingens of Baden Wuerttemburg).  We sat opposite one another on the blue and red seats, my bag above, hers below.  As we split the snow-decked landscape, she described her family and friends who I would meet at the theater later that evening at the titilating transvestite picture show.  We arrived at the Bahnhof-- ay, the platform--and spotted her mother's green mercedes as we came to a stop.  She grabbed her bag, and I mine, and toted them to the trunk.  Frau Neff greeted us with a smile and a hug.  I immediately saw the resemblance 'twixt mother and daughter in the facial structure 'round the cheeks and the brown eyes.   We climbed in the car and conversed a bit, I, trying my best to decipher the heavy swabian dialect, until we arrived at their house. Stucco-walled fortresses with clay-shingled rooftops lined the road, nestled together in an orderly fashion.  Chris showed me around her house a bit before we sipped strong coffee and nibbled on the Fasnetzkuchen her mother had prepared the previous night.  I spoke a bit of my home and she of hers.  Her thriving houseplants blew me away.  Several plants at least six feet in size towered underneath the snowy grey glass panels adjoining her living room.  Thick bases. 

Shortly thereafter, I accompanied her up to meet her brother and her mother's old guitar.  The dust layer on the exterior of the case was the result of years of sitting on a shelf, untickled, unpraised.  I tuned it to the best of my ability until the intervals were at least correct.  It must have been a bit too flat, but I couldnt be bothered to raise it.  The stale strings produced a surprisingly rich tone (allbeit wavering), I suppose, as do most classical guitars.  I sang a tune and stummed a bit while Chris bathed and schminked herself up for the show (she was really excited).  I hadnt a clue what I was to expect of the evening, other than having to speak German.  We headed downstairs to go, presumably, but, instead, I was greeted by a table full of wurst and bread and other hearty snack foods.  I enjoyed a few hot peppers with my meat and cheese, all on a few slices of freash bread.  It was a darker dough than that which I  am accustomed to eating--very heavy and satisying.  I talked a bit of German with her parents while she frantically sought the appropriate observations materials for the film.  Its no easy task understanding the near unintelligible jargon Swabians, and speaking their language almost impossible for me, but somehow we conversed (mostly in Hochdeutsch).  Chris finally found and gathered all her goodies for the night and we departed five minutes later than planned.  Maybe it was my presence that shook her german punctuality.  We arrived at the theater to be greeted first by Corina, Corina and Frank, along with 20 of Christinas close friends.  I joined Corina and Frank for a bier before the movie, and then found a seat in the theater.  I had ne'er before seen the Rocky Horror Picture Show-- a fact I surely had no qualms about as the talkie began-- and I probably will not see it again (on my own free will).  One word: decadent.  Well, one more: cocaine. 

After the movie, we walked to a bar and I had some tap water while the others drank alcohol and wondered why I drank tap water.  The evening came to a close with a departure hug from Christina and a walk to the car with Corina and Frank.  It was a nice night.  

I slept on the couch in Corina's sister's (Heike's) room.  Heike is gorgeous, as is her sister.  I had no problem slumbering in her den.  At four thirty, I heard a knock on the door--my wake-up call.  It was time to head to the bus stop for a day of skiing in the alps.  wow. skiing in the alps.  We loaded Frank's car with skis and boots and transported them to the bus.  A double-decker, the tour bus was Hauser and very nice on the interior.  Very tinted windows, as well.  Marcel (Frank's very Swabian-speaking cousin), Frank, Corina and I, with sleepy eyes, boarded the bus. Almost immediately, I was asleep, kernels in me ears, music blanketing me.  I woke up to the aroma of wurst and the crunching of marcel's carrots.  He offered me a sandwich, and I eagerly accepted.  I love german food.  I ate happily, chatting with Marcel about music and my home and his.  Frank and Corina napped together, leaning shoulder to shoulder, hand in hand.  It was a happy time for us all.  Within two hours, we carefully began our ascent up the mountain to the land of snow and ice.  Wow.  The apline peaks blew me away with their vastness.  We were in a valley at Lenzerheide, the low point, yet were so far above the drowning world whence we came.  Alps!!!  We eagerly unloaded our cargo from the bay of the bus and I wandered over to the chalet in which I could rent some equipment for the day.  I grappled with the idea of snowboarding, but couldnt be bothered to for only one day.  Instead, I rented some parabolic skis and nice, warm boots with four tally snaps and some velcro.  I happened to be the first customer in the store at 9am, and also happened to rent the last pair of boots my size.  Boots on my feet, skis on my back and sweet, blue snowpants on my legs, I met the other three at the entrance.  We carefully placed our ski-cards (not tickets, like Im used to, but plastic cards with strips in them that allow access to the lifts) in our pockets, slapped our skis on and off we went to the first lift.  It had been sometime since I had last skiied in the Appalachian hills 'round my way, but I took to the slopes with a smile on my face and willed my balance, trusting that I would quickly remember the motions. Our first run was FANTASTIC.  The view on the other side of the mountain lead me down each time, the lift returning me to the amazing summit.  Snow, sun, friends-- it was perfect.  We ate a bit of chocolate and some pretzels at lunch, washed down with apple juice and a bit of snow.  We took our last run around 4:30 and headed down to the bus, exhausted, red-nosed and glowing.  After a round of Gluehwein, we boarded our bus and departed Lenzerheide.  What a day.  I opened Dracula and placed my book-mark reciept about 20 pages back.  At the time, I thought it was a reasonable goal, but Stoker's tale could not keep me from dreaming my own, just minutes after having turned the first page.  I awoke, again, as I did on the way, to the smell of meat and cheese.  What a great wake up call.  We pulled into the bus garage about 9:30 that evening and made our way slowly back to Corina's house.   

to be continued....