Travel Day, Mostly About Airports

 June 16, 2025

Travel day, to home-ish. Vancouver, to be exact. Pender tomorrow.

The morning was relaxed, as I finished up packing. I barely unpack, really, with my nifty slim packing cubes that serve as drawers. And a bunch of small cases sorted by function, like shower, bedside, etc. 

Packing to go home is a breeze, unlike packing to leave, which takes months. I should learn to just use old packing lists, since they’ve always worked. This time, I added updates to the current list, of things I should have brought but decided against, like an external charger for my phone, and things I brought but didn’t use, like a disposable razor that felt so horrible I only used it once, and for the space it saved, I should have brought my regular one. These things, we learn. By the time I’ve got it perfect, I’ll be done with travelling, as in too old. 

I’ve complained about the new Berlin airport in the past, and it can be confusing without all the pertinent information. Last time I departed from Berlin, it was to fly to Lisbon, and I remember it took some doing to figure out which check-out counter to go to. This time that information was sent to me, though I don’t remember how (must find out, for future reference,) but if I hadn’t had previous experience, I might have ignored that info. I had written it out for myself, and once I found where I had written it (I do duplicates of duplicates, which I now realize just confuses things,) I headed straight for the right counter. There were no people there, but there wasn’t supposed to be. First, I scanned my boarding pass (from my phone) into a booth that printed my baggage tag, which I attached to my bag with some kind of magnetic thing, not actual glue. There was a man standing by to help, or I wouldn’t have had a clue. Then I put my bag on a belt, scanned the baggage tag, and off went my bag. Into the ether. How it will get to Vancouver with baggage tag attached is beyond me, but oh well. 

BER: Self explanatory -- same system as YVR. Print baggage tag here.

BER Baggage drop. No personnel, just do it all yourself. If you can't figure out how to attach the baggage label (I couldn't), that guy is there to help. Whew!

I decided to check my bag this time because I have a relatively short connection in Munich, and if my Berlin-Munich flight is late, the transit might be too hard and too slow for me to make the connection. I put all the really needed stuff in my backpack, and I’m keeping fingers crossed and thumbs pressed (the German way, which is a must when in Germany) that the bag arrives eventually, if not on the same flight as me. 

Security, again, didn’t require removing liquids or electronics from my backpack. Remember? “Everything in the box!” But once I’d passed through the body scanner, I was chosen for a pat down and a peak at the bottom of my shoes. I remembered once, leaving Ottawa, the guy patted down my bare arms. I don’t know what he thought he was looking for. 

Once in the main departure area, I read the departures board and found out my gate wouldn’t be posted until 11:20. I had more than an hour to wait. The area was great, however, with lots of overpriced shops where I was tempted to buy a new passport neck pouch, a fancy water bottle, a new sunglasses case, a jigsaw puzzle, a portable charger, and a Jansport combo backpack/roller bag. I didn’t buy anything.

Anyhow, long story short: Berlin Airport is pretty nice! Their washrooms, however, don’t come close to Vancouver’s. There are few stalls, and they are small; there is no room for the inevitable line up in the ladies’, and if you’re waiting for a stall, you risk getting smashed by the outer door. YVR washrooms are beautiful and have won awards for their design.  Who knew washrooms could win awards?

Finally, as I write, I’m sitting at Gate 10 with an hour to go. I don’t see our plane yet. I realize I should have filled my water bottle, because if I leave now, I might not get a place to sit. Oh well, not crucial for this 1-hour flight. I’ll fill up in Munich.


Munich Airport, Gate L09

How can there be such different impressions of an airport from one time to the next? Just 20 months ago, Munich airport felt shabby, convoluted, and terribly inefficient. Today, it is the opposite. The flight arrived on time from Berlin, and I followed excellent signage that led through an enticing shopping area (no stopping here, though, as I just wanted to get to my gate,) took me down an elevator to the people mover, then up a couple of very long escalators to my gate. Along the way, there was an automated passport control where I scanned my passport, which I guess means I’ve now checked out of Europe. Entering the gate area, there was a line-up at a desk, where they put a sticker in my passport, ostensibly to make boarding very quick. I imagine it will be the same as boarding in Berlin, despite it being an international flight: tap the phone with the electronic boarding pass on the scanner, and you’re through. 

I’ll be in seat 15G, which is quite near the front in economy, but I’m in boarding group 6, which seems a little weird, but I noticed the Berlin-Munich flight used a different system for boarding, which I read some years ago was much more efficient that the traditional front to back boarding. This way, people are boarded seemingly randomly, which means no one is blocking up the aisle hoisting their carryon into the overhead bin.

Speaking of which, there was a minor battle in Munich as the gate attendants weighed bags and made people check the ones that were overweight. One couple kicked up a fuss, unfortunately in German so I couldn’t understand what was said. The gate attendant stood her ground. When another customer began to complain as well, in English, the attendant said, “We announced it twice, that bags would have to be checked. There are no exceptions.” I’m really glad I opted to check my bag earlier, because I would have had to anyways, my bag weighing in at 10 kg, and Lufthansa’s limit being 8 kg. Doesn’t matter that I booked with Air Canada, who does not impose weight restrictions, at least not yet.

*****

From home:
The flight was loooooonnnngggg. Ten hours. But my noise-cancelling bluetooth earbuds paired with my airplane adapter, and the sound was great. Turns out you have to have the buds in their case, with the lid open, and then you press the only button there is on the case for about 5 seconds, and the buds enter pairing mode. It’s not exactly intuitive, and there is no manual, and I had to look it up and hope that the info was accurate, because I had no way to test it before being on the plane. 

The legroom was tight, even for this pipsqueak. I sat centre section aisle, as I do on long flights, so there was no climbing over to do, not by me or over me. I didn’t sleep, though I tried. Watched some good movies, including Anora, an award winner. For those who've seen it, you'll understand when I say I felt a bit awkward watching the first part in a public place. No one seemed to notice, though.

I landed in Vancouver at around 5 pm, and John was there to meet me. I joined with extended family for the evening, for as long as I lasted. In the morning we took the ferry home to Pender Island.

Carol said, if you have to come home, this is the best possible place to come home to. That’s how it feels. Great trip, and great to be home.

A Last Day in the 'Hood

 June 15, 2025 — Sunday

Another scorcher of a day. There were offers of outings, but I wanted a low-key day for my last day before heading home, so we stayed in the neighbourhood. We walked to the Volkspark Wilmersdorf, a serpentine stretch of green that once saved me from jet lag on arrival in Berlin some years ago. There’s a new playground there, a huge, spectacular one. In a city full of huge, spectacular playgrounds, this one outdid them all. My favourite part was the labyrinth. Who doesn’t like a labyrinth? It was small, but definitely get-lost-able. The theme of the playground was Harry Potter, and all the characters were there, carved in wood, but the city didn’t call it Harry Potter, because they would have had to pay royalties. How omitting the name is enough to avoid lawsuits is beyond me. 

Random sunbathing on patchy grass (see previous post about this aesthetic)

Family playing pétanque, or boules, or bocce, whatever it's called here. Behind that greenery is the beer garden described below

Not a Harry Potter playground

A feature that wasn’t new in this part of the park was a row of pingpong tables. At the beach yesterday, Amelia and Ezra (and for a bit, me) volleyed a pingpong ball back and forth with the paddles they’d brought for the purpose. Today, it was actual pingpong. Well, no score-keeping, that would ruin it. Ezra taught Amelia about backhand today, and she caught on right away. Somewhere in the forgotten crannies of my past, I must have played some pingpong, because my body remembers how to do it. Weird, that. I’m not good, no, far from it, but I’m not a complete newbie, either. I have a feel for the paddle, the ball, and the table. Hmm.

Ezra and Amelia

We stopped in a beer garden on the way home. This was an actual garden, of sorts, tucked behind a hedge that separated it from a major paved walkway. From that walkway, you’d never guess this was there. Sitting in there, looking at the beat-up tables, the old wooden-slat chairs, the higgledy-piggledy-ness of it, I was reminded of Mexico, or India. Katharina said that places like this could only be in Berlin; anywhere else in Germany would be all cleaned up and spiffy. Rough-cut, Berlin.

One small corner of LAAX, a shabby-chic beer garden

 

This is the place, if you ever want to find it

I love this family!

A Day at the Beach

 June 14, 2025 — Satuday

Hot today, up to 30°

On my Berlin Wishlist, which, I must emphasize, was not really a wishlist, one idea was to go kayaking in Klein-Venedig. When I saw this in that off-beat Berlin article, I remembered seeing pictures of Ezra and Katharina doing that, years ago, pre-kids. They were quite enthusiastic about the idea, and thought the kids would like it. 

It meant getting the car from Katharina’s mom, so K was off on the train early to pick it up. Ezra baked a spanakopita and packed it up, along with the left-over picnic food from yesterday. We all (including kids) hauled bags and backpacks down to the street and stuffed them in the back of Agnes’s little car. We set out on what ended up being about an hour’s drive, slowly slowly winding through the city, mile after mile of wide boulevards or narrow lanes, all lined with the same 6-8 storey apartments. Kinda dystopian. We passed through neighbourhoods given over to a variety of immigrants and refugees, the latest being the Palestinians. This is probably a lot better than what they left behind. One person’s hell….

The last bit of the drive took us through a pleasant neighbourhood of single family dwellings, of which I’ve seen almost none in this city, and finally onto a single-car lane with cars parked all along, a signal that there may not be space ahead. There wasn’t. Ezra dropped us off with all the gear, and drove back to find a spot. 

We arrived at the boat (kayak/canoe) place to find they had no boats available. They were all booked up. But when Katharina had tried to book, the info she got was that they didn’t take bookings. I think she and Ezra were disappointed, but considering the heat, I really didn’t mind. We decided to hit the beach, which was a short walk through the trees. 

None of those canoes were available for us to rent, apparently

How do I describe this beach? It was a steep, sandy hillside, deeper than it was long; golden, dusty sand, scorching hot. People occupying all the shade but one small spot, up near the top of the hillside, which we beelined towards. We settled among the ciggie butts and the burning bodies, laid out the blankets and the feast. The girls and Ezra went swimming. I spent the time people-watching. To me, it was astounding, seeing so many bodies elbow-to-elbow, at the lakeshore and in the water, apparently loving it. I guess it’s all in what you’re used to. One person’s heaven….

Picnic in a patch of shade

Busy on a hot day

Ezra and Amelia and I batted around a pingpong ball for a bit. Amelia's pretty good at it! Better than me, but that's not saying much.

I don’t know how long we were there. Later in the afternoon, we left our stuff and went back to the boat-rental place, where there was a trattoria. We had drinks — our habitual non-alcoholic beer — and the kids had sprite and ice cream cones. It was maybe 5 o’clock, which is just the right time to load up on pre-dinner sweets, right? 

Back at the beach, we moved the gear closer to the lake, because the shade had moved too. Katharina had a swim this time, as did Amelia and Brookie. The girls made sand castles and sand cities, and finally we decided it was time to tackle the long drive home. 

We went for falafel/donair at a little shop up on Haupstraße, the main street. We watched Berlin go by. It was dusk when we headed home. 

A Lot of Walking

 June 13

Ezra was off work today. We’d planned a picnic for dinner, so we went shopping. For something like €50 (I checked my withdrawals, and the Euro is currently about $1.60 CAD, a highter rate than I’d though), Ez bought what would have cost probably $150 back home. Things are generally cheap here. 

I nosed in some shops for a bit, was tempted by a shirt and a dress, but only bought some Fisherman’s Friend lozenges, which will get me through the flight home, when I will wear a mask. Masks always make me cough.

Ez and I went for lunch at the Café Bildebuch, a favourite haunt since John and I first started coming to Berlin. There’s a smoke-filled front patio and a fairly smoke-free back patio, where we chose to sit. 

My egg sandwich, not at all like "egg salad"

After lunch, it was time to pick up Brookie at the train from camp. It was at the same S-Bahn station I’d arrived at from the airport, and the one I'll probably leave from to get back to the airport, so I recorded the walk on a GPS track. It’s 2.2 km from here, and it took us 20 minutes at a good clip. Hauling my luggage might take longer. I could take a closer train and transfer but this one is non-stop direct, so the walk is probably worth it.

By 2 o’clock, I’d put in more than 10,000 steps and had plenty more to do today. Last time I was in Berlin, I averaged 13,000 a day. At my age, 6,000 is considered the sweet spot. I wonder if I can slack off all winter if I double up my steps in summer. Nah, I know the answer to that. It hardly seems fair.

In my “Berlin 2025 Wishlist,” which I think I got from a NTY article months ago, one idea was to picnic on the Insel der Jugend. Katharina has been doing her best all week to make all my wishlist items happen. She takes the list way more seriously than I do. So she arranged that Ezra's sister Maria and her partner Francie would meet us there, and away we went. Ezra rode, with the kiddie wagon in tow, holding two girls really much too big for it. Katharina and I took the S-Bahn. Then walked. And walked. And walked. Well, I asked for it, didn’t I? 

Typical S-Bahn station. Bland, but efficient

Here’s the thing about Berlin: it’s very rough-cut. That’s a big part of its charm, I think. Where other cities might have pristine gardens and smooth public lawns, Berlin’s spaces are weedy, and the grass, where it survives, is going to seed. In public recreational places, whatever grass there might ever have been has long since worn away, leaving large patches of bare, dusty ground, littered with cigarette butts and other detritus. That’s okay by Berliners. They spread their blankets in the dust and enjoy their picnics as if they were parked in a corner of paradise. In large, open spaces, people plunk themselves seemingly at random. Oh, there’s a patch not occupied, let’s occupy it. Think of yourself walking into the middle of a scrappy field and just lying down there, to catch some sun or read a book. That’s the aesthetic. 

Entrance to Insel der Jugend (Island of Youth), which you can see has been re-named Insel Berlin, but nobody calls it that. 

Set in the walkway leading to the Insel, there were stones naming what I presume were sponsors of the bridge. This was my favourite. Lucy is Stephen Hawking's daughter.

By the time Katharina and I had walked enough kilometers to up my annual daily step average by several thousand, the others had already found a seemly patch of dust, and the picnic was spread out. There were low trees around, and we were quite close to the river, so it wasn’t completely random. We pretended the cigarette butts were part of the natural landscape. The girls, they can make beautiful things out of anything, I swear, and we were served delectable frisbees of “pizza,” and “French toast,” made with mud, stones, tiny blossoms, and big juicy leaves. I wish I’d taken pictures of these unlikely works of art.

It was great to see Maria, after some years of crossed wires, but it wasn’t really enough time. It was nice to meet Francie at last. (I probably spelled her name wrong, sorry.)

Francie, Maria, and Brookie, with Ezra and the kiddie wagon bringing up the rear

Picnic over, while others sailed away on their bikes, Katharina and I retraced the kilometers back to the S-Bahn, and rode home watching the sun set at 9:15. Summer!

Oh, and my step count, since you’re dying to know: 21,954. That’s about half of what a Camino pilgrim will walk in a day. But I feel pretty good about it. 

This was before my last 26 steps to the bathroom and back

A Rant

 June 13, 2025

The internet has been intermittent here. There’s a wifi signal, which makes me think it’s not the modem. This reminds me of Pender, before the recent upgrade, except that here, it’s been gone on for some twelve hours. What did people do before internet? I lived most of my life without it — what did I do? I wandered into the kitchen this morning, and somehow Katharina had baked a quiche. Somehow, between 9:30 last night and 7:00 this morning, when she was off to work. Maybe I used to bake things? 

If I were at home I would have a ton of things to do, a list that had grown while I whiled away my time on the internet. No internet, that list gets tackled. Maybe I never used to have a list, and simply did things that needed to be done when they needed to be done. 

Ezra suggested that maybe people talked to each other? I thought, maybe that explains why my generation went through so many divorces, while his stays married. I mean, how much can two people find to talk about for decades?* The internet saves marriages! 

Parents are rightly worried about their kids and screen time. We just don’t know what it’s doing to their brains and their ability to actually connect to others. (We do have a pretty good idea what it’s doing to their psyche, though, due to online bullying, and it ain’t good.) Maybe, minus the online bullying part, it’s not all that bad. I remember a university professor telling us, back when I was naive enough to think that a university professor must be purveying the truth, that when novels first became a thing back in the 19th Century (I think it was the 19th, but the internet is down, so I can’t fact-check myself), young people had their noses stuck in books, and parents thought it would be their downfall — it would ruin their young minds and stunt their ability to be social. With this as a model, maybe we need to relax about screen time, as long as it’s not getting in the way of, you know, physical activity, school work, doing chores. 

What did kids used to do before the internet? My kids read a lot of books (risky to young 19th Century brains), built a lot of Lego (dangerous underfoot), and made big messes in their rooms. I don’t remember much else; frankly, my life was so frantic in those days, I don’t remember much at all. School nights, there weren’t many hours between picking them up from after-school care, feeding them, and getting them off to bed (always with read-aloud during which I was the one to fall asleep.) Weekends, we’d go on outings. When my first-born was little and the weather was lousy, an outing might be to a shopping mall — he actually liked that! Our outings when we didn’t go to the shopping mall were pretty great; kayaking, hiking in the mountains, cross-country skiing, markets, and parks. After the divorce, likely brought on by having to talk to each other in the absense of anything like the internet, I have no idea. Overwhelmed, I was. Their father had them every second weekend and kept the adventures going. I was grateful for that, doing the best I could when the boys were with me, and spending my “off” weekends trying to remember who I was.

We worry about online influences on kids. But kids always had that, blaring at them from all sorts of media: movie stars, pop music stars, dead-eyed models on magazine covers. There were always the classmates with older siblings arriving at school sporting the latest trend. There was always the cool crowd, detested by some but envied or emulated by most. Kid life was never all that easy as we sorted our way through the trash to find our true values. If we were lucky, we had good friends. If we weren’t so lucky, we had good books to read.

I’d considered renting a bike today, to go on a ride with Ezra. But I can’t look up where to rent a bike, so that probably won’t happen. Back in the day, I’d have used a phone book, but now there’s no such thing because everyone uses the internet.

If said internet ever returns here, I’ll publish this and subject friends and family to my rant, when all they want is a few pictures to make them wish they were here. 

*Don’t tell me about your frequent and wonderful conversations with your long-term spouse; my tongue is firmly in my cheek.

 

Update: turned out the router is “broken” and a replacement will take several days to be delivered. I’ll be gone by then.

 

Out For Tea

June 12, 2025 

 

I was on my own for the start of the day. I planned to get out to the main street to poke about the shops, but didn’t quite make it. Since I was up at 7, I needed a nap around 1 o’clock, and used my new trick of putting on a 15-minute guided meditation, setting an alarm for 30 minutes, and drifting off before the deep-breaths part of the meditation is done. The alarm woke me up, and I thought it was morning. So refreshing!

Katharina got home from work (she’s a pediatrician) at 2 o’clock, and we set out to check off one of the several things I’d put on my wishlist for this visit: tea at a Tajik tea house called Tadshikische Teestube. We rode a couple of S-bahn trains and emerged by the historic synagogue I’d visited with John on a previous visit to Berlin. The synagogue was all but destroyed during WWII (yep, our side did that), and is now a museum, not an active synagogue. There are concrete barriers in front, and a police presence, because, well, I can’t explain why. Why antisemitism still exists, or why it ever did, is something I’ll never understand. 

The domes of the synagogue on the left, television tower in the right distance

 

Notice the Big Ball in the Sky in a couple of my shots. While one might imagine some nefarious purpose, it's just a television tower. (That's what they'd like you to believe!) It's visible all over Berlin. My favourite story about it: when the sun shines on it, the reflection forms a Greek cross. That became known as "the Pope's revenge," because in East Germany, where it is (or was) situated, the government had removed all the crosses from the churches. 

Behind busy streets, quiet passageways

The neighbourhood we were in is riddled with little interior passageways between apartment buildings which have been developed into art spaces, cafés, and artisan shops. We walked through these leafy courtyards until we came to the one where our teahouse was located. The interior was really enticing, rather like the old Afghan Horseman in Vancouver for those that remember it, but on such a beautiful, warm day, we chose to sit outside. We ordered the “Russian Tea Ceremony” for two, which wasn’t really a ceremony. The very concentrated tea was held in a tiny teapot over a samovar. This was accompanied by minuscule bowls containing candied peel, rum-soaked raisins, some strawberry jam, and flavoured sugar lumps. It was supposed to be accompanied by vodka, but we chose apple juice instead. There was a dish with a number of cookies, packaged ones, not fresh. Our server told us we were to pour a small amount of the tea in our cups, then fill up with hot water from the samovar. She didn’t tell us what to do with the rest of the stuff. We took a guess and stirred the bits into our tea, which needed some sweetening, since it was strong and bitter (in a good way.)

Waiting for tea. Note ashtrays -- people in Europe haven't caught on to the nonsmoking culture of North America. The only safe place to eat is indoors, which in effect gives the best seating to smokers. Here, we were almost alone, therefore breathing clear air.

The interior of the tea house, had we needed to escape smokers

 

We lingered over tea, just talking, telling stories. So good to have this time.

Our "Russian Tea Ceremony", with sweet bits, cookies, and apple juice. The little teapot on the top is full of very concentrated tea, while the samovar is filled with hot water.

Afterwards, we walked through more of the little courtyards, then out onto the park that borders the Spree, the river that runs through the city. Across the river was Museum Island, that holds a group of historic buildings: the Berlin Cathedral, the “Old Museum,” the “New Museum” (which isn’t new), the Pergamon Museum. John and I, along with Ezra and Katharina, visited these on our first visit to Berlin in 2010. 

The Spree, with Museum Island on the right

It seemed like the entire population was in the streets today, drawn out by the hint of summer after some days of cool and even blustery weather. Something I love about Berlin is that it’s a living city. In other European capitals I’ve visited, the historic centres have become museums for tourists. Berlin is not like that. There were certainly lots of tourists where we walked today, but most of the people were locals out enjoying their city on a fine day.

There's that "Television Tower," spying on everyone

(I need to learn to make longer videos; 8 seconds seems sooo long when I'm recording!)

 

"Television Tower" with "The Pope's Revenge". Note S-Bahn train on the further bridge.

A nice restaurant before the dinner hour. Pretty sure I wouldn't want to wrap myself up in those hairy animal skins!

 

While we're out and about, here's a little lesson on using the Berlin transit system. First, you buy a ticket from the dispenser, then you validate it in a little red box. It's not clear (to me, without help) that you have to do that, but if you haven't validated your ticket, you are not travelling legally and could be kicked off the train if an official comes along to check. This is the same on European intercity trains -- you need to find the little box to validate your ticket.

Purchase tickets here. This local took a long time figuring out how to do it, so don't expect it to be easy. Know some key words, like "fahrkarte" for ticket. Otherwise, just poke at the screen, and eventually something will happen.

 

 

The validation box, this one attached to what looks like a mini fire hydrant.

Expect to share your ride with bicycles.

Amelia was at a birthday party from after school until 7 tonight, which is how Katharina was free to spend time wandering with me. We picked Amelia up at the party venue, an apartment like this one, where about a hundred kids emerged. Well, maybe not quite a hundred, but it might as well have been. Parents, mostly fathers, were there to pick up their kids. I was struck by the big smiles as they spotted theirs among the throng. I am struck generally by the strong sense of family I get, watching people here. Maybe it’s not different from home, but at home, people are mostly in their houses and yards, whereas here, because people live in apartments, families are out and about, and their affection is in-your-face visible. I don't have any photos of that affection -- you just have to imagine it.

I do now have some shots of some of Katharina's family members, from their visit yesterday. Maybe you can see the affection in these.

 

Katharina's mom, Agnes

And Katharina's sister, Theresia, and husband Damien

A Down Day, in a Good Way

 June 11, 2025

With everyone at work or school or camp, I was on my own for much of today. I was happy to take a down day. I spent the morning like I would at home, playing through the NYT games and puzzles, reading some news. I’ve been news free since leaving home, so I only stuck my toes in. I’m not about to dive in fully. I mean, how stressed out do I want to make myself?


I walked up to the Schoneberg Flohmarkt, an outdoor market that operates Wednesdays and Saturdays. I knew I was getting close when I heard the vendors shouting. I was looking for fruit and berries. The strawberries are in season and are spectacular, and there were also raspberries, cherries, nectarines, and I wanted all of those. I stopped for cherries, and the vendor shouted, “Eins Kilo?” and, not knowing on the spot how to ask for half, I said yes, and got the kilo. I stopped for raspberries, which came in small clamshell packs. The price was €2 for 2 packs, so I thought, but the vendor hauled out a case of 6. I said no, but he shouted, “Zwei Euro!” and I said okay. I started to catch on to this game, and when it came to nectarines, I asked for four, just four. The guy looked at me like I was out of my mind, but he sold me just four. The strawberries came in baskets, so that was simple, just one basket. This was early afternoon, close to wrapping-up time, and vendors wanted to get rid of stuff. I think at the end of the day, you can pick up food for free, or almost free.

On the way home, I stopped in at the discount store again — this is like a Winners, but smaller, and…European! I found a linen shirt I liked, and I was pretty sure I needed it, so I bought it. Souvenir, right?

Once home, I made a big fruit salad for the family, and served myself a bowl of it with yoghurt. Lunch.

Katharina got home with Amelia, and shortly after, her mom Agnes arrived, followed by sister Theresia and Damien and their two little ones, Frida and Valentine. So nice of everyone to come by! We ate Katharina’s rhubarb cake and drank tea or coffee. It was 6 pm. Why not have tea and cake at 6 pm?

I took Ezzie, Katharina, and Amelia to dinner at a tapas place around the corner. I have always wanted to go for tapas, but they are few and far between where I come from, and in the distant past when I encountered them, I couldn’t afford to eat there. Tonight, with too many Euros burning a hole in my wallet, I “insisted” (family joke) that we go and feast on the little plates of Manchego cheese, grilled peppers, beans with grilled tomatoes, shrimp, calamari, little filled croquettes, and of course patatas bravas. Everyone was delighted — yum! 

Amelia digs in!