Stiff climbs and spooky trails

This was my most difficult day up here in the mountains. We left the broader hiking-trails completely, finally turning to the really steep climbs.

The trail we intended to take had been described to us yesterday as being a little precarious (I heard somebody else calling it 'spooky' ... and he was right!) due to continuously deteriorating conditions and plenty of loose rock and gravel. We had also been told that part of the route would involve a rather strenuous hand-over-hand climb, requiring the use of a rope, but I must say that I had only a vague idea of what to expect until the route was pointed out to us from an elevated point of view on the way to our starting point this morning. I looked and thought it wasn't possible ... surely we weren't meant to take that way! It looked far to steep.

I suddenly began to doubt being able to make it, knowing it would be extremely demanding and difficult and I got a very strange feeling in my stomach, somewhere between excitement and anxiety. Then again, I knew that our guide wouldn't take us there if he thought we wouldn't be able to make it, so I decided to stop worrying and just hang in there.

We had to descent for quite a while at first, going down a deep gorge, only to make the stiffest climb up again after we reached the bottom. Ascending on the other side we came across several memorial stones and crosses, reminiscent of those mountaineers who weren't quite so lucky - something I didn't find exactly reassuring to say the least.

When we left the marked trail, the path became so narrow that I thought I might lose my balance if I ever stopped putting one foot in front of the other, so I just kept moving in a slow but constant rhythm instead. The higher we got the less keen I actually felt to stop anyway – a brief glance to my right had clearly presented the deepest ravine and sharpest hillside I had walked along so far, going straight down a few hundred metres right beside my feet and I sure didn't want to explore that any further, feeling not so sure about having overcome my acrophobia, my fear of heights. I knew I would start to feel giddy the moment I looked down so I chose to stare ahead instead, trying to divert my thoughts, taking them off any unwanted speculation about possible unpleasant occurrences, which wasn't an easy task at all, blessed as I am with a rather vivid imagination. I'm fascinated by depths just about as much as I am afraid of them, which might just prove that attraction and aversion are never far apart.

Anyway, if you want to have a fair impression of me climbing that mountain, just imagine a somewhat wispy being in short trousers and heavy mountain boots with a rather tense (but pretty obstinate) facial expression, clinging to a rope so tightly that her knuckles start to turn white while her head turns pink in a vigorous effort to make it to the summit and down again ...

That trail was really wild, disappearing into nothingness every now and then, forcing us to cross rather profound chasms with giant strides (those with shorter legs were clearly at a disadvantage ...). Those crevices seemed to be bottomless and I definitely knew why that guy at the lodge had called this route 'spooky'! For once, none of us had much of an eye for the beautiful landscapes all around us, being far too concentrated, focusing on nothing but the way in front of our feet. Also we were far too exhausted by then, only wanting to 'get there'.

When we reached our arrival point in the late afternoon I felt I had gone to my very limits, physically as well as mentally. I will not say that it didn't feel good, it did, very much so, but it was so very hard to go through with it.

We all needed time for contemplation, coming to terms with our own achievement. Every single one of us may have had his or her own doubts or worries in the beginning and yet we all made it, going straight forward instead of backing out, facing and fighting our very own demons, literally going to 'the places that scare us'.

Slowly recovering from the physical effort we started to joke and laugh again, talking about how everyone of us had his own way of coping with the givens of such a tour. Of course there were jokes again about me and my presumed fear of heights, the others telling me that I surely always remain ahead of my fear if I keep on hiking at my speed. I asked the guide whether they were right, if I was too lightheaded, bringing myself into danger by walking too fast but he reassured me that I seemed cautious and sure-footed enough to him, not like bringing myself into unnecessary danger and also never loosing touch with the group which was important from his point of view. He also said that of course we would have to walk or climb differently if ever we got into bad weather, that it couldn't be compared to how it was today and that certainly we all needed more experience until we were able to evaluate our own abilities in a realistic way regarding certain situations. I think it also makes a big difference if you make such a tour on your own or with a guide. In our group of eight I think there is only one experienced enough to make it on his own or even lead others. Well, - I will not give up, I will come back to the mountains, learning and making my experiences, one by one, in my own time, not hurrying it or putting myself under pressure.

But that will have to wait, because now - unfortunately - it's more or less time to go home, back to Germany. Tomorrow we will need a rest after this challenging climb today, planning a little 'relaxation walk' to a nearby village only. Coming back here it will be time to pack and prepare for the journey home the following morning. I will go by car instead of flying back, which means a drive of 10 hours. Somehow it will be more natural to see the landscape changing slowly, it always seems a bit abrupt to me, arriving somewhere by plane. Of course it's pretty comfortable and also there are distances one can't make in a car in time, but still ... it's strange and somewhat unnatural I think.

I'll say goodbye from Austria here. Of course I am sad to leave but I see it more relaxed now than a few days ago. I have had such a wonderful time here and I don't want to spoil it by becoming sad or depressed in any way. I want to keep all my lovely experiences in my memory without any bad thoughts diluting them. I have grown so fond of the mountains and of the people here. Most of them I have not known when I arrived and now we depart as friends. We got along just great and have had such a lot of fun and wonderful experiences together, from the very beginning it felt as if we had known each other for years. It's extremely unusual for me to open up to a group of strangers like that, to trust them and feel so much at ease, so comfortable with them. But I did here. Another new but lovely experience I am grateful for.

So, this is it. I hope I didn't bore you too much. But then again: you had a choice, didn't you?
Anyway, thanks to anyone who took the time to read and follow my 'adventures' up here in the mountains!

Servus and Grüaß Euch
(Austrian greeting)

Bliss …

I know this might just start to sound boring … but it's been another beautiful day today, going for another wonderful hike up a mountain called Gerzkopf. The Gerzkopf area is a Nature Reserve, a really unique landscape of high-elevation spruce forests, bog forests and mires. The raised bog areas up on top of the mountain are especially impressive: all covered with low shrubs like mountain pine, blueberries and heather, the summit offers a 360° panoramic view of the surrounding mountain ranges, their highest peaks being reflected in the waters of the so-called Schwarze Lacke (black lakes) on the very top of it, lying there like huge oval mirrors in the middle of the marshland. The scent of the mountain pine is so intense in the sun, it smells like somebody ran a giant bath filled with pine needle bubble bath, absolutely overwhelming. Somehow all scents seem to be intensified in this clear clean mountain air. Or maybe it's just that all sensorial perceptions are intensified up here, I don't know. The view again was breathtaking beyond description. Again, taking it all in, I felt so aware of the presence of something, something divine, beyond all this beauty … whatever one wants to call it … creation, God, some kind of universal energy. Grace. Peace. All-embracing love. I have no words for it. But it's pure, strong presence fills me with energy and a deep gratitude for this life.

On our way down we stopped at a sheperd's hut, contemplating the sounds of nature and the somewhat 'boisterous quietness' of the mountains with Bernhard, the shepherd, sitting in between sheep instead of cows for a change. The trail leading downwards was a narrow footpath leading through most bizzare woods and moorland, looking strangely unreal, like some kind of enchanted wonderland. I could have gone on and on, forever walking under these tangly trees, breathing this aromatic air, picking blueberries and cranberries, raspberries and mushrooms, forgetting time and space like a lost child in one of the Grimm's fairy tales.

Coming back to the lodge after this most impressive walking-tour I needed to be by myself. I went down to the brook, trying to collect my thoughts, considering the wonder and beauty of all I have seen and experienced over these past few days. It is all so overwhelming if you're really attentive to what's there around you. One has to walk with the eyes wide open, mindful to the beauty of the world, trying to see everything that is there. We tend to become blind to what is around us too easily, getting used to things, taking them for granted instead of being aware of the small wonders of the world. Seeing the young in the old, the rich in the poor, the beauty in the plain. Sitting there by the water I felt like I was about to burst with happiness, unable to speak about it, unable to share with the others for fear of not finding the right words, as if trying to talk about it might break the charm, spoil the bliss. I felt so close to the group, so much at ease in their company and at the same time totally detached and separate. It was a positive feeling though. Very strange.

Later we went to spend the evening at a friend's place in a tiny village nearby, dining outside, against the terrific backdrop of the sun setting over the Dachstein mountain range. What a view – and yet it was only the 'prelude' to the real sensation to come: the cloudless starry sky! As everything else up here it was just immense. We had a new moon only a couple of days ago so the night was quite dark, making even the most nondescript stars shine brightly. Such a huge amount of stars, I felt all giddy looking up, like my head was spinning, like everything was in motion, like the sky was about to explode. The Milky Way was so clearly visible, it really looked like a broad road paved with diamonds.

I couldn't stop looking at this sky. I still can't. Sitting here on my little balcony in the immense darkness of the mountains, writing by the light of a single candle, I can hear the bats flying by. They are almost noiseless except for the high pitched sound they make every now and then, catching moths or midges, mere silhouettes against the vast blackness of the sky. I think of my friends and loved ones … and as if to acknowledge these thoughts, two shooting stars come down right in front of me, like some celestial sign or greeting … what a night! Those countless, silent stars, orchestrated by the neverending brawl of the brook flowing beneath, reflecting the starlight in it's water.

I try to store all this somewhere deep inside myself, to take it with me when I leave, filling me with peace and quiet energy when I'm back to the bleak prospects of the city. I wish I could forever fill my heart with this beauty, make it immune to the dark thoughts, the grief, the panic eventually arising back home.

Fear my coming sadness … fill my heart with gladness …

Life in the mountains

Today I am going to tell you a little bit about the place where I'm staying, the lodge, the people … in case you were already starting to wonder (I know I'm just so funny) …

The landlady here is quite an Austrian original, an old lady with white plaits laid neatly around her head. She is very nice, always concerned about everybody's well-being, though I must admit that I find it hard to understand her Austrian dialect. It sounds rather like a foreign language than any kind of German to me. Since I am the only one who has never been to Austria before, the others will kindly 'translate' for me … as you may imagine I am a little suspicious of their translations though – they are definitely having me on whenever they start to look real grave and serious!

During the snow-season this is a lodge for skiers and other winter sport enthusiasts while in summer this place is more or less deserted. Mainly it is a farmstead, very modest and simple. One could well call it the total opposite of 'fancy'. Everything is a little bit shabby and not very clean and yet it's really homey for some strange reason. Despite the hens walking in and out of the kitchen (dominated by a huge wood-fired stove that seems to be a relic from another century) and the smell of the stable clinging to everything in the house, despite the inevitable spiders and the myriads of flies that come with the cows, I actually feel pretty comfortable here, like having been here a hundred times before.

What really irritated me when I first arrived was the fact that there are only two toilets in the whole of the house and only one shower, occupied by about everybody. The family, the house guests, the daily visitors, hikers and hunters … and I'm afraid you can tell by the look of them as well. But then I have been using the so-called 'toilets' up on the mountain huts … they are what we call 'thunderboxes', more commonly known as 'backhouses' I think.
Well, whatever you call them, they are tiny wooden shacks with a heart-shaped hole in the door, looking kind of cute from a distance but once you enter them, they loose any charm whatsoever, consisting of nothing much but an incredible smell and a board with a hole over a cesspit. The luxury ones have toilet seats affixed to the wooden plank … not that it makes much of a difference smell-wise … what I mean to say is that – regarding the alternative – I do not find the sanitary circumstances in here quite so bad after all! Considering that all the water in the house comes freshly from a mountain spring, even the water used to flush the toilet, it almost starts to seem like profusion to me!

As you can see, life is quite basic here in the mountains. There is nothing that is not necessary and the few fancy things people own are extremely appreciated, not taken for granted the way they would be in the city. Like electricity. Like a flush toilet. Like hot water for a shower … something that is only ever enough for about two people a day, so you have to take turns in enjoying a hot shower after an exhausting hike. However sweaty and sore you feel, if it's not your turn you'll just have to settle for the ice cold spring water instead (or adhere to what they call 'an alpinist's aroma' up here …)

Yes, life is quite frugal. Some call it primitive but I think 'straightforward' is a better description. One thing depends on another. There's not much fuss made about life and it's circumstances. Life is more direct, more intuitive, people depend on nature and live in close communion with it. Animals are part of people's lifes here, they are not locked out, not separated from the people the way they are at home. Of course this also leads to a certain amount of dirt. You have animals walking in and out of the house all the time, no matter how often you chase them away. Hens, cats, cows, goats. And the insects they bring along. Flies, fleas, mites, I don't want to go into the details, my back starts to itch already … oh, and of course – as mentioned before – all this goes very well with the matching odour, escaping from the stable door, leading into the vestibule and the kitchen. Also these traditional houses are rather damp and dark with their low ceilings and tiny windows, so that there is a certain musty smell on everything.

It reminds me very much of my aunt's farm in the north of Germany where I loved to spend my holidays as a child … a peculiar smell that takes me back to the days of my childhood, playing in a kitchen that was also connected to a stable, with the same amount of flies everywhere around. It's the very same feeling, torn between a certain temporary disgust and a warm feeling of coziness … pure nostalgia …!

… contemplating cattle …

Another day of walking. Maybe not as intense as yesterday but even more exhausting in the long run. Most of our route lead through the burning sun and we were walking rather slow, steadily sloping upwards. The serpentine path seemed to be endlessly winding up. Every bend looked like the one before and I felt like we were moving in circles, walking the same stretch of way over and over again, without ever getting any further. However, at some point it became too hot for me to question what I was doing and I decided to just walk on, without thinking, trying to just be there, concentrating on my steps, my breathing and the sound of nature. Meditative walking. We went like that for five hours and nobody was talking much, sweating in silence. Kind of nice, after all.

Back at the lodge I made myself at home on the bench in front of the house, listening to the water and the crickets. It didn't take very long until I was surrounded by cattle again. These cows are quite curious, nosily inspecting everything new. One has to be careful and duck in time to avoid an ardent lick over the face … their rosy tongues are quite wet and maybe a tiny bit yucky when making sudden and unexpected contact with your skin. I get the impression that they just love salty, sweaty hikers after a long walk!
Have you ever really looked at a cow? I think they do not look stupid at all. They look peaceful, kind and indulgent, glancing somewhat knowingly at the world, almost wise. They have lovely eyelashes, long and silky, making them look kind of coy. How can anybody want to eat such a sweet thing …? The way they stood there beside me, munching away with that dreamy look in their big brown eyes, I felt almost ashamed, belonging to a species of 'beef-eaters' … I do not even eat meat myself and yet I felt like apologizing …

While I sat on that bench, contemplating cattle, I became aware that there are very few birds to be heard, neither at daybreak nor at nightfall. Isn't that strange? Maybe the local firs are just not very inviting to birds. Or maybe the birds are leaving earlier here in the mountains? I really wonder …

Kamplbrunn and the 'Fountain of Youth'

This is my first week in Austria. Everything is so much more beautiful than I ever expected. After arriving at Salzburg Airport last Wednesday the landscape became more and more beautiful with every kilometre we drove towards the Dachstein and Tennen mountain range. I'm staying in a lodge in a valley that looks like a scenery out of a 1950's technicolor movie, almost too idyllic to be true. The houses are built in the traditional austrian style, lots of dark wood and carvings and large balconies decorated with jardinières, overflowing with geranium and petunias. I have an attic room with a small balcony just for myself, overlooking large meadows and hills and a fantastic view of the Dachstein and Bischofsmütze. There is a mountain stream flowing beside the alley, it's riverbed almost dry now but you can tell by the size and depth of it and by the velocity and strength of even this little rivulet, how enormous it must be when the snow melts in spring. The babbling and brawling of this brook is a neverending noise, so constant that I do not really notice it anymore, lulling me to sleep at night and waking me in the early hours of the morning. Yet it's the most calming of sounds when I sit by the riverbed, listening consciously.

The valley is full of horses, cattle and sheep, grazing wherever they want, loose and free of any fences. More often than not the cows will decide to go for a short rest and settle down right in the middle of the small alley, causing cars and everybody else to either wait patiently or get out and shoo them away. They are wearing bells around their necks and their ringing is another constant in this landscape, together with the wind and the crickets. Apart from that there is an all-embracing silence, rarely broken by the sound of an odd agricultural vehicle or a human voice. Going up into the mountains it's even more quiet, but noises differ nonetheless. I heard the marmots whistle, surprisingly loud, the sound – as every noise – being echoed and amplified by the scarps. Climbing even higher you're in complete silence except for the wind and the occasional hissing noise of debris sliding down the scree fields, often indicating a small herd of chamois, which are simply astonishing to look at, climbing the steepest crags without any visible sign of effort.

We decided to climb a crest called 'Kamplbrunn' today, with a summit height of about 2,200 metres (7,200 ft.). It's name derives from a natural spring, that is – according to an old celtic legend – a 'fountain of youth', rejuvenating anybody who drinks from it's water. Unfortunately though, we never found this mystic spring, so I can neither negate nor affirm it's fabulous virtues ..! What I found instead – to my immense surprise – were Nepalese prayer flags, tied to the cross on the summit. I found this rather amazing until a local woman told me that there are Nepali mountaineers at a nearby alpine hut, placing their prayer flags on certain summits. I must say that I rather like the way they attach them to the traditional summit crosses, creating an unusual blend of christian and buddhist symbols.

After several days of merely hiking from hut to hut on marked trails, 'Kamplbrunn' was to become my first real 'mountaineering' tour, although we hadn't really planned that way. We were starting out with a group of six people modestly aiming for a snack at an alpine hut, but getting there in less than two hours most of us wanted to continue. After talking to our guide we split up, two women walked on to another hut, planning to wait for the rest of us to join them after descending from 'Kamplbrunn'. When the trail became steeper and steeper the two guys also decided to revert to the lodge, so that it was just me and the guide going on up. The trail became really steep and I couldn't make out any kind of footpath anymore, pulling me up with my hands while searching for some kind of hold with my feet. I could feel my heart pounding like mad and my legs getting weak. There was a moment when I thought I wouldn't make it until the guide told me we were almost there and that I would soon be rewarded for my effort. And so I was!

The view from Kamplbrunn was breathtaking, overlooking a huge part of the Northern Limestone Alps and Central Eastern Alps with their higher peaks going up to 4,000 metres (13,000 ft). For as far as I could see, there were mountains, mountains and more mountains, what a sight, what a feeling! It was pretty windy, narrow and slippery up there and I didn't trust myself in having really overcome my usual fear of heights, so I preferred to sit down beneath the prayer flags, cross-legged and silent, absorbing the beauty of everything around me. As if reading my thoughts the guide took off and sat quietly on a rock in the background without ever disturbing my silent dialogue with life and nature, the earth … the universe … It was such an overwhelming moment, all alone under that enormous sky, surrounded by nothing but mountains and stillness. Right behind me I could see the 'Bischofsmütze' (which means 'Bishop's mitre' – and that's what it looks like), to my left was a glacier, reflecting the sunlight and the blue of the sky while another snow-covered mountain was gleaming red with some kind of minerals. In front of me there was a deep crevice in the rock, making me feel kind of giddy looking down … and quite happy to to be seated firmly on the ground!

In the end I had to stand up and face the fact that I couldn't stay there forever. Preparing for the descend I was a bit worried, having been told before that it's easier to go up than down a steep slope. I didn't like the idea of having to face the depth but the guide told me to concentrate on what was right in front of me, concentrating on the path in front of my foot only, avoiding to look anywhere else. What can I say, I made it … with slightly strained knees maybe, but surprisingly sure of step and light of heart! Quite happy that I neither slipped nor stumbled I reached the others at the lodge, welcoming me in disbelief, never expecting I would actually make it all the way to the top …
Despite my usual discomfort at being praised by anybody, I must admit that I felt rather proud when the guide told me it was hard to believe I was the most inexperienced of the group, telling me I seem to have 'a natural feeling' for the mountains, moving skilfully and prudent like a 'mountain goat'. He also said that he didn't get the impression I was suffering from any kind of acrophobia, but that it's probably all in my head, that it's quite natural to feel a certain giddyness looking up or down extreme heights if I am not used to them and that it will get better with experience. He always tells people NOT to look down when crossing a narrow ridge or trail because most people only start to feel a fear of height once they start thinking about it, causing them to be inattentive or become insecure, prone to stumble or loose their balance. As long as one concentrates on the way only, thinking of nothing but what is ahead and necessary, everything would be fine. Well, so much to that. We'll see in how far he's right on one of our next ventures I guess …

Oh, what a day! Coming back here to the lodge, into my room, I felt physically exhausted but mentally quite alert, excited and peaceful, all at the same time. I guess any experienced mountain hiker or climber will read all this with either an amused or a condescending smile … but to me it's all new and exciting, so please – be indulgent to my childlike enthusiasm …!

Anything is one of a million paths …

(un camino entre cantidades de caminos)

... Look at every path closely and deliberately. Try it as many times as you think necessary. Then ask yourself, and yourself alone the question, "Does this path have a heart?" If it does, the path is good. If it doesn't, it is of no use.

Carlos Castaneda, 'The Teachings of Don Juan'

Ready to leave ...

Finished! I think I got everything done. I packed for the weekend and what I need for Austria next week and now I'm technically ready to leave but I decided I'll wait until tomorrow morning, get up early and take off then. Somehow the idea of driving into the rainy night and being for several hours on the road is not really inviting. And I know myself. The possibility of the attic being under water won't let me rest. I'll go up there as soon as I arrive and whatever I find might just keep me from sleeping. Again. And I feel I could do with a little rest.

I have had a whole week now to consider this roof problem and I didn't come up with a solution. I got used to the thought, the panic left and what remains is a slight feeling of unease. I have spent whole days looking for answers but in the end I had to accept that there is definitely not a lot I can do about the whole thing. I can either go mad while it rains in the attic or I can let it rain inside, trying to remain calm. The effect will be the same. Wet. So I think I'll just opt for the second. With going to Austria for the rest of the month I have to leave the roof behind anyway and shouldn't charge my mind with thinking too much of what might happen. When I get there tomorrow I'll see if things turned any worse over the week I've been away and I'll fix what I can (buckets and plastic sheet ..) but that's it. I can not avoid this problem for long, with autumn and winter ahead I sure have to get the roof repaired, no matter what. I guess the only way is to apply for a mortgage, just I'm not so sure the bank will cooperate. After all, the house is in desolate condition and not of much value for the bank. But again, I'll wait until next month before I start worrying. Wish me luck in remaining calm over the weekend, whatever awaits me there. I hope to be able to go to Austria without worrying all the time …

So that's it for the time being. I'll be back at the end of August (if I do not fall off a mountain).

(Can you believe … this is all I'm gonna take with me for a fortnight in the mountains ... I want to avoid having to check in luggage, it steals so much time waiting for that stuff after arrival. I love to travel light …)

Take care, all of you out there!

Midday musing

Let's face it, I'm pretty confused today. Even more than usual. It started with waking up at a time when I'm normally about to have lunch. I opened my eyes and found myself at a complete loss for orientation. It took several seconds (seemingly minutes) until I finally realized that no, I had not overslept and I was not meant to work today (insert sigh of relief here). It was Friday morning (well, quasi) and I've been attending a concert by Uruguay based band 'La Vela Puerca' yesterday night, which obviously ended in staying a bit late after the show, contemplating life, age and people with a friend and some strangers. And, well ... staring for hours at the most awesome face I have seen in years! Just to avoid confusion: not the awful kind of awesome but awesome as in fascinating, almost supernatural. A combination of a very young Sofia Loren and a classic russian ballerina. I simply couldn't stop looking at so much beauty and grace, radiating pure elegance, emphasized even more by the fact that all this seemed strangely out of place in this crowd of ska devotees. And no, I'm not gay. But I might admit to a slight homoamorous tendency, which is NOT about sexual attraction though. Sometimes I'm fascinated by somebody and whatever it is that attracts me to this person, it's certainly not dependent on them being either male or female. Maybe I'm some kind of 'asexual bisexual', if there is any such thing. If not, we'll have to invent it ...

However. It was about half three when I finally got home, realizing that my answering machine flashed like mad, indicating that it was about to burst with messages. Which is pretty unusual. Deciding to relieve the poor thing I started to scan the messages, finding they were more or less all from my sister. I hadn't checked the messages all week, I really forgot (as usual). Okay, so my sister's voice talked on and on, telling me at last (about half an hour later) that she had sent me an e-mail this very night and that she expected me to go read it IMMEDIATELY. Now, this more than surprised me. Between one thing and another my sister isn't really the kind of person you'd imagine in front of a computer screen. And from what I know she's not actually much of a writer. Unlike me she's a passionate telephone user (avoiding the word 'addict' here).
Well, she really got me curious and despite the time I couldn't help but turn on the Mac and check out this mysterious e-mail. What can I say ... what I found certainly made my day (or night in this case). My sister had actually written an account of our recent walking-tour in the Volcanic Eifel. Slowly recovering from the shocking fact that she had even managed to produce a Word document and attach it to the mail (when did she learn these advanced techniques?), I opened this miraculous thing ... and almost immediately went into side-splitting laughter. The way she pictured our walking experience made me almost roll on the floor and before I was finished with the first page I had tears of laughter streaming down my face, which was already starting to hurt with the unaccustomed use of all those normally idle muscles. I really laughed so hard that my whole body hurt afterwards. The next door neighbour must have thought I was finally going bonkers, coming home in the early hours of the day, cracking with laughter all alone in the apartment. I had no idea my sister was such a gifted writer. That story was so hilarious, so riproaringly funny, really like one of David Sedaris' essays. Maybe she should be the one blogging. Maybe I should encourage her to write more, it's such a waste of talent if she doesn't.

So. That's what kept me up last night, causing me to sleep till all hours, waking up disoriented and being in a bit of time pressure now. Because. What I'm really meant to do is prepare for leaving. In a doubled sense. I have to pack and prepare to go south, to check on my 'dear little ruin of a house', emptying water buckets and do likewise pleasant stuff and also I have to pack and prepare to go to Austria as soon as I'm back. And what do I do instead? Find myself blogging again. This really has to stop, it can't go on like this. Look, it's almost four o'clock and I still haven't done anything useful. I have to empty the washing machine, do the dish washing, get organized. I have to make a list of things to take with me for the weekend. Another list of things for Austria. Actually I'll also have to pack the things for Austria before I leave because there'll be no time to spare, being home on Monday and leaving again on Tuesday. I'm so very undisciplined. This weather is so paralysing, grey, cold and rainy. Blue Wren might just like it, unfortunately I don't. It makes my joints ache and my brain go slow. I can't think and I can't plan. Ah, it's pointless, I'll have to start. I will. Now. Promise ...

I've been tagged ... what next?

Everyday something new to learn - I'm not sure I'll ever catch up on all these blogging terms and 'rituals' ...

After having been decidedly (and successfully) introduced to the world of the meme last week, making me believe I was off the hook for the time being, I came home today to find I've been tagged. Or is it 'tapped'? Anyway, Blue Wren invited me to 'play' and I'm not quite sure whether "thank you" is the adequate answer, when in fact I feel a wee bit, well, confused about this new challenge ... Do you have some kind of secret agreement, trying out what it takes to make me uneasy? Just kiddin' ... but still. I really don't know about this one.

Five weird things about me? Are you serious? I'm not sure whether I'll come up with either far too many to name them or having to make some up in the end, for lack of real life quirks ... Let me think ... maybe I should be spontaneous about this one ... what is weird about me ...

... (brooding) ...

Okay, here's one thing for a start:
I have this habit of walking in the dark. I really like it. Both inside and outside the house. I have been going for nightly walks in our local forest for years. I would wander through the wood, memorizing every branch of the way, every turn and every shortcut until I knew where to raise my feet to avoid stumbling over a certain root or where to leave the way to avoid the mud after a period of rain. I didn't have to see, I just knew my way, walking confident and sure of step. This went so far, that after some time I actually had problems to find my way in the wood at daytime. I knew what a certain tree looked like in the moonlight, how it's outline resembled an indian chief on a horse, but I never recognised this tree and the left turn it indicated when I went there for an afternoon walk. I also have this habit of walking around inside the house at night, without ever turning on the light. I like to get a feeling for the distances, for the whereabouts of things, without having to see them. So I might get up at night, feeling thirsty, go into the kitchen and fetch myself a drink, all in complete darkness. Like a vampire ... Mostly this works just fine. Sometimes I hurt my toes real bad though, not taking movable objects into account. And recently I had to discover that 'Aceto balsamico' isn't a good choice when really desperate for a drink at night ...

And while writing this, I came up with another one, here's No. 2:
Some of my friends find it actually a bit weird that I manage to spend whole afternoons in DIY stores, strolling through shelves full of tools, fittings, wood, mountings, tiles and other useful stuff. Myself I really can not see anything weird in this and frequently wonder what's so strange about the fact that actually I do not only like to look at all the above mentioned stuff but in fact enjoy working with it even more. I like plastering walls, tiling, building, whatever. Even installing the underfloor heating system. No guts no glory, girls.

I gotta think about No. 3 for a moment ... oh, right:
I absolutely NEVER enter the inside of a taxi. I conceive a deep abhorrence for taxi cabs, don't know why. I find it highly unnatural to be sitting next to a complete stranger for one thing (you're not expected to sit in the back seat of a taxi in Germany), talking trifle and exchanging insignificant information about traffic and the weather in an atmosphere of anonymity and time pressure. I also have this inexplicable feeling of the situation being somehow improper. It's really beyond rational explanation, I just can't do it. I'll rather walk five or six miles instead.

Here's No. 4:
I have a thing with the smell of books. I always sniff at them first, even before looking at the content. I really don't like books that have a musty or niffy smell on them. Did you know that an English or American book for example smells distinctly different from a German book? I think it has to do with the kind of paper that is used, or the bleaching of the paper, or maybe whether it's coated or uncoated paper. However, there's a certain smell of paper that I really love and it's pure bliss if I discover a book that combines an interesting content with a beautiful cover and this certain 'scent'. It'll sure become one of my favourites ...

And finally ...No. 5!!
I absolutely and tremendously loathe moths. Not the small ones but anything from the size of a small butterfly upwards. You know, that furry kind of moths with real chubby bodies, that leave yucky, kind of powdery, black marks on everything they touch? They have this really hectic, uncoordinated way of flying, very different from a normal butterfly. Ugh, I hate to admit it, but I absolutely detest them and I almost freak out when I have one inside my room. Since I still cannot kill them (not out of fear - out of pity!) I have a real problem. It's some kind of phobia. I would rather spend the night sleeping on the kitchen floor than putting a foot inside a room with a big black furry moth in it. Apart from that I have no problem with other insects (despite being allergic to insect stings I really don't bother much).

Now, isn't this weird!?

Hola Chris ...

¡Hola Chris, mi amiga maravillosa! Muchísimas gracias por (¿was heißt eigentlich "zuhören" auf spanisch?) ... Here I'm already lost for words with my poor spanish! Hab' gar nicht gemerkt, wie spät es schon war, als ich gegangen bin, thank you so much, fühl' mich trotz allem irgendwie besser ... muchos saludos y un beso fuerte ...

¡Aprovecha el día!

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Here's one for you today (to practice your english ...)

Oh, the comfort, the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person; having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but to pour them all out, just as they are, chaff and grain together, knowing that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and then, with a breath of kindness, blow the rest away.

(George Eliot)

A man of peace ...

A man of peace is not a pacifist; a man of peace is simply a pool of silence.

He pulsates a new kind of energy into the world. He sings a new song. He lives in a totally new way. His very way of life is that of grace, that of prayer, that of compassion. Whomsoever he touches, he creates more love energy.

The man of peace is creative. He is not against war, because to be against anything is to be at war. He is not against war; he simply understands why war exists. And out of that understanding he becomes peaceful. Only when there are many people who are pools of peace, silence, understanding, will war disappear.

(Osho)

The 'Just About Average' Meme

Okay, I got the message! Thank you Dearmeid for enlightening me on the mysteries of the 'meme'. I must admit that I still don't see the way those memes are used here as doing the initial meaning justice, but however, I filled in the one you sent me, here it is. Hope you appreciate it - the thing took me two hours to complete because I wanted to be really thorough.

Well, it's about time to leave this 'rotten' place, leave the buckets to themselves and pray for the roof to remain in place. While I prepare for my three hours drive, here you have something to read (and don't dare telling me I'm not being personal enough ...)


Lillebroers 'Just About Average' Meme

• Three pastimes that make you feel really good...
- watching clouds and stars, listening to nature's sounds, walking & wandering.


• How would your friends describe you on a good day?
- loyal/faithful, helpful, witty, imaginative, sympathetic, reliable.


• ... and on a bad day ..?
- impatient, nerdy, iffy, prejudiced, moody, reserved, smart-assed.


• What are you reading at the moment?
- I could read the sky/Timothy O'Grady, Moment by Moment/Jerry Braza.


• Are you terrified of spiders?
- No, but of big furry moths. Nasty!


• What would you do with one million dollars?
- Repair my house..? - Quit work and travel, I guess, spending my life wondering ...


• Is there something you really loathe?
- waste of any kind, injustice, betrayal, ruthlessness, greed.


• What is the average amount of money you spend each day?
- As much as necessary and as little as possible.


• When have you been heartbroken for the last time?
- literally heartbroken? As in 'falling out of love'? Ages ago.


• If you could choose any place in the world, where would you live?
- wherever I can feel at home and at ease, not one specified place.


• What time do you normally go to bed/get up?
- go to bed at around 1 a.m. Often later. Get up at about 8 a.m


• What do you typically eat for breakfast?
- Eat..? I have a tiny glass of café cortado and maybe a banana. Sorry. Not very healthy, I know.


• Who has been the biggest influence on your life?
- My grandfather, 'Opa Daddy'.


• What was your first car?
- A bright orange 1975 Citroën 2CV with flower patterned seats and Jim Morrison's silhouette on the boot panel.


• And your favourite song to blast while driving it?
- Janis Joplin's 'Bobby McGee' and Melanie's 'What Have They Done To My Song, Ma?'


• Who was the first male actor you have ever fancied?
- Gregory Peck in 'The Yearling' and Michael Landon as 'Little Joe' when I was about eight.


• What colour are your bedroom walls painted?
- A shade I would desribe as dark cornflower blue, very spirit-soothing.


• What size is the last pair of jeans you've bought?
- I don't know. 27/32 or 28/32 maybe.


• As a kid, what did you want to be when you grow up?
- A ballet dancer. But my spine dissented at age 14 so I decided to become a designer instead.


• Which foreign language would you like to master?
- I wish I had never given up Gaelic, it's a beautiful language but a bit out of use... Apart from that, Spanish.


• Who do you think is the most attractive male celeb of our time?
- I kind of like Keanu Reeves, Kevin Spacey, Michael Stipe, Billy Crudup, John Malkovich. Oh, I forgot one: the German football goalkeeper, Jens Lehmann.
There's also some females I find rather attractive, like Scarlett Johansson, Julianne Moore, Nastassia Kinski and Christy Turlington ... what they have in common, I have no clue.


• What's your favourite piece of jewelry?
- I don't really wear any jewellery except for my claddagh ring. I got it in 1988 and I'm afraid it's about to disintegrate...


• High heels or sneakers?
- neither nor. I like 'chaplinesque' vintage kind of boots. Or Havaianas. Or going barefoot.


• Is there a sex symbol that leaves you totally cold?
- Brad Pitt


• What attracts you in the opposite sex?
- mainly: charisma, personality, thoughtfulness, sensitivity, profoundness, kindness, humour.
what helps: a certain smile, dimples, a warm complexion, a touch of freckles, a firm handshake and walking step, a height between 5'7 and 6'2, warm eyes, nice hands, defined cheekbones, a slight melancholy, and, and, and... ;-).


• What do you believe in?
- kindness


• Your favourite food or dish?
- vegetables, fruit, cheese. As a dish, Palak Paneer.


• What's your signature scent?
- it used to be 'Yvresse' but I don't really use any perfume these days - so most likely it will be Lactovit bodylotion ... very unexciting.


• Who's your favourite artist?
- Andy Goldsworthy! And others from all different eras.


• Who were the idols of your childhood?
- Pippi Longstocking, Catweazle, Sandy Ricks (of the TV Series 'Flipper'), Mr. Rossi (Signor Rossi)


• Is there an invention you could do without?
- Telephone and TV

Rotten roof - good for fitness!

Well, here I am again, still clueless concerning the wretched roof. What can I do, anyway? When the staircase broke last year, I could just live with it, fixing it for as long as it will last (prepared to put up a ladder once the stairs come down completely) while trying to save up the money for a new staircase in the meantime. The sum I will need for the staircase seemed to be such a huge amount already, when it was in fact just about one quarter of this new cost for the roof.
All this seems so abstract to me that I'm not really able to carefully consider the problem. Yet again, I find myself thinking, what is there to be considered? The money just isn't there, that's a fact that will not change overnight. And it will not be there next month or at the end of the year or whenever. It's a sum that is totally out of reach for me from what I know now.

At least the rain has stopped temporarily. Going up to the attic all the time, checking buckets, can be pretty unnerving. I keep thinking of how ironic it would be, if the staircase chose to break completely with me carrying all those buckets down now. I would have a real problem then ... so am I not just lucky things are still the way they are?

All I can do right now is accepting the very fact that there's nothing I can do except maybe, trying to make sure the damage isn't getting any worse. Sure things won't get any better if I panic. I'll have to go through all possible options and see what can be done. For now the buckets will just have to do ... while writing this I had the idea that I might go and buy some of those plastic sheets that are used to cover floors while painting or decorating. Maybe that prevents the wet from soaking through to the rooms below.

And see the positive aspect in this ... going up and down the stairs all day is a good way to keep fit, now that the weather outside isn't really encouraging a good walk..!

The dubious pleasures of property ... and the rain.

This German weather is just unreal. After the unusual heat of the last months, it now seems like we're back to early April or something. It has been raining like mad for at least 48 hours. Days seem endless and I'm loosing any track of time. Outside everything seems to be under water, the wind is still unbelievable and every now and then the rain turns into heavy hail. Frightening but also fascinating.

I sit in my house and I actually have a fire on in the stove. What a strange summer, from one extreme to another. I came here after a neighbour phoned to say that my roof had been damaged. Slowly it feels like this house is just about to collapse right on top of me. Everything makes the strangest noises, squeaking and creaking like in an old horror movie. The storm has broken many roof tiles and now the rain is coming into the attic, seeping through the floorboards, drenching the bedroom ceiling. I put up a whole lot of buckets and a baby bath tub to catch the rain and hope this will do for the moment. I've already phoned the local roof tilers to have them take a look and hopefully repair the damage. They'll come over any time now, or so I hope, meanwhile I'm waiting, staring out into the rain, writing, listening to all the dripping, high and low.
It's such a melancholic mood outside, slow and tranquil, timeless. I like it and I dislike it at the same time. Looking out I wish I could be in the garden. I'm trying to sweet-talk the raingods into a short break but don't seem to be successfull in my attempts. Which means I have to go out and get wet, fetching more firewood from the shed. I mean, it's not like it's really that cold in here, but it's damp and kind of chilly and anyway, I really like the noise of the sizzling fire, the crackling sound of the red-hot logs turning into charcoal, looking like they're breathing and alive.

This place might be cosy if it wasn't for the overall condition of the house. It's in a really bad state. Nobody I know would want to stay here and still I like it. I have this dream of restoring it, making it a more welcoming and friendly place. Which it unfortunately isn't by any means right now.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Well, the roof guy left and I've been walking through the house like a ghost, talking to myself, for the last half hour or so. I'm still kind of paralyzed by what he told me and can't think straight. I guess this might be one of the rare occasions where I feel like making a phone call to get rid of the tangle of words inside my head, but since I do not have a phone here and don't actually feel like walking all the way up to my aunt's place, this will just have to do.
Looks like it's been an absurd idea, assuming I'll ever manage to maintain this ruin of a house. As usual I seem to have been too naive, carried away by wishful thinking. I wasn't aware of how soon the condition of the house might get worse and how much money it takes to mend things.
The roof guy was pretty shocked too, but unfortunately not by the damage caused by the storm. He said that were minor repairs compared to the overall condition of the roof. The worst thing seems to be that the roof is so derelict that it's probably impossible to repair the new damage without causing the rest of the roof to come down. The tiles are too old and the wood construction is partly rotten so they will not take the risk of walking around on it. I asked him about the costs for all necessary repairs but he said he couldn't be precise without a carpenter inspecting the beams and laths first, that it was hard to say how much of the wood needed to be replaced. He would estimate the costs to be between 5.000 and 8.000 Euros if the roof truss was more or less o.k and didn't need complete renewal, which might easily double the costs. What he actually said was that I was "lucky" the roof is rather small, which would keep the price within reasonable limits. Reasonable limits, talking of five to eight thousand Euros! I really had to swallow hard. If I didn't have this slight dislike of booze, I guess I might have just drowned the whole problem in alcohol. Instead I grabbed a chocolate bar (sure sign of panic) and started wandering up and down the house after the roof tiler left. And here I am now. Wondering about the fact that there are actually people out there who wouldn't find this in any way threatening. They'd probably be vexed for a moment, then make an appointment to have it fixed. Just like that.

Oh what a start into the weekend.

Thinking of Jimmy ...

... who's always on my mind and forever in my heart ...

I know that in the end, these words are just for me, you will never read them nor will I ever say them aloud. And yet I have to address you, admitting to the guilt I am carrying for so long now, haunting me forever, I guess. I feel I do not deserve to be forgiven, while I know you probably would. I remember you that way. Forgiving. Shining from within, even in your darkest hours. But I'm no longer sure about what I thought I knew. Maybe you weren't like that at all.

There are no words to express just how sorry I am. My sense of guilt has become an essential part of me over the last 14 years, always present, never do I forget. It's right there, every single day I am aware of my betrayal. I let you down, because I thought I couldn't cope with the situation. I chose the easiest and most cowardly way out, without a chance for you to understand, disappearing from your life just as suddenly und unexpectedly as I had appeared all those years before. I didn't think of the consequences. I didn't think of how I might hurt you. When I realised, it was too late.

You know how I have always been kind of timid, but this was different - I was panic-stricken by the thought of how everything might continue. It terrified me to see your condition getting constantly worse with the MS progressing so fast. Trying to protect my own feelings, I selfishly sacrificed what we had shared. A relationship so fragile, so precious. Life put me on a test and I failed. All I could see was my own suffering, blind for your needs, fears or hopes. I had felt so mature, so grown up, when in fact I hid like a child at the first touch of fear. I felt I couldn't console you, I couldn't encourage you, I felt needless, dispensable and stupid. It didn't occur to me that for once this wasn't about me, about my needs or fears. It was about you. I should have just been there, listening for once, instead of talking. Returning some of your loyalty.

I wish I could have just left it at that when you said you weren't sure about our relationship turning into more than friendship, because part of my beauty for you was the fact that you could never lose me, having never won me in the first place. You were so determined not to get involved, trying to protect yourself from getting hurt, but I wouldn't let things rest. I had my ways in finally making you say what I wanted to hear, until - so unlike me - you ignored your fear and took the risk, opting for truth. "My fate is in your hands now...", you said. And we both know how little I cherished your honesty. I did not deserve your friendship nor love for mine wasn't worth a thing. I made you say what you never wanted to say. I made you trust in me. I made you vulnerable. I let you down. All for my ego. Something else you said, quoting Oscar Wilde: "It's better to lose the woman you love than to win her and discover how shallow she is". Well, I proved him right, didn't I? That's the thing I can't forgive myself, most of all. That I sacrificed your faith for my vanity.

I have always believed that every person we meet in our life, we meet for a certain reason. No encounter is by chance and certainly our's wasn't. I do not know whether I was meant to come into your life or you into mine, but I surely made a mess of it, no matter how you look at it. I know by now what my lesson was and I think I have learned it. I'm still paying the price. I'm just so sorry it had to happen on your expense.

I will never forget you. I will never forgive myself. Wherever you are. This is your birthday.


For J. T.

---------------------------------

Chan eil eòl air an t-slighe
th'aig fiarachd cham a' chridhe
's chan eil eòl air a'mhilleadh
do'n tàrr gun fhios a cheann-uidhe.

Chan eil eòlas, chan eil eòlas
air crìch dheireannaich gach tòrachd
no air seòltachs nan lùban
leis an caill i a cùrsa.

-----------------------------------------

Nobody knows the way
that crooked and warped the heart will seek
and nobody knows the doom
that unknowingly it leads to.

There's no insight, no insight
into the true outcome of all craving
nor the complicated swerves
in which it disappears.

-----------------------------------------

Niemand kennt jenen Weg
den krumm und kurvenreich das Herz sich sucht
und niemand kennt jenes Verderben,
dem es ahnungslos entgegenstrebt.

Es gibt keine Erkenntnis, keine Erkenntnis
des wahren Endes eines jeden Trachtens,
noch der komplizierten Schlangenlinien
in denen es sich verliert.


(Somhairle Mac Gill-Eain)

Fluent

I would love to live
like a river flows,
carried by the surprise
of it's own unfolding.

(John O'Donohue)

Thank you, Gideon Levy!

I've just discovered Gideon Levy's editorials in Ha'aretz, an Israeli newspaper which I only knew for (prize winning) journalist Amira Hass's columns so far. Ha'aretz is a rather highbrow newspaper, published in Hebrew and English, also operating an online edition (you might find interesting to have a look at, if you're interested in politics at all). It's slightly left of center in it's views.
Somehow it's reassuring to know there is good to be found on the Israeli side as well. Not every one there is pro-war.

Check out Gideon Levy's articles on Ha'aretz.com (just click on the link below):
+++ Days of darkness +++ (July 30, 2006)