Acceptance

Thank you to all of my loyal readers - yes there are some of you out there. These last few posts are very overdue. There wasn't any time to write them while I was still traveling and then once I got home, it really doesn't feel as though I was ever really traveling at all. It seems kind of like a dream.

But it wasn't. After France my Mother and I hopped on a train to Amsterdam. This country is by far in my top three countries I have been to. I felt like Alice in Wonderland while walking down the streets, but I think that is a good thing. For example bikes are really popular in Amsterdam. Some people even strap on a back seat and charge tourists money to be carted around. This was something my Mom and I just had to experience. So we hopped into a bicycle/car that had a zebra print frame. It's only appropriate.

First our driver took us to the wrong end of the city, so once he realized this, without telling us, he biked us 40 minutes to the other side of the city. All the while talking to us in Spanish and he also got stung by a bee. After all of this went down he asked us to get out of his cab (I guess he got tired of carting round over 300 pounds of human weight.) We paid, got out, and realized we had no idea where we were. A feeling that really encompasses Amsterdam!

The famous "coffee" shop. This made an appearance in Oceans 12.

Pot isn't legal, it's just decriminalized. Heroin is a much bigger problem, so the government feels that it's more important to spend money on fixing the Heroin problem then fixing a Marijauna problem. After all, you can't die from Pot. (Perhaps America should take this on as a format for their own "war" on drugs.)

Anyway, just follow the smell and you will find a "coffee" shop. It's an interesting enterprise and the set-up is pretty cool and professional. You can go in and order a cappuccino and the finest herb rolled into a perfect joint if you really wanted to.

Canals, canals, canals

The door to Anne Frank's hideaway.

I have seen the Jewish Cemetery in Prague, the Jewish Memorial in Berlin, Hitler's Bunker, the American Cemetery in Normandy, Omaha Beach and Anne Frank's Annex. WWII came full circle during my travels.

There isn't really a way for me to describe what that feels like, because even though I have seen all of these things, I still can't imagine what it would be like to live behind a bookcase in fear all the time.

This was a son of wealthy tea importer during the East India Company's reign. He started taking over to learn the ropes and was horrified at how all of the low class workers were treated. So he came back to Amsterdam and started writing about what he saw under the pen name Multatuli. This literally translates in Dutch to "I have ejaculated," but to the Dutch, it means "I have carried much." Well since that's in the past tense, maybe he was able to lighten his load...if you know what I mean.

If you notice, the house to the right is leaning out a little bit. Every other house is shifted like this b/c the halls are so narrow that people have to bring their furnishings in by pulley outside the windows. But I think this just adds to the whole "Alice in Wonderland" feel.

This was once the Jewish Quarter. After WWII was over, the people of Amsterdam felt that something had to be done to brighten up this part of the city to help people move on. So they let those studying at the city's art institutes design and paint the buildings. This was when cubism was really popular, if you can notice or not.

Just one small example of how popular biking is as an alternative in Amsterdam.

One thing that was really cool about Amsterdam is how accepting it is as a country. Yes they allow prostitution and you can buy weed from a store in broad daylight, but it's more than that. They have a huge memorial to Homosexuality on one street and they are one of the only countries that is known for actually protesting Jewish treatment during WWII on the streets. The rioted and protested and helped beat Nazi soldiers when civilians started seeing what was really going on in the Jewish Quarter.

I think that is amazing and something that should really be focused on. And you could feel the acceptance in the air. People weren't afraid of being who they were and displaying it proudly.

Quality over quantity

I proudly admitted in my last post that, of course I am reading another Malcolm Gladwell book. One I am desperately trying to hold onto until my flight, but my last day in Rome was spent by a swimming pool in 90 degree weather so I am 2/3's of the way through with it. I don’t think 1/3 of a book is going to sustain a transcontinental flight. (Can you believe I am coming home...and EVERYONE should read Malcolm Gladwell books!)

One of many passages in this book have really caught my attention and I keep rolling it around and around in my head. It’s a really meaningful study on relationships and the context they create in our lives.

Social scientists have been able to put backing to human’s natural threshold to understand, process and hold onto information. It is called our “channel capacity.” When using it for categories such as dividing between pitch changes in a song or the amount of sugar in different drinks, humans can usually differentiate up to six points on the spectrum. After that, tastes and sounds begin to blur together. That is why telephone numbers are only 7 digits long, b/c after that humans would begin to forget them and many wrong numbers would be dialed.

The same idea applies to human relationships, called the social channel limit. We only have the space to foster so many personal relationships. And by relationships Gladwell means, not just the ones for acquaintences or colleagues at work, but the ones where you really know someone and understand their strengths and weaknesses. Because let’s face it, to have a really good friend requires an investment of time and energy and feeling. Things that just can’t be expended on random people. (Really think about how much energy it takes to actually feel something. It's probably more energy than you work out during a gym session.)

British anthropologist, Robin Dunbar explains that the neocortex of a human brain, the part responsible for complex thought and reasoning, is the biggest of all mammals. We can handle having relationships that branch out beyond just a few people. Dunbar came up with a ratio that shows the relationship of the neocortex to the size of the brain as a whole. It gets larger as you head up the chain of primates, but Homo Sapiens maximize at a ratio estimate of roughly 150. This represents the maximum number of people we can have a genuine relationship with. The number of people within a circle of friends or group of people that “you would not feel embarrassed about joining uninvited for a drink if you happened to bump into them in a bar.” Gladwell's words, not mine!

So does this seem a little crazy or frou-frou to you? Sure social science can sometimes be easily disregarded, but if you look around you, examples of the 150 group limit pop up all over. Hunter-gatherer tribes from the Walbiri of Australia to the Tauade of New Guinea or the Ammassalik of Greenland to the Ona of Tierra del Fuego, the average group rate is 148. Units in the military don’t exceed 150 people and many Hutterite clans (distant relatives to the Amish or Mennonites) have a policy that splits the clan in half once it hits a capacity of 150. The Gore-Tex company does the same thing once a plant hits that magic number. (And it seems to be working for them b/c they have brought in growth earnings consistently for the past 35 years.)

These findings make relationships more meaningful. There is science behind the way we categorize the people in our lives and it puts a backing into the way we feel. I like that, b/c I would agree with the description that many have given me about the meaning I attach to the people in my lives. I can admit that I am horribly emotionally stunted about 85% of the time, but I care deeply about those that I let in my life. Whether it's for a lifetime or a brief period of time. I like the effort that goes into getting to know someone and doing something nice for them. Something, whether it is a gift or compliment or sympathy or a good laugh, that is perfectly tailored to them, that you know they will just love and appreciate. Those in my group of 150 know that even my most monotonous tone or lack of ability to handle crying or even hold your hand for more than 3 seconds is just a barrier behind all the things I really mean and want to say, which is, I am really glad you're in my life! You're worth the effort! (What can I say, I am a work in progress!)

When in Rome

I am in Europe so rule number one, I should be smoking, right? I mean seriously, when in Rome, do as the Roman’s do. I should just light one of those sticks of style up and blow the smoke out in rings hoping that it captures the essence of what I think would give me the final missing piece to my trip.

I will admit it, I have indulged in a clove or two or three…packs in high school. During the time when I was trying to prove that I was a bad ass and didn’t need to fit into the confines of any criteria, while still following the rules of my rural, girly and protected upbringing. Then of course it lead to a pattern of having a Black and Mild 3-4 times a week in college. A relationship I found myself in at that point in my life depended on long conversations sitting in my car while swapping the cheap stoagie back and forth. At that smoking stage in my life, being able to handle such a rugged smoke made me feel powerful. Like I was a chick that stood out and that you couldn’t mess with. An important feeling for a fledgling 18 year old.

Of course I can read this now and understand how ridiculous and trashy that sounds. And I can also laugh at myself for ever thinking yellow teeth and a constant rattly cough was sexy. But there is logic behind it. I can’t take credit for coming up with it myself b/c I read it in this book I am reading (yes, the same one that also gave me the inspiration for my next post….this book is SO good!) It's called the Tipping Point, by Malcolm Gladwell. It tries to explain social epidemics and the behavior amongst social trends and such, ranging from the explosion of Hush Puppies in the 90’s to Paul Revere’s ride during the Revolutionary War to suicide and teenage smoking.

And so the logic begins…public campaigns have been giving a die-hard try to get teens to stay away from smokng, but their smoking has only increased. It is kind of like the same principle of if a parent vehemently forbids you to do something, you are going to do that something to an infinite exponent just out of spite. So of course there have been even more studies conducted on this phenomenon and when asked how many years smokers were subtracting from their life span due to their nasty habit, the averge guess was 9 years. The actual answer is 6. Smokers are so aware of the negative effects of their habit that they overestimate their chances of dying. This is not a huge factor smokers consider or even care about when they buy their next pack.

So obviously the anti-smoking campaigns that focuses on the health detriments are null and void. A waste of time and money even. So another round of studies asking 20-30 year old smokers to describe their first experiences with smoking in order to identify the real reason people pick up cigarettes, had a lot of correlation.

Everyone told stories of their grandmother or mother or high school friend or babysitter smoking. And they all used descriptions such as “ My mother had long-tapered fingers holding the cigarette with crinkly lips wearing rouge with such a devil may care attittde” or “My English Nanny one Summer never wore a bra and woud do handstands at the beach for all the boys to see and she smoked” or “My best guy friend in high school would roll a cigerrette on a Grateful Dead record” or “my grandmother’s purse always smelled of cinnamon gum, leather, lipstick and cheap Winstons.”

These responses and stories all seemed to show a few common themes. One was that smoking was associated with sophistication and the idea that all those that smoked were cool. They were cutting edge and didn’t care what anyone thought of them. And if you smoke publicly, you really can’t care what others think of you b/c you know that at least 55% of the population looks at you in disgust or as if you're ruining the essence that surrounds them.

Going even further with this study, these feelings of independence and mental care-freeness led to smokers having better sex lives, being more of a risk taker, lyng less (b/c when you light up, you're basically putting your worst card on the table for everyone to gander at) and always being an extrovert at a party.

I particurly love the the last story about the Grandmother’s purse because my Grandmother was an avid smoker. I distinctly remember walking into her bedroom and seeing a triangle of cigarette cartons waiting to be smoked, which started with 13 packs as its base and moving up to 1 pack at the point.

That’s 91 packs and probably close to 2,000 individual sticks, that probably only lasted my grandmother a week at best. I am not sure that it was despite the cigarettes or because of them, but my Grandmother was so glamourous and beautiful. Her hair was always done and she would wear elaborate outfits with jewelry and lipstick to match and she always had a diet coke in her hand and her cocker spaniel dog at her side. No one messed with her – least of all me. And true to real smoker form, she was always throwing sophisticated parties and she was always a risk taker and she always told the truth no matter how cutting it may have been to me or anyone else.

Those are all things I want to be. I want to be more extroverted and I want to be less risk averse and I want to keep things on a more even keel with honesty. I just want to be more real. So should I take up smoking, where at least EVERYONE does it over here?

Because I remember those are all things I used to feel on a really cold winter’s night when I was sitting outside looking at the stars, deep in conversation exhaling that vanilla flavored smoke.

While this account of social behavior was fascinating and made me fondly reflect on my own past, I am going to stay glamorous and risk-taking and honest without a stick in my hand. I partake in the occasional cigar, but I really hate the taste of smoke now and I hate how it sticks to my clothes and hair. And few things in life are as important as a beautiful smile, but it is interesting that something so understandably bad for you could produce such strong feelings of independence and I think that is something that really works for Europeans. I mean really, it’s something that works for everyone.

Full Circle

One of the best parts of traveling with your Mother is that she will take you on sophisticated trips where you stay in an actual hotel and have 5 star meals served to you. You also see things that may not have made it on the itinerary b/c Blind Booking didn't fly into the city you may have wanted it to.

So because of Mother love, I was able to see the American Cemetery in Normandy. We spent a week on a river cruise up the Seine and our big stop was Normandy. After all of the memorials I have seen in and around Germany regarding WWII, it brought everything to a close to be able to see the American perspective of it. We were able to see the cemetery that over 9,000 American Soldiers call home and we were able to walk on the Omaha Beach they stormed.

I have mentioned before that I since living in Europe I have become obsessed with WWII. I research it all the time and I am always searching for the same thing. I can read countless facts, many personal accounts and as much background history on it as I want. But what I really want is to know exactly how it feels to be a soldier going into battle or to know how it feels to have your people persecuted. Because that way maybe I could understand how a catastrophe like WWII could happen.

Part of the Omaha Beach, we stormed.

Garden of the Missing. The wall displays all of the names of the soldier's that were never found.

the ceiling of the chapel at the end of the cemetery. It represents America saying goodbye to all of her lost son's.

German bunker.

Just had to take this picture to show that even something beautiful could grow out of such ugliness.

Crater that a bomb left.

Sarah and I weren't sure if it's appropriate to smile or take funny pictures at such a serious place, but a photo without people smiling it is too depressing and so is just a cement hole.

The terrain that soldiers had to navigate as they fought the Germans during D-Day.

Like a candle in the wind!

In the last two weeks I have been in 4 different countries. I have lugged around one 60 pound suitcase and one 40 pound suitcase off of 11 trains and I have made my way from Germany to Paris to Amsteradam to Brussels and back to Germany and on Monday I leave for Italy. Not that it isn't amazing to tour Europe and see all the places I have seen, but I am really burned out. So burned out that I can barely be bothered to pick up my camera and snap a picture of something that I know we definitely don't have back home.

Maybe this sounds selfish or pathetic, but it's the truth, plain and simple. I am even kind of dreading Italy b/c I can't take being a tourist anymore. I can't take being the "stupid American" b/c I don't speak their language and I don't have the energy to figure out any more train stations or navigate myself anywhere. I should also mention that my hair is falling out in clumps the size of my fists b/c I am at a huge vitamin deficiency. Traveling makes it difficult to ensure that I get balanced meals on a regular basis. For example, now that I am back in Germany, in limbo, I have had 5 of the Belgian truffles and 2 cookies I picked up there a few days ago - that was breakfast and lunch.

If I knew I was permanently moving to Europe then I wouldn't feel this way. I wouldn't feel as though I am just floating in the abyss and my life would have a lot more purpose. I would have invested in products that were part of my rituals back home, such as vitamins or spices or a nail polish color that went beyond racy red. All of these trips that I have taken would be like vacation breaking up my redundant everyday schedule, but instead, I am on permanent vacation and as the saying goes..."there is such thing as too much of a good thing."

I miss the little things, like being able to go into a grocery store and understand exactly what I am buying and what the label says. Or my gym...I miss my work-out classes and being 20 pounds lighter than what I am right now (thanks to all the beer.) And as magical as it has been to not have ANY responsibility, I miss the sanity that having a job gives you. My brain is literally atrophying due to the lack of challenge living within a community gives you.

So the moral of this story is: sometimes it's ok not to challenge yourself by going without certain comforts from home. I am sure that if I brought my vitamin supply that is so neatly sitting on my bureau at home or legit American BBQ or Buffalo sauce or my favorite Red Sox sweatshirt I wouldn't be so restless. In fact I would probably stay in Europe forever!

You see the problem here...

Good-byes suck.

I am especially bad at good-byes because I am terrible at showing affection. Who are my "Modern Family" watchers? Any die-hard fan will remember the episode entitled "The Kiss" where Mitchell won't kiss his partner Cameron because his own upbringing and father's lack of ability to kiss him doesn't allow him to kiss his partner. When Cameron brings this point up to Mitchell, he points out that Mitchell has the grit to make pro-gay speeches in public, but what takes true courage is affection. (Ok this scene is a lot funnier then I am describing and I encourage you to become a fan of this show to see for yourself. I also encourage ABC to send me a check for a million dollars for all of this advertising.)

I grew up in a family where they said "I love you" as they were tucking me in and I was hugged a lot so I don't know where this aversion to endearment comes from. I don't even like PDA. I am that girl, if I am ever dating someone, you won't notice it at a party or restaurant. Sure, sure, a peck on the lips to say good-bye or a hand on the leg underneath the table is ok sometimes, but holding hands for an extended period of time or a pro-longed, passionate kiss is too hard for me to manage most of the time.

It's weird I know and I wish I could be a little looser about this whole PDA thing...but then I run the risk of becoming too loose and no one wants that;) Even my Mother had to wrestle a proper, non-ass-out hug from me before I left for Germany.

Anyway, the reason I bring this up is because my time in Aalen is winding down and coming to an end. The majority of my roommates have left and at this very moment I am alone in my apt. A few of my friends are still lingering around - thank God and a favorable roommate is coming back from a vacation with his wife so we can all make an attempt at putting our clique back together. But this part of the journey is really about to be over.

I have another month of traveling, which is why the good-byes don't feel real yet, but I can't believe I have had to say as many of them as I have so far. The problem with not settling down and hopping from place to place is you constantly have to learn to shut your emotions down. Realistically you can't keep the level of attachment you had with every individual you met. Life gets in the way and the environment in which your friendship was created probably isn't the environment to which you are returning. You have to learn to adjust and reset the expectations of every relationship you create. You also have to become comfortable with the fact that you probably won't see your friends that you became so close with for a long time or ever again.

Not to say that all this hopping around doesn't lead to new adventures and constantly meeting new people, because it does. And I probably won't stop hopping around for a while. Home is no longer really a physical aspect anymore to me. I love my house and I love my town, but in retrospect of the different living situations I have been in over the past 8 months, I could probably settle most any place as long as there is wifi and running water! But this tolerance still doesn't solve the fact that good-byes suck and how they are teaching me what kind of friendships are worth fighting for and which ones are worth doing the awkward dance of staying in touch through distance and busy lives that are moving on.