What is in a name? A Journey of Fear, Disgust, and Dementia

“Hey Grandma, do you know what my middle name is?”
“No, what is it?”
“It’s Joan!”
“It is? Really?”
“Yeah, Grandma, I’m named after you!”
“Get outta here! You are pulling my leg.”
“No, its true Grandma, and I just went for a four day hiking trip in the Alps, cause I have to live up to my namesake, now don’t I?”
“Well, I guess you do, don’t you.”

My name is Martha Joan. An old lady name, I know. In the West, we don’t put much weight in names–in any power that they might hold. Naming a child after someone is a sign of respect and little more. I am named after my grandma, Joan. I didn’t give much thought to my middle name until recently. Not until my grandma got dementia.

—

Growing up, I always wanted a soft grandma. A sweet, sit-on-her-lap, tell- you-stories, and give-you-candy kind of grandma. That is not what I got in Grandma Joan. She was all angles and sharp edges– in personality and body. My earliest memories are spending holidays in her big old Victorian house in Syracuse. All the aunts, uncles, cousins, and great-grandparents all piled into the house. The adults huddled around the fireplace telling stories while the old clock tick-tocked the time away above the mantel. The kids running up and down the stairs, exploring all the nooks and crannies until Grandma Joan would bark out in impatience, “Can you all just quiet the hell down?!”

At that point we would meekly head off to the den to settle down and watch TV surrounded by faded but cozy 70’s décor.

That was Grandma. Sharp and harsh. Even her laugh was coarse from decades of chain smoking.

When I was still quite young, Grandma Joan nearly died of a heart attack and had to have a triple-bypass. The story goes that she was laying on the operating table shouting at the medical staff, “You idiots better get your shit together or I’m going to die!”

Grandma Joan was a force to be reckoned with.

She never smoked again and, shortly thereafter, sold her comfortable house in Syracuse and traveled the world. Honduras, Japan, Italy, Germany, Ireland, Canada, and all over the US. She bought a house out in Montana, near Yellowstone National Park. She worked housekeeping at beautiful Lake Hotel in the park. In her free time, she hiked. She climbed mountains, snowshoed, and and swam in the hot springs. She volunteered at the local food pantry and everyone in town knew her. Every year for her birthday, she would go white water rafting.

What I realize now, is Grandma Joan is strong. And sometimes that strength looked harsh and boney and even a little scary. But beneath it all, was deep, deep strength. And it is still there.

—

The rumors had been going around for a while– Grandma is forgetting things. Grandma got lost. Grandma didn’t seem to know who I was. But we all pushed those rumors aside. It was Grandma Joan. She is so strong. So independent. How could that change?

It was early spring when my mom told me that she was canceling her plans to come visit me in Germany. Grandma was having a hard time and Mom bought tickets to fly out to Montana that week. When she got there, it was worse than any of us had imagined. Mom didn’t buy a return ticket. Grandma couldn’t be left alone.

—

I remember seeing friends or acquaintances post about their family members with dementia. I remember the visceral feeling in my stomach– fear? disgust? It sounds horrible, but it made me feel queasy. The idea of having to continue trying to have a relationship with someone who doesn’t know who you are. Who doesn’t remember what happened five minutes ago. How could it be worth it? I would briefly wonder how they could do it. And then I would quickly scroll past and put the thought out of my mind.

When I heard that word–dementia–I felt that same pit in my stomach. But I was far away. Grandma was far away. I didn’t need to look dementia in the face. I didn’t have to look her in the face. So I scrolled past it in my mind. Moved on to what was in front of me.

—

My mom stayed in Montana with Grandma as long as she could, taking care of her in her own home–which Grandma did not always love. “When are you going home? Can I drive you to the airport?”

“Oh, I’m staying a few more days, then I’ll be out of your hair.”

This continued for months.

Much of their time was beautiful though. In the beginning, they went for walks in the park. Then, just drives. Walks around town. Bingo nights. Volunteering at the food pantry. Spending time with friends. There were a lot of good times. But slowly, the disease took more and more. And Grandma slowed.

Eventually, the horrible decision of taking her away from her beloved home had to be made. Back to New York. No more car. No more house. No more independence.

By the time I was able to fly home for a visit, Grandma and Mom were settled back in NY. And the disease had stolen even more from Grandma. She was having trouble walking now. Mom was trying to convince her to use a walker. But she would push it away and say, “I don’t need that thing. I can do it myself, dammit!”

I was nervous to see her. What would I say? Would she know who I am? I knew she wouldn’t. She didn’t even know that my mom, the woman taking care of her all day, every day, was her own daughter.

—

She was sitting there, on the couch, the cat curled up next to her, just watching the TV.

“Hi, Grandma.”
“Oh, hi there. How are you?”
“I’m good Grandma, how are you?”
“Oh, I’m alright I guess.”
“Ok…that’s good.”

I felt so awkward. So unsure. She was so quiet. So small. I never realized how small she was before. Growing up, she had always seemed so strong and fierce. I never realized she was actually a tiny little woman.

—

I am sitting at the kitchen table when I hear some shuffling coming from the hallway–I look up to see Grandma, her pajamas hanging loosely from her tiny frame, bracing herself against the door frame.

“Where’s Margaret?”
“Oh, she just ran out for a few minutes, she’ll be right back.”
“Oh. Ok.”

She just stands there. And we look at each other in silence.

“Can I get you something? Are you hungry?”
“Well, I guess I could eat.”

She shrugs and shuffles to the table. I get her a muffin Mom baked fresh this morning. She starts to break it apart and nibble at the pieces.

“Here, kitty-kitty.” She says in a sweet little voice to the cat by her chair as she feeds him a few crumbs. I smile, noting her softness and vulnerability with animals that she most certainly doesn’t let show for humans.

I decide I should try to make conversation.

“Hey Grandma, did you know I live in Germany?”
“What? No, I didn’t. You like it over there?”
“I do, I love it.”
“Well, that’s good. It is good to get out. You gotta travel.”

There is a light on her face I hadn’t seen before. Mom walks in during our conversation, 20 or 30 minutes later, we are still chatting away about Europe.

“Grandma, have you ever been to Europe?”
“Oh, well, I think so…I’m not sure.”
“Well, you’ve traveled all over. Its hard to keep track!”

I tell her about my adventures. Hiking. Exploring. My plans to go for free grad school over there. She tells me that is a great idea. She is happy for me. I finally run out of things to tell her. She listens, but she can’t remember much to tell me, so it is largely a one-sided conversation. As I get quiet, the light fades and she gets up and shuffles back to the couch. Mom says, “That was so good. She hasn’t talked like that in ages. She really liked talking to you.” The pit in my stomach has melted a bit. I’m still scared, but a warmth has softened it. Makes it more bearable.

—

The years passed. One, two, three. Almost four years. And little by little, the disease eats away at everything she has left.

I come home again. She is in a hospital bed now. She rarely gets up. My husband and I hoist her up and put her in a wheelchair. We are going to take her to the Yellow Deli, a rustic local café–her favorite place.

We all know this is probably the last time. We are pushing it, as it is.

“Don’t drop me!” She scolds good-naturedly, as she clings to my husband’s arm.

“I won’t, Grandma.”

Later, she lays in bed and Mom and I sit nearby looking at old pictures. Grandma peers at us from the bed. I can see she is curious. I move closer and hold the pictures so she can see. She is confused. She thinks her mother is herself, or her brother is her father. But still, she likes to look at them. They stir something, deep inside her. Something that doesn’t need words or names.

I notice a gorgeous old rocking chair in the corner. “Hey Mom, where did you get that rocking chair?”

“That belonged to my grandmother O’Mara.” The small, gruff voice states confidently from the bed before my mom can answer. I look at her in surprise. Some things, she has buried so deep in her heart, the disease can never take them away.

I’ve learned a lot about this disease in the last few years. It takes so much. And watching it strip my fierce grandma down to a frail and helpless old woman is heart wrenching. But in spite of that, so much is still there. So much that she holds onto in spite of the disease. Her sharp, sarcastic sense of humor, her fierce sense of independence, her strong will, and her tender heart beneath that prickly exterior.

—

Its evening, I’m in the kitchen with my sisters. We are talking and laughing. Getting a bit louder.

“Will you all just shut up so I can hear the damn TV??”

That gravelly, sharp voice snapping at us, it used to scare me. Now I smile and we giggle and talk in hushed tones.

She is so sweet and calm most of the time now. When that gruffness comes out, I can’t help but relish in it. That is the strong, independent woman who took hold of her life and lived it HER way. That is the Grandma Joan I am named after.

Does a name have power? I don’t know. But I know that I want to be like her. And every time I climb a mountain, I am going to remember Grandma Joan and know that nothing would make her happier or light up her face like knowing I am walking in her footsteps.

—

“I love you, Grandma.” I lean over her hospital bed and wrap her tiny boney shoulders in my arms.
“I love you, too.” The gruff little woman says.
“Goodbye, Grandma.”
“Goodbye.”

Thinking of Visiting Munich? 9 Reasons You Should go to Nuremberg Instead

If you are planning a trip to Germany, then chances are you are considering visiting Munich. If you Google “top cities to visit in Germany”, Munich will definitely be on the list and most likely in the top five recommended cities. Nearby Nuremberg, meanwhile, rarely makes the top of the list.

What most people are looking for in a trip to Munich is CULTURE and TRADITION. Bavaria, the state that Munich and Nuremberg are both located in, is known for its thriving, old-world culture, medieval towns, and romantic castles. As the largest city in Bavaria, Munich tends to draw the most attention while Nuremberg, less than two hours to the north by car (or about an hour by high-speed train), is largely overlooked.

Here are just a few of the many reasons why you should skip your trip to Munich and head to Nuremberg instead.

1. It has a Medieval Castle

A portion of the Kaiserburg as viewed from within the dry moat.

Ok, Munich does have the Nymphenburg Palace, which was built in 1675 (and is beautiful). But Nuremberg has a true medieval CASTLE! It was built and expanded over the course of many centuries, but the earliest parts date back to 1138. The Kaiserburg (Imperial Castle) was most notably the seat of the Holy Roman Empire. The castle holds a commanding location on top of a hill on the northernmost edge of the old city (Altstadt). This lends the city unique dimension, as you can see the castle looming over the city from many vantage points. I highly recommend visiting the castle overlook for a gorgeous view out over the cityscape.

Admission to the castle interior is inexpensive and well worth the cost but, for the budget-conscious traveler, the castle courtyards, overlook, and glorious castle gardens are all free and open to the public.

Did I mention you can STAY in the castle? The city Youth Hostel is located in the portion of the castle pictured above.

2. It is a Walled City

Looking out from the city wall on the Neutor gate.

Nuremberg’s city wall runs almost continuously around the 5 kilometer circumference of the old city. A paved pathway and parks run through the dry moat beside the wall, making for a lovely stroll with gorgeous views, especially behind the Kaiserburg. There are several places where you can walk around on top of the walls, including several restaurants with seating or biergartens built onto them. My favorite way to explore the walls and ramparts (and feel like Cersei Lannister while doing so) is through the castle gardens. You can stroll around the manicured gardens on top of castle ramparts and then follow the gardens along the wall for about a kilometer.

3. More Meandering Cobblestoned Streets and Charming Half-timbered Houses

Weissgerbergasse (the street with the city’s most beautiful half-timbers)

 The old city of Munich is quite limited; the architectural style is predominantly Baroque– streets like this one above are nowhere to be found. Meanwhile, Nuremberg sports far more beautiful half-timber houses and numerous winding cobblestoned streets.  You can visit the Albrecht Durer House (the home of Germany’s most famous Renaissance artist) to explore a medieval half-timber house and gain a glimpse of what life looked like during the time period.

4. More Pedestrian Streets and Better Walkability

The old city of Nuremberg is largely car-free and no major roads cut through the center–making it extremely pedestrian friendly. The city has a population of over 500,000, but within the walled old city you could easily think you were in a small town. You can wander the streets staring up at all the sights and rarely have to worry about passing cars.

Pretty much everything you might want to see is within the city walls, making walking the ideal form of transportation.

5. More Beer and Better Bratwurst

Enjoying a delicious Dunkel beer at a riverside biergarten.

Okay, all of Germany has a lot of beer–and most of it is excellent. But Franconia, the region of northern Bavaria that Nuremberg is located in, has the highest density of microbreweries in the world. If you happen to be in the city for a beer festival, then you are in for an extra special treat. But even if you are not, high-quality beer is in abundance.

And what is the perfect pairing for a good beer? Bratwurst! The city’s famous Nuremberger sausages, while admittedly smaller than Munich’s boiled weisswurst, are widely recognized as Germany’s tastiest bratwurst. These little numbers, made exclusively with grade-A meats and herbs, are boiled in vats of red wine and onions and smoked over beechwood. Snag a Drei-im-weckla (three sausages in a fresh baked roll) to-go to enjoy while exploring the city, or sit down at a restaurant for a whole plate served with sauerkraut and potato salad.

6. TWO Gorgeous Gothic Churches

St. Lorenz, the largest church in the city. Photo cred Devan Johnson Photography

Munich has some stunning churches, but none that can compare with Nuremberg’s dual gothic architectural gems: St. Lorenz and St. Sebald. St. Sebald, the older of the two, dates back to 1225.

The interiors of both of these churches will instantly transport you back to the middle ages. Dimly lit, with iron-studded doors, faded frescos, and lots of medieval art, the atmosphere is laden with the ghosts of ages past.

7. The Largest Christmas Market

The Christmas Market in the Hauptmarkt (central market square).

The Christmas Market is one of the few things that Nuremberg gets fair recognition for, as it is the largest in Germany. If you happen to be visiting Germany in December, then a visit to Nuremberg’s Christmas Market is a must. It is as if all of the beauty and joy of Christmas is made manifest in one place. A magical mixture of Bavarian nuts, bratwurst smoke, and the warm spices of Glühwein (mulled wine) fill the air. The streets glow with Christmas lights and people shuffle up and down the rows of stalls looking at glimmering, handmade ornaments while sipping hot beverages from keepsake Nuremberg mugs.

8. Medieval Dungeons and Beer Cellars Under the City

Underneath this medieval city is a labyrinth of tunnels, cellars, and dungeons. You can do a tour of both the beer cellars (ending with a beer tasting at one of the cities oldest breweries) and of the medieval dungeons.

9.  Better Accessibility to Day-Trips

 

Regensburg on the Danube.

If you want a home base to explore the many cultural gems of Bavaria, then Nuremberg is the place to be located. Most of the region’s best day trips are as close or closer to Nuremberg than they are to Munich. Set up camp in Nuremberg and utilize Germany’s amazing rail service to access smaller cities like Würzburg, Regensburg, Bamberg, Rothenburg-ob-der-Tauber, Dinkelsbühl, and more!
I hope that by now I have convinced you to visit Nuremberg. To be fair, Munich is a nice city and worth a short visit if you have the time. But if you are looking for an authentic German cultural experience steeped in history, then Nuremberg is where you want to be.

15 Things About Germans that Will Strike Americans as Strange

When you visit another country there are things that you expect to feel different. Maybe the clothing, the architecture, the language, etc. But after having lived in Germany for about 9 months, these aren’t the things that continue to take me off-guard and manage to continually make me feel like I have two left feet. Except for the occasional pair of lederhosen, people pretty much dress the same, the houses have four walls and a roof, and even the language, while different, sounds remarkably familiar. But there are many other things, often very small that continue to feel very odd. Here are just a few of them.

[My experience is primarily within Bavaria, particularly Franconia; things vary a great deal throughout the rest of the country.]

1. The Post Office Owns Everything

In the US we go to the post office to…send mail–and that’s about it, right? Not so in Germany! The Post here has its own bank–Post Bank. It has its own bus line–Postbus. It offers horse drawn carriage rides at Christmas time. Recently we got a new prepaid phone plan and discovered that our plan needs to be reloaded manually–by the post office.

 

2. Doors With Handles…That You Push

This one still gets me every time. You go to a business, walk up to a door with a handle and pull…and nothing happens. And then you realize the door says “drucken” or “push”. Why?? It is odd to have business doors open inward to begin with; why add a handle to the confusion?

3. The Most Un-Doggy Dogs

In Germany, dogs tend to be extremely well-behaved. So well-behaved, in fact, that most of them walk themselves. Walking through the city, it is a common sight to see a dog completely leashless trotting ahead of its person. In the parks, the dogs romp free–and occasionally circle back to their owners. Many times I’ve tried to hold a hand out to get the dog’s attention for a quick pat, and the dog blatantly ignores me and keeps going. Not once have I been approached or jumped on by a dog here. Another common sight is a dog patiently waiting outside a business for its person–sometimes tied up, sometimes not. 

4. Dogs in Restaurants

You don’t see this all the time, but to an American it can be quite shocking. You are sitting in a nice cafe or restaurant, and, all of a sudden, you notice a furry friend under a neighboring table! But, once again, dogs tend to be strangely un-doggy and incredibly well-behaved here, so they simply lay there quietly without disrupting the meal.

5. Grocery Stores are Madness

When you go to a grocery store in the US, there is normally a long chute at the checkout line where your groceries accumulate so you have plenty of time and space to pack them away. Often the cashier packs them for you, or another employee assists you with the bagging.

Not so in Germany! When its your turn at the cash register you had better be ready to throw all those groceries in bags or shovel them back in your cart (unbagged) as fast as the cashier pushes them through, AND be ready with payment when he or she is finished. No nice chute exists here. You are lucky if there is a foot of counter space. And if you don’t have all those groceries away before the transaction is finished? The cashier will usually start pushing the next customer’s groceries through right on top of yours!

My husband and I usually grocery shop together just so we can appropriately handle this stressful experience. When we are the next customers in line we brace ourselves as if for a race; “Are you ready? You get the money, I’ll bag, okay?”

6.  Toilets

Toilets in Europe are generally a little confusing. In the US every toilet is more or less the same. In Europe there might be a handle to flush, or a button. Or there might be a button on the wall, or TWO BUTTONS, and, occasionally, there is no toilet seat. But the most perturbing thing of all is the German poop-shelf toilet.

As you can see, where there should be a basin of water there is instead a shelf. An above-water shelf. I won’t go into too much detail, but I’m sure you can imagine the complications a toilet like this might pose. I’ll just give you three words for the sake of illustration: ODOR, RESIDUE, LODGED.

In every public bathroom, in every stall, there is a toilet brush. And each person is expected to use that toilet brush (on a public toilet!) because, with a design like this, residue is inevitable. 

7. Sitting Outside in the Winter

This is one of the odd things about Germany that I really love. Walking through a city on a cold fall, or even winter day, you are likely to see Germans sitting outside drinking a cappuccino while wrapped in a blanket. As soon as the weather starts to get just a little bit cold, fleece blankets and sometimes sheepskins appear on every chair outside of restaurants. It is definitely a little odd to see people wrapped up in blankets while at a public restaurant, but also wonderful! 

8. Everyone is Always Eating a Pretzel

This is actually pretty much just relegated to Bavaria, but in Bavaria everyone is obsessed with pretzels. And rightly so–they are amazing. But they seem completely unaware of the oddness of their behavior. You see children snacking on them like candy, businessmen eating them on the way to work; pretzels are served alongside rolls at restaurants for dinner, in train stations you will find them in the form of sandwiches, and the list goes on. Probably the oddest pretzel sighting we’ve witnessed was at the opera during intermission. The opera in Nuremberg is a very formal affair–more formal than most weddings. During the intermission everyone gathers in gorgeous room with gilded decor and massive chandeliers, sipping champagne…and munching on big soft pretzels alongside their bubbly. 

Their love of pretzels goes to such lengths that they even apparently find it to be an appropriate form of advertisement for bedding.

9. Beer is Cheaper than Water

When you go to a German restaurant you are not automatically served a glass of water–you pay for it. Germans are not a big fan of tap water (in some restaurants, even if you request it, you will not be given it) and vastly prefer bottled water. In restaurants a bottle of water can easily cost 3-4 euros. Meanwhile, a beer usually ranges from 2.50-4 euros. It is hard to bring yourself to buy that water when you could get a beer instead for the same price or lower…

10. No Open Container Laws

On that same note, you can drink alcohol pretty much whenever and wherever you want. You will see people walking down the street with a bottle of beer, on the subway, settling in for a long bus or train ride, in parks–pretty much anywhere you can imagine. On holidays, such as New Year, everyone takes to the streets with bottles of champagne and plastic flutes to drink and celebrate. 

11. Butter on Sandwiches

I was going hiking with some Germans recently and they prepared some sandwiches to bring along. I was confused to see them buttering bread, but decided that they must be making grilled cheese sandwiches. Mid-hike we stopped and they brought out ham and cheese sandwiches. When I took a bite I was confused and then realized they had put butter on them! When I asked about it they replied, “Yes, it is butter. Why, what would you put on a sandwich?” When I said “mayo” they were horrified and said, “typical American.” 

12. They Don’t Put Mayo on Sandwiches, but They DO Put it on Fries

So instead of using mayo for its intended purpose, they put it on their french fries! (this is actually done in a number of European countries).

13. They Knock

My husband is attending graduate school in Germany. After his first lecture, the professor wrapped things up and he prepared to grab his stuff and head out. But to his complete surprise, all of the students began knocking on their desks. He looked around in confusion as all of the straight-faced German students knocked on their desks, then abruptly stopped and proceeded to pack up and leave. This occurred in the next class and the next. 

14. Waiting at Crosswalks

Germans always wait till the crosswalk light turns green before crossing. It doesn’t matter if there is not a car in sight, or if the oncoming traffic has already stopped for their red light–the Germans wait. I cannot express how painful this is–to be in a rush and get to a crosswalk where it is clearly safe to cross, but everyone continues to stand there motionless. It is very difficult to bring yourself to cross with all of those dutifully law-abiding Germans patiently waiting! (My husband got yelled at once by a fellow pedestrian for crossing before the light changed; “the light is still red, Mensch!”).

15. They Intentionally Deliver Your Mail to Your Neighbors

When we first arrived in Germany I was very confused when one evening I heard my doorbell ring and opened the door to a man in plain clothes standing at my door with a package. He handed me the package and walked away. I shrugged and didn’t think much of it. I received a number of other packages, sometimes from an official post man, and sometimes from apparently random people.

One day I opened my mailbox to find a slip indicating I had received a package. My German was not good enough to understand everything on the slip, but I gathered that I needed to go to the post office to pick it up. So I did.

I handed the slip over the counter and requested my packett. They looked at the slip and informed me they did not have it, but that my nachbar had it. “Who the heck is my nachbar??”I asked. The postal worker looked perplexed, turned to a co-worker, and then said tentatively to me, “neighbor?”

Now, this wasn’t an unusual occurrence where a friendly neighbor who knew me and the postman stepped up and said, “Oh, she isn’t home? I’ll take it for her.” No, this is an official practice commonly utilized, and you are officially notified of it by your postal slip.

From Germany to Vermont: The Pain of Calling Too Many Places Home

My hands are four inches deep in rich, freshly tilled earth. I dig a small hole and nestle a lettuce seedling into it, pressing the soil around the tender roots. The sun shines bright and the smell of warm soil fills the air. I raise my eyes to rolling mountains against a vivid blue sky. I view all of this as if observing someone else’s life. The disjointedness of my existence makes me feel a bit dizzy, even nauseous at times. As if I had just stepped off of a rapidly spinning ride. The beauty all around me pushes futilely against a deep aching emptiness inside me.

The past few weeks have been a tumultuous blur. When my visa application was rejected we had only a few weeks to leave Germany, to pack up our lives there, fly back to the US, visit our families, find jobs, housing, a new life all over again. And here we are, in the Green Mountains of Vermont, on an organic hippie commune farm. Living in a tree house. I spend my days working in the greenhouse, planting in the fields, or baking artisan bread in a wood burning oven. It is all like a dream–one we would have wished for not long ago.

Now I feel numb and hollow.

---

As a kid I always loved spending time with friends–parties, sleepovers, road trips. But there would always reach a point where the fun would still be going on around me, while I would become withdrawn from it, wearied of the excitement, and all I would wish for was to go home, curl up in my own bed, sleep in late and wake up to the sounds of my mom bustling around the kitchen.

I feel that now. That weariness. That ache. A homesickness. The pain is familiar, but now it is different. Why? Because when I feel that ache, the desire is undefined. I’m homesick, but for what?

I have always been someone who loves slowly, but deeply. Once that love is established, it is there to stay. My first love was a little crooked house on top of a hill in the foothills of the Catskills. For 19 years that was my only home. My family, my friends, my world was that place. When I ached for home, the direction of that longing was clear.

Now, when I long for home I see that little house on a hill, I see familiar faces of my childhood, the deeply forged friendships of college, winding cobblestone streets, castles, the Alps, a warm blue ocean crashing on a sunny beach, and over it all the never ending throbbing of the bells–from cathedrals, ancient and grand.

But this home does not exist as a whole. It is fragmented and scattered across, states, countries, and continents. And my heart aches and throbs like the ringing of the bells, but it does not know which direction to turn, to head home, to rest.

Can you love too many people? Too many places? Can the heart endure it?

The party and the excitement, new people and adventures go on around me, but I am weary and I long to rest.

I wonder if I have loved too much.

Will I ever be content to call one place home? Or am I doomed to forever seek what does not exist?

Living in a Disposable World: The Consequences of Chronic Consumption

This post is not van living related, but I hope the same audience will be interested in this important topic as well.

For my New Year’s resolution this year I decided to attempt to avoid the use of all disposable items. I gave myself a few ground rules–I could use recyclable disposable items only if I personally saw that they were recycled, I could use disposable items if they would be disposed of regardless (ex. straws and napkins automatically provided at restaurants), packaging wouldn’t count (nearly impossible to avoid), and finally I would not inconvenience others (ex. not refusing disposable dishes, etc. while a guest). I won’t pretend that I have stuck to this objective perfectly, but it has been extremely eye-opening. The primary thing I have taken away from this experiment was that due to the above (I think pretty reasonable ground rules) I still found myself using a large amount of disposables. Why? Because our societal approach to the world is a disposable one and without making myself a non-functional part of that society it is next to impossible to remove these items from my life. This problem is bigger than individual irresponsibility–our basic infrastructure has a fundamentally problematic approach to consumption and until we alter that there is little hope for change on a grand scale. We need to see a societal shift in how we view and approach the world and its resources. This experiment has been extremely discouraging because I quickly discovered that disposable items/materials are so pervasive and so integral to our society that they are in all practicality impossible to avoid. I want to walk you through an average american day highlighting the types of disposable items that permeate our everyday life.

You wake up in the morning and blow your stuffy nose with a tissue, then head to the bathroom and use some toilet paper. You pick up your toothbrush to brush your teeth, and then use a paper cup to rinse with mouth wash. You clean your ears with a q-tip, you shave your face/legs with a plastic razor. Head downstairs and make some breakfast. You pack your kids’ lunches with plastic baggies, napkins, plastic utensils, and organic juice boxes. You wipe up a spill with a paper towel. You stop at a coffee shop where you get coffee in a paper cup, and a bottle of water, use some sugar packets stirred in with stir stick, grab some napkins to go.

Lunch time you go to Chipotle where you have a burrito wrapped in paper, use plastic utensils, a plastic cup, and napkins. At work you use pens to write on sticky notes. You buy a bottle of soda and some cookies in plastic packaging from a vending machine for a snack. You toss the empty bottle in a recycling bin that you fail to notice is filled with trash (no way its going to a recycling facility).

You stop at the grocery store and everything you buy is packaged. At home again you wash your dishes with a sponge, dust with paper towels, clean your floors with a disposable wipe. You make a lasagna in a one-time-use aluminum pan. You set the table with napkins. After dinner you change your baby’s diaper and use baby wipes. Getting ready for bed you remove  makeup removing wipes.

Do you see how pervasive this is? So many things that we think of as necessities due to either convenience or hygiene. Unfortunately, due to the affluence we experience in the US, we treat most of our possessions as disposable (even though they don’t technically fall under that label). Electronics, clothes, old toys, lawn accessories, and organic waste are all things which we might not think of as disposable, but they end up in landfills rather sooner than later. Most people in the US claim to care about the environment and want to see changes happen. We jump on a chance to buy notebooks and pencils made from “recycled materials.” We dutifully (maybe) put our bottles and cans in recycling bins which may or may not actually get recycled and feel like the sins of our consumerism are absolved. But we don’t think for a second about the countless disposable cups, plates, napkins, straws, razors, tissues, etc, that we are continually throwing away. According to the US Environmental Protection Agency the average individual produces 4.38 pounds of waste per day. Only a little over a quarter (1.51 lbs) of that gets recycled or composted. That is a lot of waste. That means that the average American contributes around one ton of trash per year to landfills or 164 million tons of trash per year as a nation. That is staggering.

We need to begin rethinking our approach to our consumption of resources and how we can do it in a responsible manner that reduces harm to our planet and especially the less fortunate of the world (who are the most affected by our irresponsibility).Part of this is awareness. Awareness of the quantity  of waste we produce and of the consequences of the waste.

Landfills are one of the most obvious of our problems, though some continue to deny the seriousness of the issue. These vast expanses of waste are pushed off on low income communities (including exporting unwanted garbage to 3rd world countries) who can’t afford to fight them. Numerous studies have shown the negative affects of living near landfills due to leaching (which is often hard to detect due to the frequent location of landfills next to bodies of water which disperse the toxic pollutants). Organic materials (we only compost 50% or less of our organic waste) either decomposes anaerobically (due to a lack of oxygen) and releases methane gas (a worse greenhouse gas than carbon dioxide) or simply does not fully decompose. Regardless of whether you think there is enough space in the world for all of these massive landfills, the fact of the matter is that we are taking massive quantities of valuable natural resources, whether those be organic materials, metals, or petroleum based products and cut them off from the natural cycle of life (and if they are re-entering they are doing so in harmful, toxic ways).

But we have recycling, right? And that means that as long as we recycle we aren’t doing any of this harm. Recycling is certainly better than not recycling–both economically and environmentally it is more prudent than sending to landfills. However, that doesn’t mean it eliminates the use of valuable resources and energy or the production of pollutants. Every time we recycle we lose in the process–versus if we made long lasting products and put up with minor inconveniences such as carrying around our own water bottles. And that is is if our recyclables actually get recycled. I dutifully recycled in college only to find that most of the time the recyclables went to the dumpster because of the garbage mixed in. I know the recycling at my current job almost always goes in the dumpster because people are too careless to sort out their trash. Often our would-be recyclables not only don’t end up recycled, but end up as litter on the side of the road, floating in the ocean, or in the stomachs of birds.

Two major things need to happen in order for us to make real changes in this dangerous and rapidly escalating cycle we have entered into. The first is a societal change of perspective. We need to cease being consumers of the world and become part of it again. We need to give and take rather than just devour. We need to plan 15 extra minutes into our day so we can sit down in our local coffee shop and drink our coffee instead of taking it to go (or, if we must be on the run, bring our own travel cup). We should sit down to real dinners on real plates and enjoy real meals instead of getting take-out or a hurried meal on paper plates. We ought to buy quality clothes that we love and wear them till they are worn thin–and then upcycle them into something new, rather than buying something new every other week and tossing the old. We need to have a consciousness of our interactions with the world (which we desperately lack). I am certain we would enjoy life more if we did these things. Secondly, we need regulational changes. We need the government to acknowledge the harmful system we have created and begin to institute penalties for environmentally harmful practices and rewards for conscientious ones. We need to encourage businesses and corporations on a larger scale and at a higher level to take responsibility and find alternatives (such as biodegradable and compostable disposables) to current practices.

I wish that my carrying around a water bottle and a set of utensils all of them time were enough to help fix this problem, but if this experience of avoiding disposables has shown me one thing it is that it is not. I, and all the rest of the our society, need to change our fundamental approach to the world and that is going to take a lot more than I can offer on my own.

The Van Life 2.0–Beach Edition 2.0

It’s been a while, but we have finally returned to the van life. Tyler got a job working at the Cape Hatteras National Seashore in the Outer Banks, North Carolina. We were set to depart from PA at the end of March and Tyler was to begin his job the Monday after Easter. Due to some beauracratic  complications with paperwork we found ourselves stranded in the outer banks, with Tyler unable to begin work (and my start date 2 weeks away), and unable to move onto our site. We spent a few days parking on side streets and hanging out in parks before making the realization that nothing was tying us down here and the obvious question was–why not travel? So we did.

We planned a two week tour of the South–Savannah, Chattanooga, Nashville, Asheville, and Durham. And so we embarked. Savannah was our first, and favorite stop. The most enchanting, old-world city we have encountered in the US. This small city is nestled against a river frequented by tour boats and massive barges. The unique, weathered, waterfront buildings house numerous restaurants serving Cajun influenced foods, and street musicians serenade diners while they enjoy their meals. The interior of the city is has parks and squares every few blocks which are filled with huge trees draped in Spanish moss. You can spend hours wandering the picturesque streets lined with gorgeous colonial houses and stopping in historic churches. It is a magical city.

Forsynthe Park

Something that made our stay even more magical was our accommodations. Yes, we stayed in our van, but while trying to find a low-key, inconspicuous place to park for the night we came across a nearly empty convention center parking lot right next to a huge, beautiful resort. It seemed like as good a spot as any, so we parked and headed out to scout for drinking water and a bathroom. The convention center was all locked up, but a back entrance to the resort provided a public bathroom and water fountains. We decided to explore the waterfront a little and discovered…a pool and hot tub surrounded by palm trees and overlooking the river and the city beyond! We couldn’t resist and changed into our swim suits for an evening swim. And did so again for the next two evenings and then headed across the parking lot to stay in our van.

Staying in the hotel parking lot worked out so well for us that for the remainder of the trip (when not staying with friends) we scouted out hotels that did not have any parking regulation signs and spent comfortable nights there with easy access to water and bathroom facilities. Discretion and confidence are ever the keys to success.

After three days in Savannah we headed north to Chattanooga, TN. The location of this tiny city was lovely–nestled in the foothills of the Smokey Mountains with a river running through. We spent a quiet day there before moving on to Nashville, TN where we met up with friends and hit up a kareoke bar. After a beautiful drive through the Smokies we spent two days in Asheville, NC. Another city tucked away in the mountains Asheville is a small but growing city filled with wonderful restaurants and art galleries. A short drive took us up into the Blue Ridge Mountains for an amazing hike through those misty mountain-tops.

A short stop at Duke University in Durham, NC (which is gorgeous, by the way) and 1,800 miles later we were headed back to the Outer Banks to finally settle  down at our jobs for the summer. Our location on the ocean front of North Carolina is clearly very different from our setup in Colorado last summer, so we have had to make a number of updates to our van which I look forward to sharing with you in our next post!

Creative Cooking in a Van, on a Budget

This is my kitchen.

 

Saving money was an obvious priority for us in our choice to switch to this life style and we were not about to start cutting corners when it came to food–even though this was what we had to work with.

My kitchen provisions consisted of this little sink and pantry area shown in the above picture, a small cooler for perishables (which meant we didn’t often have many perishables), and a two burner propane camp stove (we actually cooked over the fire 90% of the time).  My cooking wares/dishes consisted of one saucepan and one cast iron skillet, some wooden spoons and a spatula, a few knives and a plastic cutting board, a single cup french press, silverware, plates, and mugs and cups for four. That was it.  No non-stick pans, no coffee pot, not assortment of kitchen gadgets. Everything that we cooked had to be made in just two pans and served on one plate or in a mug (for soup).

It could have been easy to fall into a habit of going out to eat or ordering take-out or buying ready-made food to avoid having to cook with our limited means. But we did not. We instead had a great time embracing the challenge and being creative and we honestly probably ate better than most people do for a fraction of the cost (~$40 per week on groceries).

Our two burner gas stove.

How did we cut our costs?

1. Shop the sales. When we shop we look primarily for things that are on  sale. We would base our meals for the week around what was on sale when we went shopping.

2. Buy cheap, substantial staples. We always had plenty of rice, canned beans, corn meal, barley, whole grain pasta, potatoes, canned tomatoes, etc, on hand. Foods that are inexpensive, versatile and non-perishable are essential for eating cheap (but also healthy).

3. Free food. Dumpster diving was the primary source for this category, but we also were happy to be known as the couple who would eat anyone’s leftover/unwanted food.

Dumpster diving, however, was by far the most productive of our methods of saving money on food. The amount of quality, free food we were able to obtain was remarkable. Many wonder about the safety of eating food out of dumpster, but it is really pretty simple to determine whether food was safe to consume (most was packaged or in separate boxes or had only just expired that day).

If you have doubts, check out this food

All of this food is just from one dumpster run. And this was all we could take, but there was much, much more.

Food from dumpsters gave us a significant boost in the amount and diversity of produce we were able to have in our diet in addition to some dairy products, snack foods, and bread products.

Meals we made:

 This sandwich was composed of bread from a dumpster, fresh tomatoes and sauteed onions, and a slice of marinated and grilled puffball mushroom which we had scavenged ourselves from the woods. The large white object in the background is the puffball.

These mushrooms were also scavenged from the woods and went into the dish below. It was an egg and mushroom mixture on a bed of pan fried potatoes, topped with seasoned chili beans. 

Pancakes were a favorite meal for us on mornings when we neither of us had to work. We would wake up late and then cook up a stack of hot pancakes with large cups of coffee on the side before heading out for a day in the park.

Blueberry pancakes (blueberries from the dumpster), topped with pancake syrup and butter.

 

 

Another morning favorite was scones and muffins (day old saved from the garbage) with coffee or tea.

After a long day of work or hiking we would often want something extra hearty and so a meal like this beef and veggie dish over barley was the perfect solution.

This dish had a can of beef chunks (canned meat helped reduce worry over food going bad),  and onions, tomatoes, and zucchini, all from a dumpster.The final example of our fine cuisine from our van life is a rice and bean dish. We ate some variation of this dish very frequently as it was extremely cheap, composed of almost entirely non-perishables, and wonderfully delicious and filling. This particular dish was one of our best. It started with a bed of white rice, then a layer of sauteed onions, peppers, and tomatoes all from a dumpster. This was then topped with chili seasoned pinto beans, garnished with avocado slices and chopped cilantro, also both from a dumpster, and served with a side of warm corn tortillas.

So, if you thought that life in a van would mean eating canned soup and tuna salad sandwiches everyday–you were wrong. We enjoyed every meal we made to its fullest and never once regretted our choice to limit ourselves to two pans and a fire. There is nothing more satisfying then sitting down outside, just as the sun is setting,to a hearty meal of rice and beans cooked over a fire, outside of your very own, loan-free, mortgage-free, portable house.

This will probably be the last post on van living for a while as we recently  moved back from CO at the end of Tyler’s seasonal position at Rocky Mountain National Park and are temporarily staying with family until our next opportunity for a van adventure (in a warmer climate) arises.

 

 

 

The Van Life: Slow and Simple Mornings

 

I wake to the bright morning sun streaming through the curtains and roll sleepily over to steal some of Tyler’s warmth–the van is still cool with the chill of a mountain night at the end of summer.  We stay in our bed for a while longer, but before long the vibrant blue sky  and sweet morning breeze become irresistible and we come fully awake and begin to slowly stir.

I step outside onto the gravelly earth in my bare feet and stretch up my arms in solidarity with the tall pines all around me.  The world around me is all warm and cold, shadow and sun. I am alive and I feel it.

I wash up at the spigot on our site and the cold water washes away the last of my sleep. While Tyler goes through his (rather longer) morning routine I get to work. The little gas stove lights with a rush and soon the water begins to rumble. In the meantime I pull our small wooden table and chairs into a patch of warm sunshine.  A jar for pouring water and two for glasses.  A pile of day-old scones and muffins I managed to save from waste at work adorn the center of the table. When Tyler joins me again I pour two mugs of steaming black coffee and we sit down to a better morning feast than any king could ask for.

The sunshine warms our skin, the coffee our bellies, and the beauty of the world–our souls. The world is still quiet, but full of noise. The summer insects are brought back to life after the cold night as the air slowly regains its heat; a mule deer steps lightly through the brush as it skirts our camp, and a squirrel overhead gnaws on a pine cone.  Our own voices break into that silent noise and it is no longer silent.

We chatter about the beauty of this day, of our love for everything surrounding us and our place in it. We speak of our desires for this day and they are the same. But we do not rush to the other pleasures awaiting us. We linger in this beautiful moment in time and soak in the sun and our coffee and are made better for it.

Go West, Young Man

We left Lancaster, PA on May 16th after having breakfast one last time at the Green Dragon. We drove pretty much straight through until we arrived in Chicago, IL. There we lingered for several days to visit my older sister, Rachel, and her family as well as a close friend, Annie Bolger, who lives in Chicago. Chicago is an awesome city and we had a great time exploring everything that it has to offer. One of the highlights was probably going to Eataly with Annie, and her husband Jake. We had frequented Eataly when we studied abroad in Torino, Italy and so having dinner there again brought back so many memories. It is a wonderful store and restaurant and I would highly recommend it to anyone who has any appreciation for Italian food or culture (or wine!).

Getting some appetizers with Annie and Jake at Eataly.

Eventually, however, we had to say our goodbyes and continue our westward journey. It didn’t take long after leaving Chicago for it to feel like we had really hit the West. Everything suddenly seemed even flatter and drier than before. And there was nothing to be seen anywhere for hundreds of miles except for farms and the occasional highway rest stop.

We drove all day until the sun had set completely and our eyes began to flutter. We had driven through what remained of Illinois, all of Iowa, and had maybe a quarter of Nebraska. It had been a long day. So, when the next rest stop appeared we pulled off and settled down for the night. That is the really nice thing about travelling in your house…no tents, no hotels or motels needed. We used the facilities to get ready for bed, let Julie take a walk and then settled down in on our wonderful memory foam mattress. Just as we were drifting off to sleep a massive thunder and lightening storm began to roll in. It wasn’t raining much, but the whole of that big open sky was lit up time and again by great flashes of lightening streaking across it. If I hadn’t been so tired I would have gone outside to watch, but instead I laid safe and warm in my bed and tried to keep one eye open to peer out into the darkness to watch the storm. It was marvelous, but it is amazing how exhausting sitting in a car all day can be and before long I had drifted off into a solid sleep.

We slept long and soundly and didn’t wake up until around 9am (impressive seeing as we were sleeping in a parking lot!). We then brushed our teeth and headed out again, but stopped at the first diner we could to treat ourselves to an amazing breakfast of omelets, bacon, and pancakes. We knew we would reach Estes Park before dark and our spirits were quite high.

Back in the Vamp again, and determined to stop as little as possible until we arrived. Nebraska wasn’t much better than Iowa, at least not until the very end. Just the same old flat, dry, landscape scattered with farms of old corn stalks. But near the end as we were almost to the border of Colorado, the landscape took a pleasant turn. It changed to soft, rolling hills, covered with long grass, and dotted with cows.

Occasionally though, we would pass a factory farm and my resolution to try to avoid all except ethically raised meat was strenghthend. I tried to take pictures, but none came out at all and we were in such a hurry to get past the stench that I wasn’t about to stop to get a good one. But the images are well imprinted upon my mind. The rolling hills of grass stopping abruptly and suddenly turning into muddy pens holding hundreds upon hundreds of cows. While the cows were in the “open” not indoors in concrete pens, I don’t know that this was really any better. There was hardly a foot or more between the cows lounging on the ground in their own filth. And even if you tried to tell yourself that maybe it wasn’t so bad, that horrible smell assured you that you were wrong. I have been to many farms and passed through plenty of farm country and never smelled a smell like that before. It wasn’t just overpowering, it was sickly and horrible. That part of the trip made me very sad.

But soon we would pass by those nasty stretches of land and back out into the open pastures where the cows laid in the sun in the grass and looked happy and healthy. This was probably my favorite part of the drive.

Julie seemed to like the prairie, too.

Finally, we saw a sign signalling that we were entering Colorado! But the prairie continued…And now we were only about 45 min from Estes (which we knew to be thoroughly buried in the mountains) but there was nothing more than a “hillock” in sight. We were going through towns now and we finally rounded a building and caught our first glimpse of the Rockies peaking through the clouds on the horizon. They rose suddenly and steeply from the plains. And we continued straight for them. We reached the base of them and began the long steep climb up through the narrow gorge that would supposedly take us to Estes. As soon as we entered the gorge we were in absolute awe. The mountains rose on either side and the views seemed to only get better with every twist and turn.

After a long, long upward climb, we crested over a hill and suddenly broke out into the open and were looking down on a little valley and a lake, and a little town nestled into that valley. And at the far side of the valley rose up a massive range of snow capped peaks with the sun just setting behind them. And then we saw a sign “Welcome to Estes Park” and knew we had reached our home for the summer.