The following was written by my daughter the other day. I thought it was such a great piece of writing, I thought I'd treat you all to it!! GREAT job, Bek!!
Since sand was used for diluting the cement that all the buildings were made from,the mountains of sand were a cliche during the summer. It seemed like there was one dumped on each corner once every week or so. The day that I was stung by a scorpion, or a 'shayan' in Kazakh, is just as vivid in my mind now as it was then. I remember my big brother, Andrew, coming up to me and asking if I wanted to go outside and play in the sand pile, or 'khom'. I ran across the vomitous linoleum kitchen floor that always looked like a giant had used it for the disgusting taks of blowing his nose. I grabbed my cheap-o red and white Chinese-made 'topchkee' (summertime sandals), the kind that always broke in a month, and slipped them on my feet. We told our Kazakh housekeeper where we were going, and asked her to make sure the door locked behind us. Since petty thievery was such a troublesome issue, locked doors were the norm in every household.
We stepped out into our dingy, dank stairwell and started to run down the murderously crooked steps. The smells got more intense as we went down... down closer to the basement door and the sewage piping for the entire apartment building, neither of which were sealed at all. Rats, cats and other various forms of scummy life lived and died down there. Getting a whiff of decaying flesh was never appetizing whatsoever. We got out of the stairwell as fast as we could and stepped outside. Summer was in full swing, and it was a sizzling one hundred and ten degrees that hit us like a belly flop from off the high dive when we stepped outside- not the perfect eighty like at home. I remember how it felt as the thirsty air drank up whatever liquid was in our lungs and bodies, leaving us bony raisins in a desert. We marched around the apartment structure, ignoring the shockingly vile remarks the local kids shouted at us as we scurried past. Eager to start playing, we rounded the corner, hurrying as children do. We had this beautiful master plan to construct an impressive (at least it was impressive in our little minds) labyrinth of tunnels through the sand. They would be just big enough to push a matchbox through.
We never tired of digging around like moles in the massive mounds of sand. The two of us jumped into the sand dumped there the previous day, turning deaf ears to the annoying protests of the builders who would have to shovel it back into a pile when we were done. They despised it when kids like us came and played in their sand, spreading it out until it looked like dessert on a toddler's face. After about fifteen minutes of digging around and getting grubby, my tunnel was just about done. I reached towards the little tunnel entrance to dig out the last bit of sand that separated mine from Andrew's, but before my dusty hand reached the tunnel, I felt something sort of "stick it". "Oh brother", I thoguht, "Another nasty thorn in the sand." I reached down to pick it out and throw it somewhere out of my sight, but a thorny vine wasn't what I saw. What I did see made the blood drain out of my face; I saw the underside and tail of a scorpion exposed where my hand had brushed the sand.
It was already hurting, throbbing and turning red. I jumped up and told Andrew, and he told me to run and tell Dad as fast as I could. I turned and ran back to the apartment, and was in such a hurry I forgot my shoes. Trying to run and not hurt a scorpion sting at the same time is harder than trying to get a camel (which we have plenty of roaming wild on the steppe) through the eye of a needle. Step-ow-step-ow-step-ow, all the way back to the apartment. The reaction I got from my parents was essentially the same as a bomb squad's would have been to an emergency call. My dad ran for the medical bucket where the snake venom suction device was kept. By now, looking at the side of my thumb was like looking at a bad pimple though a microscope. It was so nasty and ugly it was enthralling. My dad put the cracked yellow venom sucker on the side of my thumb and got it sucking. The suction on the sting made it turn from red to putrid purple. After about fifteen eternal minutes, Dad took the yellow sucker off and put ice on it. I can remember sort of falling asleep; I must have been tired out by all the hovering around me Mom and Dad did. When you know it takes an ambulance up to two hours to get anywhere after receiving a call, the local medical care isn't much of an option when you're in the mood to live. It was truly a miracle of Grace that I survived that day!
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Sunday, January 2, 2011
The first, and most obvious, stop on our touring agenda was St. Sebald Church. We were supposed to have seen The Beautiful Fountain and St. Lawrence Church while walking from the train station, but those plans went down the toilet.
So, it was just The Water Guy and I- the non-puking pair- who would be first to venture out to the see the sights. And there were many: amazing architecture, cobblestone streets, and yarn. Don’t forget the yarn.
Our destination’s spires could be seen from the front door of our Moose Hotel,
so we made off in that direction; and walked for about 5 minutes. It was that close. Here’s what we saw just inside the massive wooden front doors. I think I misted over a bit; what an incredible welcome to the seeker of a place of solace.
I am a sucker for stained glass, and there was plenty of that, as well as a massive organ (I don’t mean like livers and spleens here), incredible arches, and a general atmosphere of peace and tranquility. A stark contrast to what it might have been like on Jan. 2, 1945, when chaos reigned as the church was nearly destroyed in an Allied bombing raid. In fact, while we were there, the church had a poster series display of the history of the rebuilding of this fantastic structure. I’ll let the pictures tell the story of just what a treat it was to get to visit this incredible piece of architecture, built sometime around these dates:
The organ pipes were especially impressive!!
This little private seating alcove made me highly curious- I felt like Alice standing there- just WHO sat in this caged area??
One thing I stood at for quite some time enjoying was this bronze piece decoated with hundreds of wee little angels each playing or representing something different:
There was no explanation of this interesting piece; we could only surmise that a visitor from Africa had come and left this as a gift?
And as a benediction, I’ll leave you with this one, I’m sure he’d wish you a Magical Day!
So, it was just The Water Guy and I- the non-puking pair- who would be first to venture out to the see the sights. And there were many: amazing architecture, cobblestone streets, and yarn. Don’t forget the yarn.
Our destination’s spires could be seen from the front door of our Moose Hotel,
so we made off in that direction; and walked for about 5 minutes. It was that close. Here’s what we saw just inside the massive wooden front doors. I think I misted over a bit; what an incredible welcome to the seeker of a place of solace.
I am a sucker for stained glass, and there was plenty of that, as well as a massive organ (I don’t mean like livers and spleens here), incredible arches, and a general atmosphere of peace and tranquility. A stark contrast to what it might have been like on Jan. 2, 1945, when chaos reigned as the church was nearly destroyed in an Allied bombing raid. In fact, while we were there, the church had a poster series display of the history of the rebuilding of this fantastic structure. I’ll let the pictures tell the story of just what a treat it was to get to visit this incredible piece of architecture, built sometime around these dates:
The organ pipes were especially impressive!!
This little private seating alcove made me highly curious- I felt like Alice standing there- just WHO sat in this caged area??
One thing I stood at for quite some time enjoying was this bronze piece decoated with hundreds of wee little angels each playing or representing something different:
There was no explanation of this interesting piece; we could only surmise that a visitor from Africa had come and left this as a gift?
And as a benediction, I’ll leave you with this one, I’m sure he’d wish you a Magical Day!
I guess I’ve left you all hanging long enough, and have found a few minutes to get on with this story; we last left off with two victims taking a Ride on the Ralphing Railrod. Other than wiping the bathroom’s entire supply of nifty plastic bags out, being embarrassed somewhat, and running to the train’s toilet to dispose of “things”, we had a really, really nice 2 and a half hour trip. The scenery was spectacular with vineyards, small villages with sweet little churches and steeples, and tidy gardens along the tracks. The potential problem with our tickets was NOT an issue whatsoever, which was a GREAT relief to me. If you’ll recall, in a gigantic doofus-moment, I made the ticket reservation in my maiden name which does NOT match the name on the credit card I used. Phew!
Arriving at the Nuremberg station, we had to make some hasty decisions- which really were no-brainers. Mickey and Macaroni were just FAR too ill to make the short 1 mile walk to our hotel, which was our original plan. We thought we might be able to take in some of the sights along the way, and get a feel for the area, but this was clearly not to be. With no other choice, we negotiated a taxi up to our hotel- the Hotel Elch- which really means “moose” in German. A moose like this one on the wall:
It was far cheaper than I thought it would be, and Mickey and Macaroni were kind enough to only leave one “souvenir” for our driver. Don’t worry, we had extra bags, and we took them with us, but I can’t imagine that he didn’t wonder what the heck was going on in his back seat. I did manage to get 3 photos of our first impressions of Nuremberg, none of which came out very good, but hey, there would be 2days to get some better ones:
The driver found it with no problems, and happily took our money- including the tip that we sure would have loved to hand back to him. Ah well, I guess that is how it is done… It was time to check in. It was very obvious right away that this was a family run, very low-key, casual sort of place, and we loved it right away, even though we had to wait a bit to be helped. One room was ready; the other was not, but at this point, we were just grateful to get a private toilet, trashcans, and any other receptacles to handle our misfortune. The kids especially appreciated the copious amounts of Kleenex, TP, and wet washcloths, as you can imagine. They fairly passed out on the white, fluffy beds, luxuriously beds draped with down duvets, and were asleep within seconds- literally. Their sound sleep was only interrupted to “take care of business”, and by now even that was becoming less frequent. HOORAY!
Wanna see our room?? Yeah, I thought so, check this out!
Beauteous, eh??
Having stashed the pukers, and one tired little (healthy) girl, it was time to take our first walk. I made The Water Guy promise that we wouldn’t be gone more than an hour, and with that we took off to see what we could see. Come along with me on a short walk from Hotel Elch up towards our first destination:
And here we arrive at our first major attraction:
Which we’ll pick up with next time…
Until then, have a magical day!!!
Arriving at the Nuremberg station, we had to make some hasty decisions- which really were no-brainers. Mickey and Macaroni were just FAR too ill to make the short 1 mile walk to our hotel, which was our original plan. We thought we might be able to take in some of the sights along the way, and get a feel for the area, but this was clearly not to be. With no other choice, we negotiated a taxi up to our hotel- the Hotel Elch- which really means “moose” in German. A moose like this one on the wall:
It was far cheaper than I thought it would be, and Mickey and Macaroni were kind enough to only leave one “souvenir” for our driver. Don’t worry, we had extra bags, and we took them with us, but I can’t imagine that he didn’t wonder what the heck was going on in his back seat. I did manage to get 3 photos of our first impressions of Nuremberg, none of which came out very good, but hey, there would be 2days to get some better ones:
The driver found it with no problems, and happily took our money- including the tip that we sure would have loved to hand back to him. Ah well, I guess that is how it is done… It was time to check in. It was very obvious right away that this was a family run, very low-key, casual sort of place, and we loved it right away, even though we had to wait a bit to be helped. One room was ready; the other was not, but at this point, we were just grateful to get a private toilet, trashcans, and any other receptacles to handle our misfortune. The kids especially appreciated the copious amounts of Kleenex, TP, and wet washcloths, as you can imagine. They fairly passed out on the white, fluffy beds, luxuriously beds draped with down duvets, and were asleep within seconds- literally. Their sound sleep was only interrupted to “take care of business”, and by now even that was becoming less frequent. HOORAY!
Wanna see our room?? Yeah, I thought so, check this out!
Beauteous, eh??
Having stashed the pukers, and one tired little (healthy) girl, it was time to take our first walk. I made The Water Guy promise that we wouldn’t be gone more than an hour, and with that we took off to see what we could see. Come along with me on a short walk from Hotel Elch up towards our first destination:
And here we arrive at our first major attraction:
Which we’ll pick up with next time…
Until then, have a magical day!!!
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