I still feel sick, and I know I should be resting, but I can't condone spending an extra two nights in Klagenfurt and seeing nothing but the festival grounds. To Atlas Obscura I go!
There are only a few entries for this town, but they look interesting.
Minimundus.
Over a hundred models of important buildings from all over the world. Sounds kinda weird. I'm down.
I get up in the morning and walk nearly an hour along the canal to get to this strange, mini amusement park. It's pretty dope, honestly.
It's an interesting feeling to look at small replicas of places I have been before. Stephansdom in Vienna, Fisherman's Bastion in Budapest, and so on. To be able to see the full thing, peering down, instead of only a section, peering up. Something about the tiny versions makes the real ones seem even more grand.
Klagenfurt...I like it here. When I first separated from Anna and Fabio, I found myself self-conscious and a bit uncomfortable. By the end of my month in Italy, I was comfortable enough with the language. Obviously far from fluent, but I could get around, ask basic questions, order food...the typical things we do in every day life. Then I spent a month in Croatia, where it seemed that everyone spoke English...even the people who said "no" at first, when asked.
But now I'm in Austria, and my Italian friends have just left, and I'm realizing that no one here is possibly going to mistake me for Austrian as I was mistaken for Croatian. The German feels clumsy and butchered in my mouth, and I can't seem to figure out the pronunciation. No one here seems to speak English, though they are kind and patient as we both try, but I once again feel like the asshole tourist I try not to be. Which is a bit disheartening after not feeling this way for months. Looks like I've got some words to learn!
There is an air of something here, I can't quite put my finger on...playfulness, I suppose, is the best word.
I walk along the canal for an hour, and suddenly there is construction in front of me. Big trucks pouring asphalt, and grubby men smoothing it flat in the hot sun. I squeeze myself against the banister, and place my feet carefully within the small space not being worked on. I can see a clear path, though tight, past this construction, so I figure it's okay to push through as long as I stay out of the way.
Suddenly there is an older man with a wheelbarrow, dripping cement, in my path, and coming towards me steadily. I look up to try and read his face, expecting him to shake his head or tell me to turn around, but he holds his eyes steady and continues straight at me.
I can't really tell if I'm being told I can't pass, but I flatten my body tighter against the railing, hoping to slip past him.
He moves in the same direction.
I look back up, and he's laughing, making quick motions this way and that, as two people might do on a street when they are walking in a collision course with one another.
All this happens in a few seconds, and it finally clicks that he's messing with me. For some reason this totally throws me off guard and I laugh. He smiles and moves out of my way. I guess I just assumed people doing manual labor in the hot sun wouldn't have the energy to tease a passerby. But laughing does make the task go faster.
The other workers smile at this interaction and say good morning to me.
In the evening, another person jumps out of my way on the sidewalk dramatically, laughing playfully and making a show of it, and I have to wonder, is it normal here to interact with strangers in this way? Or is it just a coincidence? I have to hope for the former.
There is a bakery directly across the street from my hostel and I visit it frequently in my short time. There is no kitchen where I am staying, so this convenient and tasty place becomes breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
My first morning I go in and there is an elderly, somewhat plump woman, with kind eyes behind the counter. She looks exactly like what you would expect a baker to look like, and it becomes clear pretty quickly that we can't communicate with each other. Still, she smiles with amusement as I stare, bright-eyed, at all the goodies, and point to one after another to be bagged.
"Anything else?" She asks, laughing (I have to assume that's what she said, because it was in German).
I use one of the very few words I know and, laughing, exclaim, "Alles!" (Everything!)
The next morning I go in again to grab a snack before heading out to the train station. The same woman is working and she smiles immediately and welcomes me back. This time I point to just one thing. She bags it and waits expectantly after yesterday, but I just laugh and shake my head. No need to be gluttonous every day.
She grabs another bag off the counter and goes down to the end of the display, putting something in it.
For a second I wonder if she misunderstood, but I stay quiet. I'll take it anyway, there is always need for more food. But she rings me up for just one thing, and puts the second bag on top. "For you," she says in German, and smiles at me.
Again, I am amazed by the ability of the smallest action to make a persons day. And grateful for this omen of good fortune as I set out to my next location.
The train ride from Klagenfurt to Salzburg is so beautiful it nearly brings me to tears at one point. Hats off to you, Austria.
The trains in Austria are luxurious, but not as kind to the budget-conscious traveler as those in Italy. I wonder how locals afford to commute. Maybe they make more, or maybe they simply have a secret I don't.
But something else I notice, which makes my heart happy, is people properly say hello and goodbye at the train station. No dropping your friends and family off at the front entrance and disappearing. I notice people at almost every stop smiling and peering in the windows until their loved ones have found a seat and waved to them. One man actually runs along side the train until it gains too much speed. I feel I'm witnessing a scene from a movie.
When I ask Imanuel if I should wait outside the station for Hanna, as I have done all throughout Italy, and the majority of Europe, he says, "no, no, she'll be waiting for you on the platform."
Seeing this type of chivalry so often is such a short time, I have to imagine it's a cultural thing. I like it.
Hanna picks me up from the station, and I breath relief. Two travel days back to back is not my preferred method, but since it meant I slept in a bed instead of curled up on a train seat, I think it was the right choice.
In the car we talk about all the guests who will be arriving beforehand, and I begin to feel a bit like the party-crasher. An intruder. Everyone coming is a relation of some kind. Cousins, parents, grandparents, brothers, sisters...I don't hear a single name under the title, simply, of "friend".
Oh, man...am I intruding? I feel the unease creep up, but I have to remind myself that I was invited here months ago. They didn't have to tell me about the wedding, it was their choice.
Have I actually explained who Hanna and Imanuel are to me? I don't think I have. I guess that would be helpful.
Four years ago we (my mom, sister, and I) met this lovely couple at an accommodation in Bali where we were all staying. We hit it off over a few days, and when it was time for the family to move on, they asked to join us heading to the next village. We traveled together a few more days. None of us have seen each other in person since, but there is something about meeting people when you're abroad that connects you faster than your typical meeting would.
When I decided I was coming back to Europe, I reached out to them, aware they lived in Germany, saying I'd love to see them while I'm around. They invited me to their wedding. Six months later, here I am!
I stand behind Hanna on the steps, waiting for her mom to open the door for us, feeling a bit shy.
The door opens.
"Maia!"
A friendly-faced woman appears with striking white hair. "Welcome to my castle!" She exclaims, laughing, and pulls me into a big hug.
"Oh, Maia, hallo!"
I am taken completely by surprise by such a warm welcome, but I feel myself beaming, impossible to resist this woman's presence.
Who does she think I am? I wonder briefly. Has anyone told her I'm not actually one of the important guests? She doesn't need to fret over me?
Before I know it I've got coffee and cake and they've shown me my room for the next few days. "We thought you needed the best option since you're staying longer. Other people are just one or two nights. They can suffer."
They laugh at this, but I feel almost overwhelmed by their kindness. "I'm not important," I want to tell them. "You don't have to give me a good room. I'm not family." But I remind myself that this is the type of self-deprecating, negative attitude that caused me so much heartache in the past, and that I want to move away from. If they think I deserve a good place to sleep, who am I to deny their decision? Besides, I am overcome by gratitude at their generosity and the complete sense of inclusion that I am extended throughout my stay.
It's obvious that the whole family is just genuinely good people.
We have a barbecue on the first night of my stay, and more family arrives, including Imanuel's grandfather and his wife. When I discover they are from Tel Aviv, I ask them some questions and tell them I've been thinking of visiting.
"Get our number from Imanuel. If you come, call us, we can help you around. We have a big flat too, you can probably stay."
Hanna leans over to me and whispers, "This is great. By Saturday, we can have your next three months planned. People are coming from all over the world to the wedding." She grins at me.
And she's not joking. When we do a quick tally, we realize at least nine nations will be represented at the ceremony.
By the end of the evening, I've been offered couches in England and Munich as well. Maybe Hanna was right...maybe I can plan my next three months by the wedding on Saturday.
By the time I'm getting ready for bed, I don't feel like such an intruder anymore, and I think it takes truly special people to make everyone feel so included. Thanks, you guys.
The next few days are filled with outings to the lake, wedding preparations, deliveries, the arrival of more family members, meals together, laughter, and many cups of coffee. The house grows more lively by the day, and it seems always possible to find a smiling face.
In the middle of writing about how kind Molly, Hanna's mother, is, I hear her call my name from the living room. I get up and poke my head out.
"Ya?" I smile.
"Do you want to..." She points at herself, makes the hand sign for walking, and then does a bit of a throw that looks like bowling to me. I honestly don't know what she's asked, but I know it involves going somewhere with her. 75% of our communication is charades.
"Ah. Right now?" I ask, thinking back to my computer, sitting on the desk, cursor blinking where I'd left off. It's been hard to find time to write, and this may be my only opportunity for another few days.
"Ya. Now."
I hesitate only a moment before my brain chastises me. What are you waiting for? Why are you hesitating? Not only are you staying in this woman's house and it would be rude to stay locked away, but it's a beautiful evening. Go on a walk with her!
"Ya, okay! Let me get my shoes."
She grabs a bottle of sparkling water and a bottle of wine before we leave and now I find myself a little confused. But perhaps we will sit in the hills somewhere and drink to the sunset. This is, after all, what the 15 of us did last night, so it wouldn't be strange.
We begin walking and Molly says, "I think she speaks a bit of English, is good." And now I find myself really unsure of what we're doing.
Is she going to meet someone? I wonder, and the stab of intruding hits me again briefly.
But the feeling is for naught.
We wind around the side of an old farm house and knock on a worn wooden gate. We're greeting by smiling faces and introductions (and some explanation of who the hell I am), and it quickly becomes clear what I've gotten myself into.
I've stumbled into the weekly boule match of the neighborhood.
Okay, let's do it!
I've never played before, but they explain the rules and Molly and I give the opposing team a run for their money.
"My second language was Spanish," one of the players explains to me. "So when I think in another language it it Spanish. I have a very hard time speaking English."
"Well you're doing great," I smile, and it's true. I don't want to admit to the slightest amount of Spanish and confuse things further by adding a third language.
But I notice that he mumbles to himself in Spanish before speaking to me in English, and I finally relent.
"Entiendo un poco de espanol, pero no hablo mucho."
His face lights up like Christmas, "Ah! Bueno! Es mucho mas facil para mi!"
(I understand a little Spanish, but I don't speak much)
(Ah, good! It's much easier for me!)
And this is how I end up having an entire conversation in Spanish with a German, while drinking wine and playing boule in a small village.
I love traveling.
The next morning when I see everyone again and they ask what I did last night while they were in town, there are many looks of surprise and giggles when I tell them Molly and I went out. They know the weekly game is for the older people of the village, many of them the age of my grandparents. But despite this, or maybe because of it, I truly had fun. And though I can't speak to Hanna's parents, her dad seemed to soften to me considerably after I came to play. I think I may have earned some points with them for going. Hooray!
Imanuel's side of the family arrives, and I give them some space to catch up. When I finally make my way into the kitchen, his stepmother's eyes go wide with surprise.
"Hello. Who are you?" She asks immediately.
We all talk a bit before dispersing to prepare dinner, and when I come back through later she snatches me up. "Maia, come tell me about yourself."
Uh-oh. There's something in her tone which warns me I'm to be questioned, but it was bound to be done by someone eventually.
"So how do you know them?"
"We met in Indonesia a few years ago."
"You must have had quite a connection to end up here, then."
"Oh, yeah, the timing just worked out really nicely I think."
"No," she cuts me off. 'They didn't need to invite you to their wedding just because you were in the area. They could have said to come for a weekend or something. They are very selective with who they want around. Don't shrug it off so lightly."
I'm not sure what you say to a declaration like this. Thank you, perhaps?
As the wedding draws nearer, the family finally starts asking me to help. I'm relieved. I finally feel I'm contributing something. Hanna's dad starts making jokes about me being their au pair. Helping everyone with something.
I really haven't done much, but I like that they ask me to help. Can you decorate the wedding shelf? Can you paint my nails? They are little things, but I like the sense of inclusion. It makes me feel like they are comfortable with me in the house now. No longer a guest to be served, but a friend to help out. I much prefer the latter.
The wedding day is finally here!
The house is buzzing with excitement and last minute preparations, and still more family is arriving by the time we're ready to eat. We share a lively breakfast before disappearing into different rooms to get ready.
I put on full makeup for the first time in months, and shake the wrinkles out of my only dress. I hope it will be acceptable attire for a wedding. Though there is nothing to be done about my grubby sneakers. Just gonna pretend that's a fashion choice.
Finally it's time for the ceremony, and it's beautiful. Lively and upbeat. The entire event is multilingual, as the families are decently divided between English and German, and the sense of patience and inclusion touches me more than I expected.
After the official ceremony is over, and dinner is coming to an end, there is a game show style game introduced, but it's only in German. I settle in along with the rest of the English people and expect to be completely lost for the next 30 minutes. But the woman sitting next to me begins translating everything for me without being asked, and I see other German's approaching the English tables and asking if they would like a translator.
Everyone keeps telling me how common it is to have multi and cross cultural relationships here, and I know it's true. With so many countries so close, it's bound to happen. But for me, coming from such a big country, with such closed borders, it's not very common, and the openness, inclusion, and patience that the friends and families show to each other makes me want to cry.
Tears of joy, of course.
I want to thank Hanna and Imanuel for inviting me to join them for this joyous celebration of their lives and love, and I want to thank everyone else for accepting me into their tribe without much question.
This week I met some of the most generous and accepting people I have met so far, got to participate in a truly lovely family, and see an exceptionally beautiful relationship take the next step.
Thank you for this experience!
There are only a few entries for this town, but they look interesting.
Minimundus.
Over a hundred models of important buildings from all over the world. Sounds kinda weird. I'm down.
I get up in the morning and walk nearly an hour along the canal to get to this strange, mini amusement park. It's pretty dope, honestly.
It's an interesting feeling to look at small replicas of places I have been before. Stephansdom in Vienna, Fisherman's Bastion in Budapest, and so on. To be able to see the full thing, peering down, instead of only a section, peering up. Something about the tiny versions makes the real ones seem even more grand.
 |
| Stephansdom, Vienna |
 |
| Fisherman's Bastion, Budapest |
 |
| Texas, represent! "Remember the Alamo!" |
Klagenfurt...I like it here. When I first separated from Anna and Fabio, I found myself self-conscious and a bit uncomfortable. By the end of my month in Italy, I was comfortable enough with the language. Obviously far from fluent, but I could get around, ask basic questions, order food...the typical things we do in every day life. Then I spent a month in Croatia, where it seemed that everyone spoke English...even the people who said "no" at first, when asked.
But now I'm in Austria, and my Italian friends have just left, and I'm realizing that no one here is possibly going to mistake me for Austrian as I was mistaken for Croatian. The German feels clumsy and butchered in my mouth, and I can't seem to figure out the pronunciation. No one here seems to speak English, though they are kind and patient as we both try, but I once again feel like the asshole tourist I try not to be. Which is a bit disheartening after not feeling this way for months. Looks like I've got some words to learn!
There is an air of something here, I can't quite put my finger on...playfulness, I suppose, is the best word.
I walk along the canal for an hour, and suddenly there is construction in front of me. Big trucks pouring asphalt, and grubby men smoothing it flat in the hot sun. I squeeze myself against the banister, and place my feet carefully within the small space not being worked on. I can see a clear path, though tight, past this construction, so I figure it's okay to push through as long as I stay out of the way.
Suddenly there is an older man with a wheelbarrow, dripping cement, in my path, and coming towards me steadily. I look up to try and read his face, expecting him to shake his head or tell me to turn around, but he holds his eyes steady and continues straight at me.
I can't really tell if I'm being told I can't pass, but I flatten my body tighter against the railing, hoping to slip past him.
He moves in the same direction.
I look back up, and he's laughing, making quick motions this way and that, as two people might do on a street when they are walking in a collision course with one another.
All this happens in a few seconds, and it finally clicks that he's messing with me. For some reason this totally throws me off guard and I laugh. He smiles and moves out of my way. I guess I just assumed people doing manual labor in the hot sun wouldn't have the energy to tease a passerby. But laughing does make the task go faster.
The other workers smile at this interaction and say good morning to me.
In the evening, another person jumps out of my way on the sidewalk dramatically, laughing playfully and making a show of it, and I have to wonder, is it normal here to interact with strangers in this way? Or is it just a coincidence? I have to hope for the former.
There is a bakery directly across the street from my hostel and I visit it frequently in my short time. There is no kitchen where I am staying, so this convenient and tasty place becomes breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
My first morning I go in and there is an elderly, somewhat plump woman, with kind eyes behind the counter. She looks exactly like what you would expect a baker to look like, and it becomes clear pretty quickly that we can't communicate with each other. Still, she smiles with amusement as I stare, bright-eyed, at all the goodies, and point to one after another to be bagged.
"Anything else?" She asks, laughing (I have to assume that's what she said, because it was in German).
I use one of the very few words I know and, laughing, exclaim, "Alles!" (Everything!)
The next morning I go in again to grab a snack before heading out to the train station. The same woman is working and she smiles immediately and welcomes me back. This time I point to just one thing. She bags it and waits expectantly after yesterday, but I just laugh and shake my head. No need to be gluttonous every day.
She grabs another bag off the counter and goes down to the end of the display, putting something in it.
For a second I wonder if she misunderstood, but I stay quiet. I'll take it anyway, there is always need for more food. But she rings me up for just one thing, and puts the second bag on top. "For you," she says in German, and smiles at me.
Again, I am amazed by the ability of the smallest action to make a persons day. And grateful for this omen of good fortune as I set out to my next location.
 |
| In the main square. This dragon is the mascot of Klagenfurt. I love it. |
The train ride from Klagenfurt to Salzburg is so beautiful it nearly brings me to tears at one point. Hats off to you, Austria.
The trains in Austria are luxurious, but not as kind to the budget-conscious traveler as those in Italy. I wonder how locals afford to commute. Maybe they make more, or maybe they simply have a secret I don't.
But something else I notice, which makes my heart happy, is people properly say hello and goodbye at the train station. No dropping your friends and family off at the front entrance and disappearing. I notice people at almost every stop smiling and peering in the windows until their loved ones have found a seat and waved to them. One man actually runs along side the train until it gains too much speed. I feel I'm witnessing a scene from a movie.
When I ask Imanuel if I should wait outside the station for Hanna, as I have done all throughout Italy, and the majority of Europe, he says, "no, no, she'll be waiting for you on the platform."
Seeing this type of chivalry so often is such a short time, I have to imagine it's a cultural thing. I like it.
Hanna picks me up from the station, and I breath relief. Two travel days back to back is not my preferred method, but since it meant I slept in a bed instead of curled up on a train seat, I think it was the right choice.
In the car we talk about all the guests who will be arriving beforehand, and I begin to feel a bit like the party-crasher. An intruder. Everyone coming is a relation of some kind. Cousins, parents, grandparents, brothers, sisters...I don't hear a single name under the title, simply, of "friend".
Oh, man...am I intruding? I feel the unease creep up, but I have to remind myself that I was invited here months ago. They didn't have to tell me about the wedding, it was their choice.
Have I actually explained who Hanna and Imanuel are to me? I don't think I have. I guess that would be helpful.
Four years ago we (my mom, sister, and I) met this lovely couple at an accommodation in Bali where we were all staying. We hit it off over a few days, and when it was time for the family to move on, they asked to join us heading to the next village. We traveled together a few more days. None of us have seen each other in person since, but there is something about meeting people when you're abroad that connects you faster than your typical meeting would.
When I decided I was coming back to Europe, I reached out to them, aware they lived in Germany, saying I'd love to see them while I'm around. They invited me to their wedding. Six months later, here I am!
I stand behind Hanna on the steps, waiting for her mom to open the door for us, feeling a bit shy.
The door opens.
"Maia!"
A friendly-faced woman appears with striking white hair. "Welcome to my castle!" She exclaims, laughing, and pulls me into a big hug.
"Oh, Maia, hallo!"
I am taken completely by surprise by such a warm welcome, but I feel myself beaming, impossible to resist this woman's presence.
Who does she think I am? I wonder briefly. Has anyone told her I'm not actually one of the important guests? She doesn't need to fret over me?
Before I know it I've got coffee and cake and they've shown me my room for the next few days. "We thought you needed the best option since you're staying longer. Other people are just one or two nights. They can suffer."
They laugh at this, but I feel almost overwhelmed by their kindness. "I'm not important," I want to tell them. "You don't have to give me a good room. I'm not family." But I remind myself that this is the type of self-deprecating, negative attitude that caused me so much heartache in the past, and that I want to move away from. If they think I deserve a good place to sleep, who am I to deny their decision? Besides, I am overcome by gratitude at their generosity and the complete sense of inclusion that I am extended throughout my stay.
It's obvious that the whole family is just genuinely good people.
We have a barbecue on the first night of my stay, and more family arrives, including Imanuel's grandfather and his wife. When I discover they are from Tel Aviv, I ask them some questions and tell them I've been thinking of visiting.
"Get our number from Imanuel. If you come, call us, we can help you around. We have a big flat too, you can probably stay."
Hanna leans over to me and whispers, "This is great. By Saturday, we can have your next three months planned. People are coming from all over the world to the wedding." She grins at me.
And she's not joking. When we do a quick tally, we realize at least nine nations will be represented at the ceremony.
By the end of the evening, I've been offered couches in England and Munich as well. Maybe Hanna was right...maybe I can plan my next three months by the wedding on Saturday.
By the time I'm getting ready for bed, I don't feel like such an intruder anymore, and I think it takes truly special people to make everyone feel so included. Thanks, you guys.
The next few days are filled with outings to the lake, wedding preparations, deliveries, the arrival of more family members, meals together, laughter, and many cups of coffee. The house grows more lively by the day, and it seems always possible to find a smiling face.
 |
| They're going to love me for this one ;) |
In the middle of writing about how kind Molly, Hanna's mother, is, I hear her call my name from the living room. I get up and poke my head out.
"Ya?" I smile.
"Do you want to..." She points at herself, makes the hand sign for walking, and then does a bit of a throw that looks like bowling to me. I honestly don't know what she's asked, but I know it involves going somewhere with her. 75% of our communication is charades.
"Ah. Right now?" I ask, thinking back to my computer, sitting on the desk, cursor blinking where I'd left off. It's been hard to find time to write, and this may be my only opportunity for another few days.
"Ya. Now."
I hesitate only a moment before my brain chastises me. What are you waiting for? Why are you hesitating? Not only are you staying in this woman's house and it would be rude to stay locked away, but it's a beautiful evening. Go on a walk with her!
"Ya, okay! Let me get my shoes."
She grabs a bottle of sparkling water and a bottle of wine before we leave and now I find myself a little confused. But perhaps we will sit in the hills somewhere and drink to the sunset. This is, after all, what the 15 of us did last night, so it wouldn't be strange.
We begin walking and Molly says, "I think she speaks a bit of English, is good." And now I find myself really unsure of what we're doing.
Is she going to meet someone? I wonder, and the stab of intruding hits me again briefly.
But the feeling is for naught.
We wind around the side of an old farm house and knock on a worn wooden gate. We're greeting by smiling faces and introductions (and some explanation of who the hell I am), and it quickly becomes clear what I've gotten myself into.
I've stumbled into the weekly boule match of the neighborhood.
Okay, let's do it!
I've never played before, but they explain the rules and Molly and I give the opposing team a run for their money.
"My second language was Spanish," one of the players explains to me. "So when I think in another language it it Spanish. I have a very hard time speaking English."
"Well you're doing great," I smile, and it's true. I don't want to admit to the slightest amount of Spanish and confuse things further by adding a third language.
But I notice that he mumbles to himself in Spanish before speaking to me in English, and I finally relent.
"Entiendo un poco de espanol, pero no hablo mucho."
His face lights up like Christmas, "Ah! Bueno! Es mucho mas facil para mi!"
(I understand a little Spanish, but I don't speak much)
(Ah, good! It's much easier for me!)
And this is how I end up having an entire conversation in Spanish with a German, while drinking wine and playing boule in a small village.
I love traveling.
The next morning when I see everyone again and they ask what I did last night while they were in town, there are many looks of surprise and giggles when I tell them Molly and I went out. They know the weekly game is for the older people of the village, many of them the age of my grandparents. But despite this, or maybe because of it, I truly had fun. And though I can't speak to Hanna's parents, her dad seemed to soften to me considerably after I came to play. I think I may have earned some points with them for going. Hooray!
Imanuel's side of the family arrives, and I give them some space to catch up. When I finally make my way into the kitchen, his stepmother's eyes go wide with surprise.
"Hello. Who are you?" She asks immediately.
We all talk a bit before dispersing to prepare dinner, and when I come back through later she snatches me up. "Maia, come tell me about yourself."
Uh-oh. There's something in her tone which warns me I'm to be questioned, but it was bound to be done by someone eventually.
"So how do you know them?"
"We met in Indonesia a few years ago."
"You must have had quite a connection to end up here, then."
"Oh, yeah, the timing just worked out really nicely I think."
"No," she cuts me off. 'They didn't need to invite you to their wedding just because you were in the area. They could have said to come for a weekend or something. They are very selective with who they want around. Don't shrug it off so lightly."
I'm not sure what you say to a declaration like this. Thank you, perhaps?
 |
| Woods around the wedding venue |
As the wedding draws nearer, the family finally starts asking me to help. I'm relieved. I finally feel I'm contributing something. Hanna's dad starts making jokes about me being their au pair. Helping everyone with something.
I really haven't done much, but I like that they ask me to help. Can you decorate the wedding shelf? Can you paint my nails? They are little things, but I like the sense of inclusion. It makes me feel like they are comfortable with me in the house now. No longer a guest to be served, but a friend to help out. I much prefer the latter.
 |
| Heading home from the lake |
The wedding day is finally here!
The house is buzzing with excitement and last minute preparations, and still more family is arriving by the time we're ready to eat. We share a lively breakfast before disappearing into different rooms to get ready.
I put on full makeup for the first time in months, and shake the wrinkles out of my only dress. I hope it will be acceptable attire for a wedding. Though there is nothing to be done about my grubby sneakers. Just gonna pretend that's a fashion choice.
Finally it's time for the ceremony, and it's beautiful. Lively and upbeat. The entire event is multilingual, as the families are decently divided between English and German, and the sense of patience and inclusion touches me more than I expected.
After the official ceremony is over, and dinner is coming to an end, there is a game show style game introduced, but it's only in German. I settle in along with the rest of the English people and expect to be completely lost for the next 30 minutes. But the woman sitting next to me begins translating everything for me without being asked, and I see other German's approaching the English tables and asking if they would like a translator.
Everyone keeps telling me how common it is to have multi and cross cultural relationships here, and I know it's true. With so many countries so close, it's bound to happen. But for me, coming from such a big country, with such closed borders, it's not very common, and the openness, inclusion, and patience that the friends and families show to each other makes me want to cry.
Tears of joy, of course.
 |
| 💜💜💜 |
I want to thank Hanna and Imanuel for inviting me to join them for this joyous celebration of their lives and love, and I want to thank everyone else for accepting me into their tribe without much question.
This week I met some of the most generous and accepting people I have met so far, got to participate in a truly lovely family, and see an exceptionally beautiful relationship take the next step.
Thank you for this experience!
Oh my gosh, I LOVE it! I read this whole post with a huge smile on my face! Thanks for sharing your travels with us!
ReplyDelete~XOXO~
Yay! That's great, I''m so glad you're enjoying it. Thanks for following along with me! ^_^
DeleteLove <3
Wow! I loved the little buildings! Go Texas! And the cathedral! Once again a stellar post!
ReplyDeleteThat one picture in the forest looked like it was covering a hidden door... maybe the doorway to the hidden realm of dwarves?
Thank you for sharing!😎
XOXO sunshine
The tower in the forest reminded me of Rapunzel when I found it. Really cool.
DeleteI'm glad you like the pics and the post :) Minimundus was a cool and unique place, I'm glad I went 👍
I love you!
Oh Maia...another joyous and wonderful post....and I'm so happy for Hanna and Immanuel FINALLY getting married! Loves wins!
ReplyDeleteWhat a delight reading your travel stories/adventures! As an introvert, it amazes me the ease with which you fall into step with all the people you've met (or re-met) along the way!
ReplyDeleteThank you so much!! Believe me, I have my moments of really needing to be alone, but i think I'm getting better at recognizing it before it gets bad, luckily. :)
Delete