a little update on my little plants thanks to Elizabeth who watered them while I was gone in India.
Basilikum on the left, Petersilie on the right.
.green.
5.11.2007
yes, okay, fine. I am a bit green. actually, if that tone sounds like i'm ashamed, it's not true. i am a bit of a tree-hugger (no, not to the hippie-extent) and for several reasons that i will fail to list because it's not a part of my point.
needless to say, i've a picture here of my newest endeavor: having a green thumb. and, not to mention, growing fresh herbs to cook scrumptiously with. i was telling my boyfriend last night that i miss my mom's garden in Iowa! i never thought, as a little girl pulling weeds and scratching fresh mosquito bites, that i would miss it, but that is probably something i pine after the most. green beans, rhubarb, squash and all the fresh raspberries i could want!
thus, i'm reviving a little bit of my past, i planted some parsley and basil, and now i'm waiting for them to grow (and to see if my thumb is as green as my mom's.) as you can see by the pic, my parsley just sprouted past the surface!! i'm way too excited about it and will probably post it's progress, just because i can. if you could care less about my parsley plant, well, i'm sorry for you. :-) i'll still be your friend.
india already
5.02.2007
last week, we had a scare.
Frankfurt, Germany was the destination and getting our Indian visas (needed in three weeks and our purchased plane tickets depending on it) was the goal. Sabine, our faithful, recently-moved-to-Buesingen, German friend knows Frankfurt like the back of her hand, so we begun our trek in her car at six in the morning needing to land at the consulate before they closed for the day at 11:30a.m.
The sunrise was pink and purple and spectacular. I realized that I miss out on beauty because I sleep, but usually the sleep is worth it. (besides, i figure that if i saw the sunrise every day, i don't think i would be able to appreciate it as much. so i'll save it for special occasions and sleep more.) We stopped at McDonalds for breakfast -- it would be a two-in-one-day-McDonalds-run and this I am not used to. It was the first time I've stepped into McDonalds in probably 3 months (and then that was only for WC needs).
Unfortunately, due to several accidents, morning traffic through Stuttgart and then another ,for another 45 minutes to Frankfurt, we pulled (with Sib's crazy driving -- at one point going over 100 mph. yeah, don't tell my mom) up to our parking space at 11:10.
We had twenty minutes to get in and through the line.
We'd been smart and gathered up all of our pocket change to make 50 Euro -- i lent 50 to simone -- each to pay for our tourist visas, filled out our forms and headed in. Sib got through the line first, paid her 50 Euro and then it was my turn.
"Sefent-y fife e-uros pleese," I heard the man at the window through the eye-level hole in the glass.
"Crap," my heart started beating and I told Sib that Simone would need more money and she literally ran out the door. I quickly took 25 more Euro from Simone's hand and paid for my visa. Simone and I hung back in line, sighing, raising our eyebrows, hating the fact that "American" must mean "rich tourists" and hoping and praying that Sib would somehow fly to the cash machine and back in 5 minutes. She didn't, but one by one, people kept trailing in. And we kept letting them go ahead of us to the window.
The last guy left his fate in the hands of the Indian consulate just as I spotted Sib running back along the street. I shoo-ed Simone up to the window and the guy seriously considered waving her away! But he relented (he must have anticipated American girl wrath) and she deliberately and slowly pushed her passport and papers under the window.
I ran to get the door and tell her that there was still time (unbeknownst to me, it was already almost 11:40) and a red-faced and barefoot Sib got the cash to Simone just as she needed it. (Mind you, if she hadn't it would've been another 8 hours in the car or train and another whole day to spend in Frankfurt. no thanks.)
We walked back to the car, a little giddy and a lot lighter. We were all a little adrenaline rushed, all a little thirsty, so we laughed and broke out the Flouder and appleshoeler drinks.
Sabine returned at 4:30 to collect our visas and they were granted, no problems. In two weeks we'll be on our way to India. But I have this strange and certain feeling that this will only be the beginning of our close calls and Indian adventures. We leave 16 may and more stories will be posted following our return...
Frankfurt, Germany was the destination and getting our Indian visas (needed in three weeks and our purchased plane tickets depending on it) was the goal. Sabine, our faithful, recently-moved-to-Buesingen, German friend knows Frankfurt like the back of her hand, so we begun our trek in her car at six in the morning needing to land at the consulate before they closed for the day at 11:30a.m.
The sunrise was pink and purple and spectacular. I realized that I miss out on beauty because I sleep, but usually the sleep is worth it. (besides, i figure that if i saw the sunrise every day, i don't think i would be able to appreciate it as much. so i'll save it for special occasions and sleep more.) We stopped at McDonalds for breakfast -- it would be a two-in-one-day-McDonalds-run and this I am not used to. It was the first time I've stepped into McDonalds in probably 3 months (and then that was only for WC needs).
Unfortunately, due to several accidents, morning traffic through Stuttgart and then another ,
We had twenty minutes to get in and through the line.
We'd been smart and gathered up all of our pocket change to make 50 Euro -- i lent 50 to simone -- each to pay for our tourist visas, filled out our forms and headed in. Sib got through the line first, paid her 50 Euro and then it was my turn.
"Sefent-y fife e-uros pleese," I heard the man at the window through the eye-level hole in the glass.
"Crap," my heart started beating and I told Sib that Simone would need more money and she literally ran out the door. I quickly took 25 more Euro from Simone's hand and paid for my visa. Simone and I hung back in line, sighing, raising our eyebrows, hating the fact that "American" must mean "rich tourists" and hoping and praying that Sib would somehow fly to the cash machine and back in 5 minutes. She didn't, but one by one, people kept trailing in. And we kept letting them go ahead of us to the window.
The last guy left his fate in the hands of the Indian consulate just as I spotted Sib running back along the street. I shoo-ed Simone up to the window and the guy seriously considered waving her away! But he relented (he must have anticipated American girl wrath) and she deliberately and slowly pushed her passport and papers under the window.
I ran to get the door and tell her that there was still time (unbeknownst to me, it was already almost 11:40) and a red-faced and barefoot Sib got the cash to Simone just as she needed it. (Mind you, if she hadn't it would've been another 8 hours in the car or train and another whole day to spend in Frankfurt. no thanks.)
We walked back to the car, a little giddy and a lot lighter. We were all a little adrenaline rushed, all a little thirsty, so we laughed and broke out the Flouder and appleshoeler drinks.
Sabine returned at 4:30 to collect our visas and they were granted, no problems. In two weeks we'll be on our way to India. But I have this strange and certain feeling that this will only be the beginning of our close calls and Indian adventures. We leave 16 may and more stories will be posted following our return...
prayer
5.01.2007
I wrote this earlier today:
"In prayer, God not only fully understands every word in every language, but also the details behind each word, even if we don't feel it is sufficient. He even takes into accound the hearts' cries behind the words and hears what we are not even able to express -- and when we intercede for another our inadequate prayers are heard and understood and adequate answers are given...
"What I'm really trying to say is that Rahel's prayer for me, in Swiss-German, was fully understood by God even though I didn't get a thing, save a few words here and there -- and although she doesn't know the details or even the magnitude of what she was asking for me, God heard what she said, understood, sees the situations for what they are and knows her heart in desiring to intercede. We don't have to 'get' it all -- giving all is all we need."
Prayer is a demonstration of hope. Hope is usually a good thing. Except sometimes when I have a crazy desire to pray and keep praying, and then it feels like a weight on my soul and my shoulders (and, believe me, I already have enough knots as it is!) -- especially when I find myself unable to pray as I feel He deserves or desires. But I keep going, attempting to remain aware, and letting God find me, grab my attention and sit me down for a chat if that's what He wants. I can't describe in words my need to pray, but I know it's there. I don't really have a clue what prayer is or what it does, but I'm driven toward it. I haven't really seen miracles in prayer, but I naively believe in its power anyway. (*shrugs*)
"In prayer, God not only fully understands every word in every language, but also the details behind each word, even if we don't feel it is sufficient. He even takes into accound the hearts' cries behind the words and hears what we are not even able to express -- and when we intercede for another our inadequate prayers are heard and understood and adequate answers are given...
"What I'm really trying to say is that Rahel's prayer for me, in Swiss-German, was fully understood by God even though I didn't get a thing, save a few words here and there -- and although she doesn't know the details or even the magnitude of what she was asking for me, God heard what she said, understood, sees the situations for what they are and knows her heart in desiring to intercede. We don't have to 'get' it all -- giving all is all we need."
Prayer is a demonstration of hope. Hope is usually a good thing. Except sometimes when I have a crazy desire to pray and keep praying, and then it feels like a weight on my soul and my shoulders (and, believe me, I already have enough knots as it is!) -- especially when I find myself unable to pray as I feel He deserves or desires. But I keep going, attempting to remain aware, and letting God find me, grab my attention and sit me down for a chat if that's what He wants. I can't describe in words my need to pray, but I know it's there. I don't really have a clue what prayer is or what it does, but I'm driven toward it. I haven't really seen miracles in prayer, but I naively believe in its power anyway. (*shrugs*)
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