A Castle, A Beer & A Pizza

There are times when I obsess about and long for a flavor from the past. It is a hunger that cannot be quenched until I tastes of its goodness once again.

There are times when this is impossible-due to the nature of where the food came from.

I have been craving a food from the source of Salzburg, Germany-found only here at this castle.

After a vigorous climb to get to the castle (we were too cheap to ride the gondola up), Biceps and I sat down to enjoy this view…

…at the edge of the castle’s restaurant.

First things first, we ordered a tall Pilsner beer. Then, we ordered a pizza (cheapest thing on the menu) and sat back to watch the tiny cars below zipping around as our food was being prepared.

The pizza was absolutely amazing and ridiculously simple-spinach, tomatoes, mozzarella and a red sauce. I need this pizza. I want this pizza.

Blame my obsession over this fantasy pizza on the long trek to the castle, the fact that I had been subsisting on pastries and cheese for days at that point or that the scenery was unbelievably beautiful.

I don’t care. I know in my heart that my hunger for this pizza will not subside. Biceps, pack your bags. We are going back to Germany. The end.

You Matter. Your Vote Matters. America Matters.

I am more than proud to be an American. I believe this is the greatest country to grow up in, to raise my children in and to believe in. Of course, it’s run by humans that are at times deeply flawed and selfish.

But, America is still amazing. And with July 4th right around the corner, I get a bit patriotic.

That’s not to say that my heart doesn’t long for my ancestral home from time to time.

My maiden name was “Matlach” (pronounced mat-lock) and then I married a “Greiman” (pronounced gry-man). My great-grandparents took a boat over to escape the impending WW1. There is still a Greimann farm (yep, the original spelling had two “n’s”) in Germany. I was born in Landstuhl, Germany and resided there for three years. My roomie and I treated ourselves to a European vacation upon graduation. Heck, I even speak German. We love beer, Wienerschnitzel and Lederhosen.

Could we get any more Kraut than that?

With our profound love for Germany, Biceps and I took a month long vacation to see as much of Europe as we could. As beautiful as many of the places were that we visited, I couldn’t shake the feeling that humanity had seen evil and had turned its head.

Hitler had come from nothing and became the German savior. He promised economic stability, had given hope to a people poor and disillusioned and had promised to rid the earth of the “Jewish problem”.

Under his regime millions of Jews, disabled and mentally unstable persons, Catholics, Soviets, Polish and more were murdered. The German people had given up and trusted Adolf implicitly.

This monument in Berlin was to remind the world of the grottos the Jews and the other “undesirables” were forced to live in for years. The monument was suffocating, confining and repetitive.

I remembered hearing about Check Point Charlie and all of those that died trying to cross through these gates, deliver Bibles, or just try to get information to their loved ones on the other side.

I remembered watching the Berlin wall being destroyed by fed up Germans in 1989 and I remembered hearing Reagan’s infamous words “Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall!”.

As beautiful as Germany is, as wonderful as my German heritage is, I am still thankful to be an American. We aren’t perfect, but we demand democracy. If we will only do our part and let our tiny little voices that live in Tulsa, Ok or Dayton, Oh or Murfreesboro, Tn or anywhere else be heard-we will continue on with our democratic system.

As soon as we decide our vote doesn’t matter, we have given up our rights and have been seduced to think we don’t matter–that the government will do what it wants.

America is wonderful-screwed up, messed up, and sometimes downright awful-but it’s ours. Don’t give it away to anyone else. Don’t turn your head and expect someone else to do something about it. Because you may not like what it is they do in your name.

You matter.

A “Why?” from a viewer at the K.C. Museum

I enjoy viewing sculptures, paintings and anything else that has to do with art. However, every once in awhile, I am left scratching my head–but doing it in a very cool manner so that others with hipster skinny ties and black horn rimmed sunglasses don’t whisper to their equally hip girlfriend, “She doesn’t get it, does she?”.

I was ecstatic when my brother asked me to join him at the Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art in Kansas City.

We enjoyed the grandness of the museum…

…the restaurant which we wanted to partake of, but ran out of time….

…and the chinese temple that’s been displayed for over 80 years.

We saw the new, the not so new and the ancient. I enjoyed every sculpture, painting and “interpretation” of life. When it comes to art, I often don’t ask “why”.

Heck, I know I sometimes can’t answer the “why” behind my own art.

But, seriously-Why?

Mysteries in the Museum

The Nancy Drew side to me has always been intrigued by Ancient Egypt. The hieroglyphics, the pharaohs, the pyramids, the mysteries behind it all are fascinating. It sounds lame, but I have seen every Indiana Jones movie more than once, I consume books about Cleopatra and I often speculate how the pyramids came to be.

While in Kansas City, my little brother mentioned there was an Ancient Egypt exhibit at the Nelson-Atkins Museum.

Be still my beating heart.

The 7′ hand-painted coffin of the noble woman Meretites is breathtaking.

It’s perfect, but imperfect.

And who doesn’t love a good mummy?

If this guy was guarding my tomb, you’d better believe there would be no grave robbers. That is, if he could move….

After only an hour at the museum, the two of us had to head back home. But, I was satisfied-for now. Watch out, mummies and golden coffins, for I will return.