Almost as if I was a member to a special club called America, I continue to the short line for nationals and present my special credentials. And almost as though Tina at the counter had been anticipating my arrival since the day I left, she says, “Welcome Home Sir”

It is always a great feeling to come home. From any distance whether it is from months overseas or from a weekend getaway, the feeling of familiarity and picking up where you left off is priceless. In my situation, I found it especially comforting. After months of becoming content with lingual inferiority, I strolled through Atlanta International with my chin up and a smile as that special feeling came back….ahhhh, yesssss….competence. And although I was not lost, I had a tremendous urge to ask people for directions just so that I could demonstrate how well I could speak the native tongue.

Although I was close to exhausted from a month of new experiences and sleeping in moving chairs…followed by a sleepless night of writing and packing…followed by a transatlantic flight, no break was allowed. And thus, I mounted the 300 horses with Abbey and Sam en route to Colorado. Sam and I drove through the night and Abbey had perhaps an even tougher job of co-piloting for both of us. We took a 30 min nap in Wal-Mart’s parking lot and then went straight to the slopes.

Over the next three days we had some pretty good skiing. One day of sticky powder, one of dry powder, and one of sun. Our condo was perfect for the 5 of us, Travis, Mary, Sam, Abbey, and I. Ski-in Ski out and near the Breckenridge village. It was also fun to cook meals together after each exhausting day of skiing. It may sound strange, but exhaustion, when done correctly, is actually a refreshing break.

It was great to see Sam, and while on one of the lifts, Abs and I asked him to be a part of our wedding. He has been a great friend to us, even though we are rarely in the same city.

Travis, Mary, and Sam had the place booked for a week, but Abs and I could only stay for 3 nights. So early on Tuesday morning we set a course for the rising sun and spent a wonderful 14 hours together. We talked, we laughed, and we sat in a comfortable silence as we rolled across the great American Plains.


And for whatever its worth, I will shoot cowpies at you with a three-man slingshot from close range if you say that driving across Kansas is boring. I guess it is fine to say if you are under the impression that spending 8 hours in a car is boring. But if you claim that it is boring to drive through because it is flat, then you just claimed a stupid thing, and this strange fate mentioned above awaits you. And I am even going to go out on a limb and suggest that there are few better states to spend 8 hours driving through than Kansas (or eastern Colorado).


My grandparents made a special effort to come down to St. Louis while I was home. It was really special to see them and it always means so much when they make the 9 hour trek down the Avenue of the Saints just to spend time with us. It was great to talk to them about traveling, seeing as they have been to just about every place I visited and more.

Another highlight of the trip was getting to see Heidi and Andy’s son Tate’s Baptism. I have never seen the baptism of a baby that I know and it was nice to be a part of such a special event in his life. Furthermore it was wonderful to see all of Abbey’s family at the reception.

Yet another highlight. While home my brother and I went camping in Illinois. Talking with him by the fire makes me wish we could be in touch more often, and hopefully that will be easier in the upcoming year. But as for now I asked David to be my best man. Beyond being my brother, he is an example of courage and perseverance to me and he is the one I want standing next to me as I make this unparalleled commitment in my life.

12 hours after the round earth gave up its last glimpse of America, my parents and I touched down in Switzerland. Not since the time I was 1 year old have I had an opportunity to spend a consecutive week alone with both my parents. And in a time when I am living and studying an ocean away from the place where I grew up, feeling independent, I was afforded a unique gift. I felt like for a week, time granted me a free pass to go back to the days where I learned daily from interaction with my parents. Except in many ways it was better than those other times. My brain has developed (so I would like to think) beyond the days of dirty dipers and blankies. And my impression of my parents is significantly different from the time of my teens when I once knew everything. So in a way, this unique week in my life takes the best of it all and throws it into the setting of a vacation in Italy. We spent the days seeing new sights together and the evenings just sitting and talking in Swiss and Italian restaurants.

So, that said, I’ll give a quick run through of the trip. Lucerne, Switzerland: set against the Alps, charming, expensive. On to Venice, no one lives there, just tourists, but still really cool. Florence: Ive written enough on Florence, and I like the city more every time I go, not to mention Tuscany is one of the best spots in the world. Rome: old, fast, and beyond interesting.


So being with my parents is great, but it has to be said that being with my parents in Switzerland is super great. Switzerland is ridiculously expensive…ridiculously charming and rugged and swiss and yes…ridiculously expensive.

As I woke up on the good Friday, I walked to the third story window to get a sense for the day. I look down the alley and there where the alley meets the cobbled street is Jesus carrying his cross. I watch for a while longer as the scene plays out and then decide I have to keep getting ready. It was a passion play. Nevertheless, as the mailman rode his bike passed Jesus and as the couple walking their dog bypassed the scene, and as I decided I had to go and wash my hair, I couldn’t help but be taken by the irony of the situation. Christ gave his life for us, but so often we allow that beautiful act of love and all that it implies to become minimalized by things, and stuff, and activities. At times I have put myself first, perceiving him as merely a part of the background in a theatrical performance staring me.

(Now I am not saying that I should have thrown on my shoes and run to the street to watch the rest of the passion play, I’m just saying that the picture that I observed was an ironic snapshot and seemed to carry a lot of truth)

Venice was watery.

Anticipating huge crowds and long lines, my dad and I woke up at 6:30am to go to the Easter service in San Marco. We got there about 30 minutes early and were greeted by something I though I might never see. A totally empty Pizza San Marco. Aside from the empty wine bottles and pigeons it was without people, astonishingly. This was really a sight to see and it gave me a great appreaciation for the Piazza. And as far as the original assumption about a packed church and long lines…well… we were wrong. As we meandered into the empty church of gold and marble we were practically alone. Before the service ended there were probably about 50 people, but it really was a surprise to us that there were so few people in such a famous landmark of Roman Catholicism.

The feeling I get when getting off the train in Florence is one of fondness and familiarity, a feeling of connection. As my foot lands on the gray concrete of the platform, a vague map marked with monuments and memories makes its way yet again to the front of my thoughts. I imagine the streets of the city and the dome that defines it. I imagine leaving the trainstaion guided by my best friend who looked like a turtle. I imagine John Denver, gelato, and a bridge. Florence is a special place to me.

But as I visited it with my parents, that feeling of connection with the city grew even more. On one evening I walked my parents about 2 miles up hill to the Pizza Michelangelo. Despite the climb, we were rewarded with an incredible view of the city. They agreed, it was worth the hike. Once there, we sat on the steps, looking out over the harmonious red roofs and the giant Duomo. The sun gradually silhouetted the Cyprus-laden hillside in the distance until green turned to dark. The buildings faded from golden and our bottle of wine became just that. Actually, my dad spilled a glass. But as we sat there, I remembered why this city meant so much to me; it was the wonderful people I have been there with. As we got up to leave, this Piazza in Florence became yet another important mark on that map of memories and monuments that helps me find my way down the narrow streets.

The next day was the best day of the trip. I think we would all agree on that part. We rented a car. No, we rented a Panda, and drove to the Chianti region in Tuscany. It is possibly one of the most beautiful places in the world, well at least as far as I am concerned. We drove the winding roads until we saw a saw the first sign for a winery. So we pulled in down the dirt road and drove through the vineyards until we came to what seemed like a house, actually, it was a house, but, it was also a winery. They have this strange notion in Italy that a winery is where you make wine. I have trouble finding the source of this misconception. But it was interesting to contrast going to these Italian wineries with my idea of going to a winery where having seating and serving the people who come to taste the wine is a priority. Perhaps this example will clarify what I am trying to communicate. Going to these Italian wineries is kind of like going to a farm to drink milk. Sure its great, definitely memorable; they may even have a place where you can sample some, but lets be honest, the big activity on the farm is squeezing milk out of those utters, not serving people that milk.

We bought a couple of bottles from the elderly Italian man (he didn’t speak a word of English, but was very good at pointing and smiling) who had stopped his work to let us sample a couple of their wines. After this first winery, we continued on to stop at several more. It is hard to communicate how enjoyable it was to be with my parents, driving through the pleasantly hazy countryside just talking about life.

We had sampled many different wines but the best one, ironically was the last. What is ironic is not that it was last, but it was the one place that Abbey and I visited when we came to the region.

While we were there, an Italian man helped us sample some of the wines in their sampling room. He was fun and I have to tell you this quick story about him. His English was not very good but he could speak well enough to communicate with us. He also liked laughing, especially after he said something. He poured us some Chardonnay, which although it is definitely not a famous grape within the region, was surprisingly good. Wondering why they would produce a chardonnay in this region where the ground takes so well to Sangiovese grapes my dad primitively asks, “Why….(turns his palms up and raises his shoulders)…Chardonnay….. (points to bottle)….here ….(points to vineyards)?”. Our Italian wine producer wanting to be sure we were asking ‘why’ says “why?” My dad “Yes…yes…why” The man thinks for a second and then says, “Why no?” He immediately roared with laughter at the simplicity of his response. Of course we got a kick out of it too but he never actually did tell us why, I guess he was satisfied with his answer. He was a fun person and it was very nice of him to take the time to explain their wines to us. So, I have told several ‘you had to be there’ story and this one is probably at the top of the ‘you had to be there list’, but I know my parents are enjoying the sound clips that are undoubtedly playing in their head as they read this part.

The day was closed out perfectly at an outdoor restaurant, with hazy shades of purple and green rolling toward the horizon. Our waiter was from Romania and was also a lot of fun. His most memorable comment was this, and you have to read this slowly and imagine a Romanian accent, “No…no.. I have never been to America—mmm....but… I do know that you can not say ‘ni***r’ there.”

Like I said, Rome was fast and Rome was old. We had a private tour guide the first day. And I could write for many paragraphs about the ancient ruins, even with my very limited knowledge and experience, but the bottom line is they were unbelievably interesting. And I always love getting to see something in person about which I have learned. So instead of writing pounds of paragraphs, I’ll just post a couple pictures.

I do have to share this though. The first restaurant that I went to with my parents was the best. It was near the top of the Spanish steps and looked out from a shallow angle at the cityscape. But best of all, and I mean, this was awesome, we were seated next to a turtle fountain; In other words, a fountain with turtles in it. Now, in some ways when you go to a foreign country you are an ambassador for your own. I like to think about it like that. And so, I have to say that when the turtles started making love in the fountain, and we laughed uncontrollably and took a video, I was quite proud. And so, when European-American relations improve in a significant and unexplainable way over the next month, well, lets just say, you can thank us later.

Actually the best, part was the dance the turtles did, before mating, I got it on video and I will try and post it if possible.

Ok, even though this part is at the end, it actually happened before we even boarded the plane to Switzerland. You see, my dad suffers from a disease, it is called, “I can’t keep my eyes open in a picture for the life of me.” Although he has suffered minimally in the past, on this day in April, we diagnosed him irrefutably as a severe case. The pictures that you are about to see, have not been altered in any way. The original order of this shot sequence has been preserved and no pictures have been removed. Basically, we were just trying to get a decent picture. And folks, don’t laugh at him, he was really trying his best. Prepare to be amazed.