Pisa, Italy- February 7, 2009

We awoke to a gorgeous, sunny day...our last day in Italy. We loaded the car and got ready to check out around 10 am. The check out was an omen of things to come today. The landlord we had talked to on Tuesday, Frederico, was gone already and his mother checked us out. We were charged WAY too much for gas and electricity usage and then charged an unexpected cleaning fee on top of it all. It was still a good deal for the condo, but it left a bad taste in both of our mouths. And, it was hard to argue with someone who barely spoke English. We paid, and left somewhat frustrated.

On our way out, Kevin stopped at a cemetary I had often looked at on our way to Florence. It looked like something out of Romeo and Juliet to me. The grounds were covered in white marble crosses. It was beautiful. I took alot of pictures while Kevin and Weslee waited in the car.

We decided to head to Pisa and see the leaning tower before we had to return the car and catch our flight home. We got to Pisa and got lost. We had a hard time finding parking, and all the while, the sky was starting to darken. Rain was once again threatening our sight-seeing. We finally found a place to park and headed up to the ticket counter. Weslee wasn't allowed at the top of the tower, so we took turns hiking up to the very top.

Kevin had me go first so that I could get shots of the city and cathedral before the rain clouds moved in. It was so cool to look down so far and see Weslee chasing the pigeons down the sidewalk. Kevin had me wave from the top so that he could catch me on video. The coolest part about climbing up the tower was that it felt almost like you were going down-hill on the side where it was leaning, and then it felt like a very steep hike on the side that was tilted up. It had a sense of vertigo about the whole thing. The marble steps were heavily grooved and if you didn't watch where you were going, with the vertigo and everything, it was easy to slip and fall.

When I got to the top, I leaned against the railing (I'm still a little afraid of heights, and my stomach was turning flips) and watched all of the tourists below taking pictures on the lawn, pretending to "hold up" the leaning tower. Vendors were crowding the streets selling pizza and other snacks, pictures, souvenirs, and umbrellas. And all the while, the baptistry and cathedral stood like white giants looming out of the very green grass below. The wind wildly whipped my hair into my eyes and mouth. It was exhilarating.

I got to stay on the top for half an hour before it was Kevin's turn. Kevin handed Weslee to me, and he made the hike up. While he was up there, it began to sprinkle. Weslee LOVED it. He ran around, jumping in mud puddles, and splashing after the birds. By the time Kevin came down, Weslee was wet to his knees, but very, very happy.

At this point, we decided that we'd tour the cathedral. While we were inside, it began pouring rain. Our time was almost up on our parking meter, and we had no other choice but to run out into it. We were drenched again, by the time we made it to our car.

Tom-Tom still wasn't working. The narrow streets weren't allowing the satelites to pin-point our location. We guessed our way out of there...and luckily made good choices. But, we had a bigger problem on our hand. Italian siesta had closed every gas station between the leaning tower of Pisa and the airport. We were at a quarter tank and were supposed to turn the car in full. Apparently, the Italians have never heard of "pay at the pump". We finally decided to just take the car back and pay for it (and oh, did we ever pay for it) there.

By the time we got to the airport, we were wet, tired, and feeling irritated with the financial dealings of the day. We felt swindled. But, there was more yet to bear. The lady at the check-in counter...we'll call her "Nazi Lady", informed us that our carry-on bags were too heavy and would have to be checked in. Both of our bags were over the weight limit by a couple of pounds. We tried to rearrange, but their policy wouldn't let us...and there was a long line of weary travellers behind us. It wouldn't have been so bad if they didn't decide to rip you off if you have to check a bag. It cost us about $60 to check those extra 4 pounds of stuff in. Yikes. And, to top it all off...she was so pushy, we forgot Weslee's diapers and wipes in the carryon. Luckily, I had the presence of mind to remember my wallet and passports.

As we angrily stepped away from the counter, and through the security check-out, I remember Kevin saying, "Hope Weslee doesn't go poop". Less than an hour later, I was trying to salvage a diaper in the women's room. Still steaming that Nazi lady wouldn't let us get the things we needed most, I tried to clean the diaper as best I could (it wasn't too bad, actually...but it seemed horrendous at the time) and put it back on Wes. We got on the plane without speaking much and Nazi lady took our tickets, making my blood boil all over again.

Once we settled into our chair, it wasn't so bad. In fact, I was able to laugh about everything that had happened. We joked with some of the other passengers on the plane that perhaps Ryan Air wasn't such a good deal after all, and that paying a little extra for another airline might make up for the inconvenience and lack of customer service on this airline. We all chuckled for a little while.

When we landed, I can honestly say I was ready to be home. At the time, I really wasn't missing Italy at all. Maybe that's why it's taken me so long to write this blog update. I didn't come home "glowing" from my experience, even though the experience as a whole was wonderful. I came home feeling swindled and angry. I came home never wanting to return. How silly is that?

Now, with a few weeks between me and Nazi lady and Federico's mother...I can look back and feel blessed. I can look back and love the olive groves and grape vines again. I can think of the wonderful food and the amazing architecture. I can think of sitting snuggled under the blankets in our condo with Kevin at my side, reading good books, eating strawberry gelato, and hearing the frogs croak outside. I can think of how the sun made the hills sparkle with magic. And, the parts that didn't go so well have turned into part of the adventure, part of the story-telling, part of the fun of our journey.

Venice, Italy- February 6, 2009

We woke up early this morning to make the 3 hour drive to Venice. We decided that if we ever came back to Italy, we likely wouldn't be any closer to Venice than we were this trip...and if we never came back, we would be sad to miss seeing such a unique city. So, we made today a road trip day.

We packed what few snacks we had with us into the car, strapped Weslee in and headed off on our next wild adventure. This is where we got our first understanding of how crazy Italian drivers really are. When you go to any European city, you expect mayhem. For instance, the drivers in London would as soon run you over as yield for a pedestrian. Their line of thinking seems to be something like this. "My car is not very big, but it's bigger than you...and if you want to play chicken, be my guest. But, I'm encased in metal, and you are nothing but flesh and bones. So, if you don't want to be a greasy smear on the pavement, you'd better move out of my way." (Like I said, it's a loose translation. The way they'd say it in British English is rather unintelligible, so I have to make up words to go along with their actions. This, to me, is what their actions are saying.) But, the actions in any European city speak the same thing. It's a "get what I can, while I can get it" type of an attitude when European city dwellers are in their cars.

This is particularly true for Italians. As you approach a red traffic light, there may be three lanes painted onto the pavement, but that doesn't mean that just three cars should line up there in neat little lines. Oh no! Let's all cram up to the white line and have 9 cars revving their little engines, daring to be first. And, let's throw in a couple of scooters in between them all. When the light turns green, everyone floors it...whether you're in the front of the line or the back of the line. You hit the gas with everything you've got and pray that the person in front of you moves fast enough. The cars weave in and out of the painted lines and the whole time, you feel as if you're cheating death. It's a wonder anyone is still alive in Italy. That's all I can say. One of our friends, Dave Cassat, who served a mission in Italy told us that traffic rules in Italy are more like suggestions, not finite regulations that are enforced.

So, like I said, we were expecting craziness in the city, but we were not prepared for it to continue on the highways, where there was little, if any, traffic. We noticed that the Italian drivers would weave all over the road, like drunkards, with little regard for any cars that might be around them. There were several times that we'd be driving in the left lane and the car in the right lane would drift over the line toward us and then slowly drift back into their own lane. It was crazy. There was no "safe" place.

Anyway, around noon, we finally made it to Venice. We crossed over a long bridge to the island where we abruptly had to choose from 2 different parking garages. You see, in Venice, there are no cars...just boats. You park your car right when you get there, and you either walk or you ride a boat to wherever else in Venice you'd like to go. We were headed to a restaurant I had researched on the internet, Taverna San Trovaso, but we had no idea where to look for it. We just knew it was in the "Dorsoduro" part of the city.

Finally, Kevin was able to make sense of our map and we began our slow trek across the maze of canals, bridges and narrow walkways. I have never seen anything quite like Venice. The water was an amazing turquoise color, ebbing and flowing between ancient buildings that looked like they rose from the depths. In front of the homes, motor boats were tied to their moorings and secured with tarps so the rain couldn't get it.

When we arrived, it was cloudy, but the rain hadn't started yet. The sky threatened, but we came with an umbrella and weren't too worried. We finally found our way to the restaurant and had a pretty good meal. Kevin enjoyed his lasagna, but I wasn't too impressed with my pasta. It wasn't bad, but it wasn't spectacular. We were some of the last customers to exit before siesta began.

After dinner, we roamed around for a while. We didn't come to Venice with any specific plans. We just wanted to see the city, more than anything. I stopped often for pictures of the canals. We passed a little bakery on our way to San Marcos Square. I bought a few little tarts and chocolate pastries. We ate them while we walked.

When we got to San Marcos Square, about a half hour's walk from our car, it began to rain steadily. Weslee held the umbrella over his head and Kevin and I were left to the elements. We found shelter under the various shops. By the time we reached San Marcos Square, it was getting late. Weslee was tired. We were sopping wet. We decided to head back to the car, walking a different way.

We saw so many high end shops and jewelry stores. Italian leather and silk was everywhere. As beautiful as it was, it just wasn't my kind of atmosphere. I'm not a "high-end" person. I never have been. I felt somewhat out of place.

By the time we got to our car, nearly an hour later, we were drenched. Weslee was exhausted. We had lost our way in the maze of buildings several times. It felt so good to get out of our jackets and warm ourselves in front of the heating vents. Weslee fell asleep, and we ate the remainder of the tarts. Kevin braved the crazy drivers for another 3 hours, even though he was exhausted too. We swung by the Gelateria dei Neri in Florence on our way home for some blackberry and strawberry gelato and headed to our comfy condo for our last night's sleep in Italy.

Florence, Italy- February 3-5, 2009

This was the trip I have looked forward to the most since we moved to England. I have always wanted to go to Italy...and more particularly, I've always wanted to go to Tuscany. To me, Tuscany is the seat of good art, good food and beautiful countryside. The rustic villas I saw on television always drew my heart away to Italy. The rolling hills covered in grape vines and olive trees...the brightly colored, tiled roofed houses that dotted the countryside like flowers. Ahhh...to escape to Tuscany and bask in the sun. That was my idea of a dream vacation. And honestly, I wasn't disappointed. True, it rained every day that we were there...but it a strange sort of way, it added to the immense beauty. At the end of the day, the bright sun would break through the clouds and the wet foliage would seem that much more magical, the city of Florence, that much more majestic.

We arrived on my birthday in the Pisa Airport, rented a little dinky European car (manual...it was all they offered), strapped Weslee in and away we went. We were all hungry, tired and thirsty. We had gotten up at 4:30 am to get ready and catch our plane on time in London. We had barely eated breakfast. We packed so lightly we forgot to bring many snacks. We were so thirsty. We could hardly wait to get to our condo in Scandicci, just outside of Florence.

We arrived at our very charming Italian villa around 2:30 in the afternoon. The drive through the countryside, winding through the mountains had been breathtaking. My expectations for beauty had already been met. At every corner, I was amazed by the expanse of vineyards and the quaint villas on the rustic hills. The rain drizzled down steadily, but the sun would peek through the clouds every now and then, touching the scenery in magic. After a little searching, we found our condo. We parked under an olive tree and headed through the wrough iron gate.

Our very VERY energetic host brought us up to his condo to settle the room. He talked about a million miles an hour and his mannerisms seemed almost pushy to me. I found out later, that's just being an Italian. They are very friendly, very helpful, and very much "in your face". They want you to be comfortable in their home. When I hung back waiting to be invited to sit down, he was all loud, "Oh come, you sit. You sit here." In my face now, "You sit". Obviously, I sat. Weslee was pattering all over his apartment, trying to get into everything...his musical instruments, his art. I was obviously distracted and trying to keep an eye on him, as was Kevin. "You no worry. He is OK." We couldn't help it, we worried.

He showed us to our room. It wasn't lavish, but it felt authentic. The rooms had a rustic feel about them as if we were really living in the Tuscan countryside. It added to the experience, even if it wasn't completely convenient.

At this point, our stomachs we protesting LOUDLY. We asked about nearby restaurants. We were told that we were "in the countryside. The restaurants generally aren't open on Mondays and Tuesdays". I found myself thinking "Well duh...anyone would know that! Why would anyone want to eat out on a Monday or Tuesday!" But, he gave us directions to a pizza restaurant that "might" be open closer to Florence and a supermarket as well.

When we got to the pizza restaurant, we found it closed. We had assumed that Italy would work like England and the rest of Europe...meaning, you need to get food before 6pm because everything closes at that time. WRONG! Italians take a siesta. That means that the entire country shuts down from 2pm to 5pm. Restaurant employees return to work at 6pm and the place doesn't officially open up until 7pm. Then, they serve food until 2am. We were standing, starving, in front of the restaurant at 5pm...2 more hours to wait. We couldn't do it. We decided to take our chances in the dinky supermarket.

After roaming around confused for an hour or so, we finally decided on some chocolate flavored cereal, milk and fruit for breakfast the next day. We put a few different breads in the cart. I got a couple of packages of what looked like lunch meat (but I honestly couldn't tell if it was cooked or not, and I was nervous beyond reason) and some provolone cheese with a rind on it. And, then we bought some fresh vegetables (onions, zucchini and bell peppers) and a package of something that looked like chicken and sausage from the butcher and headed home.

We cracked into the bread while I was cooking. I literally mean we "cracked" into it. It was hard as a rock and had NO FLAVOR whatsoever. We were starving and it still wasn't very appetizing. We found out that many Tuscan breads are made this way...hard and lacking flavor. Who knew that the hailed capital of Italian cuisine would be so clueless about bread? I got to work immediately with my cooking experiment for dinner. I sauteed the veggies and meat together and grilled thin slices of bread with provolone cheese on them for dinner. To be honest, it was delicious. I don't know if it was because we were starving or because it really was that good. But, man! It hit the spot. I even took pictures of the whole ordeal, it was so tasty. We went to bed early, exhausted, but finally, our stomachs were satisfied.

On Wednesday, we woke early and headed to Florence. We finally found a place to park (though we had no idea where we were in relation to the things we wanted to see). On our way to the city, we stumbled across a large car park overlooking the city (because we made a wrong turn...stupid Tom-Tom) that became a favorite place for us for pictures. We went to this overlook every day that we were in Florence for pictures. The city changed moods every time we came. We were so glad to have our dinky Italian car at the car park because the parking spots were made for toy cars, not real ones...and if we had been in our Stratus, we would have never fit. But, we fit, with room to spare. We threw Wes into the stroller (which was pink and purple, because we forgot his stroller and our friend, who only has girls, loaned us theirs at the airport when he dropped us off. We got so many ODD looks from people as we wheeled Weslee, our strapping young boy, around in a girl's flowery stroller. So embarrassing.) and headed off to the city. Just walking among the buildings was an experience. I've never been any place quite like it. Small, tight alleyways actually lent charm to the place, and craziness to the already crazy traffic. It was charming.

We found a map and figured out where to go. We headed first to the Piazza del Signoria and saw the Fountain of Neptune, the replica of the Statue of David, the Palazzo Vecchio, and alot of other art. This is where Kevin first realized he was going to be seeing alot of nude people. We had someone take our picture at the fountain of Neptune, and I cracked up when I got my camera back and looked at the pictures. In the picture, Weslee, Kevin and I are all cozy, looking like a happy family...and then up in the right hand corner of the frame is the giant reproductive part of Neptune himself. Hello! We walked around and looked at some of the other statues. Almost all portrayed some scene from a war...but apparently, back in the old Roman and Greek days...everyone liked to fight in the buff. I thought, for some reason, of the Lamanites...and I wondered what all of these nude people (who remembered to wear their helmets at least) would have done if they had met with Captain Moroni's army? Hmmm...it makes you wonder.

Anyway, we headed from there to the Piazza del la Republica to see the government buildings and the exact center of Florence. Usually there are artists there in the square painting...but it must have been too cold and rainy that day for artists. So, we moved on.

Next, we headed to the Santa Maria del Fiore Cathedral (or the Duomo, as it's known in Florence). It was gorgeous. Carved out of white, pink and green marble, the massive structure with its brick dome rose like a giant out of the other clustered buildings. This was our main objective for today, and it turned out to be our favorite experience from Florence. We first went in to tour the cathedral. It housed works by Michelangelo, Dante and Donatello. We listened to an audio tour of the place. Mostly though, we just took in the immense space. There were hardly any pews or chairs in the chapel and we wondered if they set up chairs or if people stood during mass. We never did figure it out. The main attraction indoors was the cupola. The large domed ceiling was covered by a painting depicting the last Judgement begun by Vasari in 1572 and completed by Zuccaro. It was breathtaking, mainly because I couldn't imagine being up that high, for so long to paint something so detailed. It would have frightened me to death.

The highlight, however, was climbing to the top of the Duomo. Kevin (who was hefting a 30 pound child the whole way...my hero!) and I hiked the almost 500 steps to the top of the dome, getting a better glimpse at the fresco inside the dome, the structure of how it was built (out of bricks...seriously, this thing must weigh a TON), and got an amazing view from the very top of the building of the whole city. We were breathing heavy when we reached the top, but it was so worth it to see the patchwork of buildings that made up Florence, the Tuscan hills surrounding the city...just beautiful.

While we were up there, we ran into a group from Brazil, and Kevin enjoyed brushing up on his Portuguese as well. Weslee spent his time flirting with the Brazilian girls who kept taking pictures of him and exclaiming every other word, "Que lindo" (how cute).

After all of that exercise, all of us were hungry and tired, and it was getting close to siesta time. We went to a place called the "Yellow bar" for pizza, calzones, and pasta. Kevin ordered some pizza with purple onion and sausage. It didn't turn out quite the way either of us had pictured. They didn't mix any of the ingredients. There were a couple of wedges of pizza that had cheese and only onions. A couple with cheese and only sausage. And a couple with cheese and only peppers. It was a strange pizza indeed...especially the onion slices. Gross. I ordered a cheese and ham calzone, which I thought was SO DELICIOUS. We also got some Spaghetti Carbonara. The waitress looked at us kind of strange when she came back and all of the plates were clear. Crazy Americans! We eat way too much. Oh well.

Our eating wasn't finished either. I had researched gelaterias before going to Italy, and I had the address of the best ice-cream shop in Florence...Gelateria dei Neri. We headed there before heading home. We come vanilla and strawberry gelato...and fell in love with Italian gelato. We went to this gelateria every night we were in Tuscany. It was so good. We tried Mango (not so great), White Chocolate (which was pretty good, except neither of us really like white chocolate), and blackberry, which was amazing.

On our way to the car, we crossed over the Ponte Vecchio bridge, a bridge with lots of shops and apartments that is a symbol of Florence. We decided it was too many jewelry shops all in one place. We wondered how they all stayed in business.

We came home very happy with all we had accomplished. We put Weslee to bed and settled onto the couch, under the heater to read our books. Kevin was reading the Borne Identity, and I was reading the Twilight series. I was hooked, I tell you. Who knew I could be hooked to a series about high school aged vampires?

The next day, we took a different approach. We spent the morning hours driving around the Tuscan countryside. We took in the views and enjoyed the amazing scenery. This was actually Kevin indulging me. Every time we saw something amazing, he'd pull over and let me snap a picture of it. It was still a a little misty in the morning, but it was a gorgeous day, nonetheless. I took so many pictures.

We got out and walked a little through the olive groves and enjoyed the wet morning. But, by the time we reached home again, Weslee was tired and ready for a nap. We let him sleep while we read a little more from our books. We had sandwiches for lunch and just lounged until after the siesta hours. And then, we headed into Florence to experience it at night.

We went to Le Campiano pizza restaurant around 8pm. We both ordered pizza. Kevin still wasn't impressed with their thin crust variations on pizza, but at least the toppings were all mixed together. I loved my pizza...but then, I like thin crust. Mine had 3 different cheeses, fresh basil, roasted tomatoes and eggplant. It really was divine. I could live in Tuscany and eat like the Italians do. Everything except their nasty bread, that is. And then, of course, we had to go get some more gelato. After dinner, we headed up to the parking lot again that overlooked the city. I took some night time pictures of the place. We would have done more, but poor Weslee was conked out in the back seat again, and we decided to head home.

All in all, it was a lovely time in Florence. We didn't see everything. I don't think 2 days is really enough time to experience a city like this. Especially as parents of a young child, we didn't really expect to experience all of Florence. We didn't see as many art galleries as we had planned...but we did experience the art...just mostly out in the plazas where Weslee could run around and chase pigeons while we did it. We're finally learning to plan our trips, not like single or newly married people would do...but like parents would do...taking ample time to linger, stretch, walk and enjoy the simpler pleasures of the places we visit.

The trip home from Germany, January 24, 2009

We woke early with a 6 pm ferry to catch from Dunquerque, France to Dover, England...and about 12 hours of driving between us and home. It had been a good week, but we were ready to be home again. We reluctantly crawled into the car around 8am. When we started driving, the valley was just barely waking. Bakeries were lit inside, but the doors were still locked shut. The sun was just peeking over the rocky tops of the Alps. The cool blue morning enveloped us. We drove reluctantly away, stopping for a few last pictures of the mountains that had welcomed us so eagerly a few days earlier.

On our way home, we had a few adventures. We stopped in Brussels for a gas and restroom break. As I approached the restroom, a lady sat at a little table with a sign that clearly stated you had to pay 30 euro cent to use the restroom. I had about 50 euro cent left from our trip. It was a good thing that Kevin and I didn't both need to go. I couldn't believe that they actually CHARGED you to relieve yourself. It made our previous stop make a little more sense.

We stopped at a "rest area" about an hour before the gas station to rearrange the car (we had packed rather hastily) and put gas from our gas can in the trunk in the car. When we pulled up, it looked like a regular rest stop...except for one major difference. No potty. We saw a guy head out of the bushes zipping up his pants. While we were stopped, we decided to let Weslee get out and stretch his legs. It was while he was running up and down the sidewalk that I noticed that there was wet toilet paper strewn all over the grass. I even saw a large piece of human excrement in the grass. Suddenly, I became overvigilant with Wes. I think it's the only time I've ever had to tell him to stay off the grass because it was "yucky". He kept wanting to pick up leaves and grass. The whole time I was freaking out because I didn't know if it had been peed on or not. I sanitized both of our hands like crazy when we got back into the car. It was disgusting! People come and pee there all day long (like 5 or 6 guys came and went while we were parked there). And at night, no one bothers to head to the bushes. They just let it all hang out, in and around the park benches. Nasty-rific!

Anyway, we made our ferry, had a great journey. I even prepared most of my sacrament meeting talk for the next morning. We were so glad to be home.

Oh...and about the sign pictured above. This is the German word for "exit". Being the mature people we are, we kept laughing over the word. "Aus-fart". I thought I'd take a picture for posterity...even if it is through a grimy windshield.

Germany-January 23, 2009

We woke to a grey day. Not snowing, but dreary. Almost an omen for the site we would visit today. We had decided to see Dachau Concentration Camp today. It was the first concentration camp set up by the Nazi's during World War II. It was a place of unspeakable horror, not just for the Jews who found their unhappy fate awaiting inside it's cold stone gates, but also for the numberless concourses of political enemies the Nazi's wished to sweep under the carpet and silence forever.

I had never considered that there were others who suffered in places such as these. Of course, everyone has heard about the horror of the holocaust. But, in my naive mind, I considered that only the brainwashed youth of the Nazi party had witnessed the brutality along with the other Jewish prisoners. It never occured to me that German royalty, politicians and respected artisans and doctors would be witnesses as well as recipients of the terror. I shook in disgust at the unbound fingers of evil in that time.

As we entered the city of Dachau and wound our way around to the camp, we were greeted by the cold, whitewashed walls watched over by looming towers. I shuddered. Towers that men stood on to hunt the prisoners as sport. Towers men stood on to taunt and harass. Towers. An outward manifestation of inward pride. A line from the book in my lap came back to my mind. "Any of you who think that these dogs are human, who think they have human feelings, should leave. You are unfit for the work of the SS." I could imagine the young SS men lined up, many afraid to ignore the call to arms by the Nazi party (remember, it wasn't just Jews in the concentration camps...all enemies of the Nazi party were fair game), and many staring at the gaunt, lifeless faces of the prisoners, sick in their stomachs. I imagine some were eager to participate, but after the images I've seen now, I imagine that any human with a heart would inwardly wretch at the sight.

We walked on the frozen ground, audio tour in hand, to the gate. "Arbeit Macht Frei" marked on the cold metal gate. "Work makes you free". I thought back to the book we had read for the last hour, the history of Dachau. I silently thought, "the only freedom here was death".

We wandered in the memorial, once the main building. Images of the Nazi party's rise to power and Hitler's rise to command it all were chronicled. Mixed with the images and mementos were cracked concrete walls with peeling paint. Though heated, it was cold in the place, but still a welcome refuge from the frigid wind outside. I imaged what it would be like without heat, how the prisoners had endured it. We read of individual prisoners, their families, their professions, their lives. Many of them were sacrificed upon the alter of greed and insanity. But some, by miracles untold, found themselves on the other side, survivors...voices for the numberless faces that didn't ever know freedom again.

By the end of the day, my heart was numb. I didn't feel the cold, my mind was so preoccupied. I wanted to weep. I wanted to weep for the sufferings of humanity. That men could be so cruel to their neighbor. That evil should have such a long, drawn out triumph over good made me sick. But yet, as I left the place, I felt that I was on holy ground. Not because of what had happened there...but because it stands as a reminder to me and all that we have a responsibility to stop evil in its place. That we who defend good should do all we can, sacrifice what we can, to keep such dreadful things from ever happening again. And for this, I am glad I came.

Germany-January 22, 2009

This was the day we had come for. We awoke around 8am with sunlight pouring through the blinds and an absolutely breathtaking view of the Alps before us. The sky was a bright sapphire blue and the sunlight set the snowy mountains a shimer.

There was only one problem. We hadn't reserved childcare for this day. We had reserved it for tomorrow. We hurriedly called the child development center to see if we had moved up on the waiting list. No luck. We called our friends the Hatch's who were staying at the hotel with us hoping to ski as well. Shawn Hatch offered to watch all of the kids while the three of us (Kevin, me, and his wife) skiied. Was he kidding??? I couldn't let him pass up an opportunity like this. We finally decided that the wives would ski first and then come back to take the kids while the men enjoyed the latter part of the day. Only one small hang-up. Kim Hatch wasn't ready to get out of bed yet. The men decided to go first and make the most of the day.

While they were out skiing (and they came back raving about the snow and the beautiful views), Weslee and I went to the pool and the hot tub. I felt like I was living in the lap of luxury. Here we were, sitting in a steaming hot tub, under a blazing blue sky, surrounded by breathtaking mountains covered in snow. I looked around and thought, "How many people get an opportunity like this?" I couldn't believe my many blessings, and I thanked God in my heart for them.

I was anxious when Kevin and Shawn arrived at the hotel. They were later than I expected and I had been nervously watching clouds roll in. I was going to ski, but I wanted pictures as well. I was hoping to get to the top while it was still clear. My wish came true. We got in a few good runs, but neither Kim or I are maniac skiiers. We do it for leisure, and we took our time. We stopped to rest every now and then, and enjoyed the views. During these moments, I took lots of pictures. Some of them I really like.

At the end of the day, all were exhausted. I was craving a burger, but the grill was closed. We hit the buffet instead. We ate until we felt like we were going to burst. It was a very good day.