Funny thing about those road signs ...

So prior to moving here, I was a wee nervous. I had never lived in a foreign country; I did not sprechen this new language. Relax! everyone told me. An army base is just a little America, you’ll feel right at home! Let’s think a moment about the home I was just leaving: 114 degrees, covered with dirt (they call it sand, but come on, it’s dirt), palm trees, cacti, swimming pools and a Sonic on every corner. This was a good home. Driving in the van that picked us up from the Frankfurt airport I saw giant green trees, tiny white cottages, an alarming number of goats, and tiny old ladies riding bikes everywhere. Yep, pretty sure Germany is a little different than Arizona. But I did not give up hope – any minute I would see the good ol’ red-white-and-blue waving over an assortment of fast-food restaurants and – oh, I could only dream! – a Target. We made it to the army post in Grafenwoehr. I was ready for a personal greeting from Uncle Sam, and, possibly, a fireworks display that night (I’m a bit of a patriot, you know). The van drove through the check point where we were let in by German security officers. We drove down a street called “Neustadt Strasse.” The sign at the hotel said “Wilkommen.” Hmmmm. I knew we were on the base, but still no signs of America. The following morning I set out to find the great U.S. of A. I walked down to the commissary (a fancy military word for bad grocery store), where I was greeted in German, scolded in German for not using the correct tongs to select my pretzel, and helped out by a German cashier. Not wanting to get lost, I had taken note of the street name our hotel was on: Einbanstrasse. Got it. Exiting the commissary, I turned on to Einbanstrasse to head home. I reached a T-junction, where Einbanstrasse split. That’s interesting. I followed it to the right, where it split again! I was following the street back to my hotel, right? Then why was I on the other side of the post, trucking along the tank trail with my stroller? German lesson No. 1: “Einbanstrasse” means “one-way street.”

This information has since served me well. As for my little America: I did discover a Taco Bell. But the America part is limited to that and the offensively large SUVs parading up and down the years-old cobblestone roads. Watch out, old cycling ladies!

Cami Goes to School

So Cami has officially started school here. She is attending a German kindergarten that was surprisingly easy to get into ... The other American moms and I are skeptical that it is actually a covert Nazi sweatshop and our ignorant children are easy labor. Political agenda aside, she is really loving it (even with the occassional complaints of sore fingers ...). :) Just kidding. She comes home counting in German, singing in German, and telling mommy NO! in German. So delightful. The best part is that each Tuesday all of the students have a day of exploration in the nearby forest. Regardless of weather (I was recently told by a German that the national motto is "There's no such thing as poor weather, just poor attire), the four teachers bundle up all of the children and go walking down the street, armed with buckets, shovels, and a big pot of German dumplings (I guess just bringing fruit snacks would be too easy). So far, Cami has brought us back reports of spotting a giant rabbit, a snake and what I could only infer from her description to be a homeless forest-dwelling man who is probably getting pretty cold by now. In addition, at the end of each Tuesday, her little pockets are bursting with acorns, petals, leaves and pinecones -- she is still searching for "her very own cactus" -- most of which ends up in her bed that night. A common trend among women of all ages here is facial piercings. One of Cami's teachers has several eyebrow rings and a nose ring. For the first few weeks of school, Cami was insistent that this teacher was a pirate, and she refused to talk to her out of fear. Now that we have ascertained that Frau Stephanie is, in fact, not a pirate, Cami is hung up on Fraulein Andra, who has a diamond stud on one of her teeth (another common fashion statement here). For the past few days, Cami has been pleading with me to let her also have "a sparkle on her teeth." I'm sure there must be some academic enlightenment going on somewhere ... If not, I'll take two Nazi patches to go, please.