It was WWII. The spry Austrian boy known as Raimund, grew up in a beautiful small village in the Austrian Alps. These were the days before paved roads, supermarkets, and TV. These were the days of the "Greatest Generation". Life was tough. Austria, or the land soon to be named, was taken over by Nazi Germany in 1938, not by force, but by ratification. Austria was Germany.

The little Austrian boy was 15 years old. Dirt poor, Raimund wasn't the type to splurg on life. His family couldn't afford it. I don't know much about his daily life back then, but I do know he was too young to fight. The Hitler Youth, as you may know, was developed to mold the up-and-coming children. It was a propaganda tool used to forward the Nazi movement. He, too, was a Hitler Youth. All young boys were. It was what you did. Although he never saw war, he was instructed to carry a rifle around his village. It wasn't a fancy rifle. In fact, it was an Italian rifle the Germans hated, and therefore passed down to the youngsters. It was too big and the little boy was too small. He proudly dragged it behind him.

The little Croatian girl was 14 years old. Her parents were strong. Her German father was in Hitler's mighty military machine. I'm sure he was an exceptional man fighting for his country in another land. He didn't know Hitler's intentions. Really, nobody did yet. They had two sons and a 14 year old girl whom they cherished. Her name was Helena. Croatia wasn't friendly to Germans after the war. The little girl's father was shot and killed on his front door step. She was nearby. A brother was soon murdered thereafter. The slaughter of Germans by Croation Partisans was acceptable...but not to her.

The little girl and her mother packed up their horse and buggy for a long one way trip north. I'm sure they had no idea where they were destined, but they knew, wherever it was, it was better than death.

I can only imagine the dusty roads, the lack of food, and the unstoppable tears which flowed down her young face. She was too young for this. The journey was long and her thoughts must've been circling around her not-too-distant past. Her father and brother were gone, and so was her Croatian home. They finally arrived near a little Austrian village called Windischgarsten. It was a small sparkle in the post WWII world. The surrounding, overwhelmingly tough mountains probably reminded her of her strong father. The mother and daughter unpacked the horse and buggy of all their belongings. Their new life would start here.

A few years later she met a striking young man, the poor boy who once dragged his oversized rifle down the local roads. They fell in love...a true love. A love which would bind them through 59 years of marriage. They lived for each other and owned nothing. Soon they would have a child, Walter. They joke that Walter was the first piece of funiture in their house. Although poor, they managed to raise three beautiful and intelligent children. Her past was her past. She had to move on with her life. She moved on with her true love...Raimund.

Helena was Yvonne's grandmother. She passed away last week. She will be missed by all. She was loved by many...Raimund misses you.

The First Snow

At work I wear shorts and a t-shirt. We are extremely active at the factory. Always moving, moving, moving. As well, the machines produce heat. I think I'd melt if I wore pants. Needless to say, the interior of the factory is cozy warm.

Not like it was outside here in the Austrian Alps.

My night shift ended this morning at 5:30am. It was a typical day...or night. I just wanted to get home and sleep. I opened one of the many exit doors to start my "frei zeit", or in english, "freetime". To my suprise, in the dark morning, was a wall of falling snow flakes sticking to my clothes. I was stunned. I stood there for a minute, in the dark, in my shorts and t-shirt, amazed at the vertical beauty. The first snow has arrived.

But I was tired.

I went home, took a shower, and fell asleep until 4pm while Noah woke to a new magical land. I remember being his age and seeing snow. Looking at the pictures of Yvonne and Noah's snowman brought back a flood of memories. I hope it does for you too.

German Class

My co-workers at the door factory didn't understand why I, the American, asked to stare at toilets everyday. This was two and a half months ago.

As some of you already know, the Austrian government now requires immigrants to know German. Let me say that again...THEY REQUIRE IT. Two years from arriving, one must take a "German" exam. You pass; you stay. You fail; you leave. It's that simple...and I couldn't be happier. German is the official language of Austria. Since joining the EU, tons of immigrants have decended on this place, and like immigrants everywhere in the world, learning the local language is something to be put off, well, until next year.

But not here.

The goverment happily foots the bill for your classes; four of them. As far as the tax payers go, most don't know what they're paying for so it's no big deal. So why would Austria pay for my classes anyway? That's easy. People make more money when they know the local language right? More money equals a higher taxable income. The government doesn't lose money on the deal; they make money. Call it an investment.

My classes are on Mondays and Thursdays from 5-8pm. There are nine of us. Two Hungarians, a Russian, Slavakian, Croatian, Philipene, Kenyan, Serbian, and one American, me. The class is at the local community center (see photo above). I like it there. All of us are in the same boat.

And as for my work, I no longer ask to stare at toilets!

Walking in Austria

Question: What do you do when you don't have a second family car in Austria?

A. You can't go anywhere, so you stay home.

B. No seriously, you can't go anywhere, so you stay home.

C. You put on some shoes and walk, just like everyone else. Try it.

It's been about three months since we arrived. That's two haircuts, 5 tanks of gas, and 12 lbs of fat loss. Yeah, fat loss. Pretty cool huh? I had been lugging around an extra 10 lbs for the last six months (ok, shhhh, maybe 15). Upon my arrival I noticed how few overweight europeans actually exist. How do they do that? What's their secret?

Then I saw the bicycles, the hikers, and most importantly, the single car garages. Why would someone build a 3000 sf house and only give it a one car garage? I thought about this for a bit, then for another little bit, and finally, it came to me. Most couples really don't need more than one car. Why would you build a garage you don't need? So people walk here; down to the coffee shop, the meat market, the bakery, the church, to work, and so on. And they're skinny.

Have you figured out how I lost my weight yet?

True, I did get a manual labor job. This definately contributed to weight loss, but this adds to my point. Use your body!

Yvonne started her job on Friday. It's at a nice hotel located 1.3 miles from our house. Noah and I wanted to see the place, so we "walked" up there while she was working on Saturday. He did pretty good for a 3 1/2 yr old. Of course, we drove the car back home:) It's a warm and friendly environment. It includes golf, a spa, restaurant and the other amenities expected at a nice place. She's doing "reception". Front desk work isn't easy, so hats off to her. It's a lot of work. Anyway, Noah and I walked the 1.3 miles to say hi and relax with a coffee in my hand and an orange juice in his.

Congratulations to Yvonne. I know you'll do great!










Conversing with my 3 1/2 year old in the restaurant.



Bonus video: U.S. election prediction.

Mexican Food

This post serves no other reason other than to brag that we had Mexican food today. Yup, you heard me, Mexican food! Of course it was the Austrian version, but close enough.

Beef Burritos Baby!

The first mexican restaurant I've seen which doesn't employ a Mexican. We can let that slide considering the location right? As you can tell I really miss Mexican food, enough to stuff myself with burritos, chips, and a quesadilla. Yum yum.

My son had a sleepover at his cousins's house, which is about a 30 minute drive away. Before coming home we met down the street at "Habanero". This won't be our last visit. Extra clean place and good food.

Tomorrow I start my german classes. Wish me luck!

Mushroom Hunting in the Alps

Austrians, or at least those in the hills, have a neat little pastime. It includes exercise, family, danger, and yes more exercise. I finally took part in this event. What is it you ask?

Mushroom hunting!!

Mushroom hunting is good for you. Expect improved fitness as you scale the 45-60% inclines bent over in your mad search. It kindly reminds me of beach glass hunting back in California, but without the beach and flat ground! It takes concentration and the ability to have fun in case you don't find any.

Yvonne and I love introducing new activities to our three year old. As it turns out kids this age love the outdoors. I promise, if you tell a child to run around in a forest, he will gladly do it. Just be cautious.

Mushrooms can be poisonous!

Austrian doctors, at this time of year, treat too many mushroom poisoned patients. The cause of the problem exists with new hunters. Some people think they can eat any wild mushroom. This is not true. Eat the wrong shroom and you're DONE. Which brings me back to the three year old. Instruct him not to pick the mushrooms.

I've been resisting the mushroom hunt for two months now. How can walking the steep hills of the Alps looking for fungus be any fun? I mean, I work and I need my rest! Yes, I'd rather sleep and eat. You all go and I'll stay home. So my wife and in-laws go out, maybe once a week, for the 3-7 hours of mushroom drama. I tell them week after week that I will stay home.

But they broke me yesterday. At least my wife, Yvonne, did.

Perhaps I was in a weakened state from the overtime hours at the factory. Who knows? In any case, I went mushroom hunting and I'm glad I did. You see, it's not about the mushrooms; it's about the hunt. Such as many things in life. Enjoy the journey. Stop and smell the roses.

So Yvonne, Noah and I jumped in the car, drove up into the mountains, and didn't come home until we had a plate of, well...mushrooms!

Cycling the Alps

It's funny how the locals can ignore the rain. Seeing cyclists happily climb the hills in drowning downpours is not so unusual. And why not? They grew up in this stuff right?

Me, not so much.

Central and Southern California takes a break from the rain in summer. As well, rain in the autumn, winter, and spring aren't exactly notable. When it rains in Cali, we try to take a break from outdoor activities. That just wouldn't fly in the Austrian Alps.

Cyclists here must embrace the weather.

Yesterday morning I woke up wishing for some exercise. Maybe some cycling? But the clouds were dark...again! Geesh, what's new? The streets were dry though, and that means it's ok for sissy me to ride. Don't get me wrong, I don't mind a little bit of rain; I just lack rain gear etc to make it enjoyable.

So I decide to ride. I can always go home if it rains. Thankfully it didn't.