macau.

After being in Hong Kong, I expected Macau to be something similar. Maybe even a little more. It is about an hour ferry ride from Hong Kong Island. Sometimes I wish the subways, airplanes, and ferries were all transparent, because it don't think we realize the ways and means of which we travel. I can take the subway to Hong Kong Island. And island. I don't know anything about how that works but I imagine myself being shot through a hollow tube at high speeds under water. Can you imagine the reality of it? Or flying? We are in a chamber, MILES above the Earth's surface where the temperatures are well below freezing at high speeds. But we go about our business, reading, watching movies and the like, only to hear the deadened hum of the violent torrents from which it came.

So to get to Macau, I have to be shot through a tube underwater to get to an island, from which I then ride a boat out on a turbulant and bottomless ocean before I get to Macau. The ferry to Macau was pleasant, a bit rough but I found the undulation of the ocean relaxing. The other passengers didn't seem to think so. To my surprise a good many had motion sickness. So periodically, you could hear the coughing, spitting, and dry heaves (now and then hearing the contents hitting the bag) of some very miserable seafarers.

The first thing I noticed is that everything is written in at least Chinese and Portuguese. I was rather relieved to be able to recognize an alphabet and read it. The second thing I realized is that not everyone speaks Portuguese. I believe the more educated people can, because I sat through Mass that was conducted in Portuguese. The Portuguese were the first Europeans to "setup shop" in China, so I was under the impression that there would be beautiful European architecture everywhere. I was dropped of in a very run down part of town. It was a residential area by the docks and it reeked of petrol and fish. The map that I was provided wasn't a detailed map, leaving out road names, and I was forced to go by intuition. But if I had to do anything before I left, I had to go see the Ruinas de Sao Paulo--the Ruins of Saint Paul. One of the oldest churches in Macau, it was burned to the ground and only the facade remains.

I walked through the narrowing streets for a while, taking my time. The streets started to become speckled with stones instead of pavement. I was coming up an inclined street when I came upon pastel painted apartments, clearly not of Chinese design. And in the void, where the apartments and street met, there was a stone structure. It looked like a building with no walls. I continued to walk toward it and what unfolded before me was what I was looking for, As Ruinas de Sao Paulo!

It was the only church that I visited that wasn't painted in pastels. St. Anthony's and St. Lawerence Church were both painted in pastels. Inside was adorned with Spanish tile of intricate designs on the floor and ceiling. All to be contrasted with dark-stained pews and altar. Every once and a while, among the tattered buildings, you with find a little piece of Europe. Government buildings and churches all of Portuguese architecture. But they are all spread out. But where the Ruins of Sao Paulo were, the streets and buildings were all European-esque. Adjacent to the Ruins are a museum and a fortress so I was able to do much more than I expected without traveling too far. I also stumbled upon the Real Senado. It was well-kept, with its cobblestone streets and pastel buildings. There were doing some renovation to some of the old governments buildings so I couldn't see the Senado in all its glory.

I wish I could go back and do more. I didn't get to see the other islands that are a part of Macau because I was pressed for time and money. But I don't have any regrets. I did want I set out to do, and that was see the Ruins of Sao Paulo. And though I usually don't have set plans, I like it like that. Because the best thing about not knowing where you are going next is that all roads lead there.

china.

I originally planned to make a runnnig blog of my travels but because of the fact that the Chinese government blocked my blog site, I was unable to write about my accounts until now.

For the past two and a half weeks, I have been exploring China. I started in Dalian, and via Beijing, Nanjing, Shanghai, and Xi'an, I finally arrived here, in Hong Kong. There really is an art to travel. And it isn't something that comes naturally. Its takes a couple of uncomfortable trips, stupid mistakes, and losing money to really learn how to be a skilled, smart traveler. I, just like any, have made such mistakes. And my motto in preparation for this trip as been semper preparatus: always prepared. But I think I was overly prepared. I was too prepared. I was preparing for everything but the plague, it seemed like. What I should have done, was to prepare for the most likely mishaps. But then again, one could argue that anything could really happen.

China is different, this is for sure. The one thing I have been thinking about is if courtesy is a cultural characteristic rathar than a innately human characteristic. Because the Chinese have not, by my definition of courtesy, been very courteous. It is by all means every-man-for-himself mentality. I say this from my experiences in mainland China. But I don't know. I don't know if it is simply that they aren't courteous or they don't know any better. I can only hypothesize that maybe it was due to the communist regime. Living in a society where hard work isn't merited by some sort of reward, such as increase pay or a better job suited for your wants and needs, it seems understandable that the masses do things to be one step ahead of everyone else. If the government doesnt recognize the hard work and sacrifice, you have to find other means to get ahead. It it seems to have seeped into their very etiquette towards each other.

I think I have most enjoyed Beijing, Shanghai, and now, Hong Kong. They are major cities in China and has a long history of interactions with the rest of the world. Nanjing was interesting because of the Nanjing Massacre Museum. If anyone doesn't know about it, I highly recommend you read about it. It doesn't receive enough recogition, I feel. The museum tells of the accounts of the Japanese occupation in 1937. They did absolutely atrocious acts against humanity through their brutality toward the Chinese. In the past, far removed from now, Japan has had a history of aggression on mainland Asia. Walking through the museum, it was heart wrenching for me because they were brutal and on a personal level, I feel that Korea and China share many of the same pain and sorrow caused by Japan. Thankfully the Japanese are not like that whatsoever but what it did start was a silent resentment that has been carried through the generations. Even now, I hear about blind prejudice against the Japanese from those who were never alive to witness what happened.

Hong Kong has a different feel than mainland China. I had the opportunity to take the famous Peak tram up to the top of a mountain and see a breathtaking site of Hong Kong. Hong Kong Island reminds me of Manhattan while Kowloon is Brooklyn. It is as multicultural as New York City with all races walking the streets. Hong Kong is a tropical island city like Hawaii with beautiful flora and green covered mountains. It has a romantic side to it, which I like. When I was in China, I didn't feel that any of the cities had a romantic feel to it. Shanghai could but doesn't compare with Hong Kong because Hong Kong has that organic beauty.

I hope to see what Macau is like. It shouldn't be too long now before I take the ferry there. I've always wanted to go to Macau because I told myself it will be the closest thing to Portugal I'll get for a long time.

travel jitters.

Tomorrow I'll leave for China. But in the mean time, I'm here in Atlanta with family friends. So I've had a good deal of time to think about what is going to happen. Besides the total euphoria I get about the fact I'll be exploring an ancient civilization, I also think about international hostility such as nuclear testing and imprisoned American journalists in North Korea, a brewing coup in Iran, terrorism, disappearing and hijacked planes. They are awful thoughts, I know, and certainly not something one wants to think about when you are about to be on a 13 hour flight. What about that movie "Taken" where the naive American tourists are abducted and then sold in an underground sex market. Fiction has be to be inspired by truth, right? I haven't had travel jitters like these when I traveled in the past because before, I went to western Europe. I was safe in a first-world country. Then again, in the movie "Taken" the Americans are in Paris...

When I go on trips I try not to have a list of things to do. It's such an arduous process trying to complete a "to do" list. There is no joy in that. It shouldn't be burdensome. Besides, there is no worse disappoint than not completing what you set out to do. I try to let the place and culture reveal itself to me. Walk around a city or town and let yourself discover things. It's amazing what you will find, or what will find you, if you let yourself get lost a little. Of course there are things I would like to see, such as the Shaolin Temple, Chin Woo School, and the Forbidden City, but this is not all of China. They are famous structures and things we associate when we think of China but it is definitely more than that. I hope to discover things that foreigners do not often do, something that hasn't been watered down by tourism. I hope to walk the road less traveled.

bienvenue en louisiaine.

I have been spending time in Louisiana to catch up with family and friends before I depart for China. The last time I was in Louisiana was last Thanksgiving. I usually average about 3 trips a year since 9 hours of driving is not very conducive to my time, wallet, and energy. I haven't lived in LA for the past 7 years and so when I visit, its always refreshing. I always reacquaint with my love for Louisiana though I never appreciated it when I lived there. To truly appreciate Louisiana, you have to know her history. I say this because I didn't start loving Louisiana until I understood where she came from. Louisiana is one of the most unique places in the US and it has a culture entirely its own.

You first have to realize that Louisiana is old. it was first explored by Europeans in the 16th century. That's 600 years ago. I can't fathom 150 years much less 600 years. I suppose you can argue that most of the New England areas are comparable in age. What makes Louisiana different is this: She has influences from the French, Spanish, English, Native Americans, and Africans and has retained those roots through culture and language. Lets take language--Besides English, There are three dialects of French spoken in Louisiana, most notably, Cajun French; Louisiana Creole French, Cajun English, and even Louisiana-Canarian Spanish spoken by Isleños. And then their is food--Cajun food which was influenced by the European French speakers (Acadians) and Creole which was heavily influenced by the Spanish and African peoples as well as French. My favorite dish would have to be gumbo. And if anyone knows how to make a great bowl of gumbo, they know the secret is in the roux. And roux can take hours to make but its well worth it. I call it a labor of love. And you can't be impatient when making roux. I usually try to make it when I know I have no plans for the rest of the day. I play some music to get my spirits high, maybe drink some wine, and I stir the flour into the oil and let it shimmer until its as dark as the Atchafalaya River.

Nothing is more laced with life, love, and pain than Cajun music. If there is anyone who knows about the hardship of life, it would be the Acadians. Exiled from Canada by the British if they refused to pay allegiance to the British crown, they finally settled in Louisiana to live without prejudice. Their music is of melancholy and deliverance, pain and joy. And you hear their life story in their music. It is not surprising that this all sounds like a history lesson. Like I said, to appreciate Louisiana, you have to know where she came from. I feel like I do. I love Louisiana because I feel like I understand her. Despite her firey heat and her tumultuous weather, I still come back. The is something about her; she has mystery. You can see it when you watch the sun set over the cypress as the peat moss waves in the wind. You can see it when you see the reflection of the moon in the bayou with the sounds of frogs and crickets in the background. She dances her own dance, walks her own walk, talks her own talk, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Wisdom.

Again, lost in moments of contemplation. I tend to write when it is raining. Especially rainstorms at night. Nothing seems to stimulate my thinking than the rhythm of falling rain and the rumbling thunder. Moments and images run through my head; old dreams and new hopes; people, places, experiences--all through a glance from my mind's eye.

I have been enjoying my summer so far. Interesting conversations with a variety of people as well as moving through those quirky moments Life tends to place in our path. When you go through your life, whether pleasant or unpleasant, you really can't ask for anything more than Experience. Our innocence is lost but wisdom gained.

So I've been to a couple of weddings. It is interesting that I am at a stage of life where my friends are getting married. Wow. Interesting where life takes us and who we end up with. When you go to weddings, reality really hits you in the face. This is real, this is actually happening. These individuals that you know so well are making a huge leap of the unknown. Its so eerie yet so perfect.

mind. heart. and everything in between.

"Love ceases to be a demon only when it ceases to be a god"

-Denis de Rougemont

I can't seem to get any sleep tonight because for one, my pillows are in the dryer, and I have so many thoughts buzzing around in my head. I have been recently thinking about how we tend to unknowingly entangle ourselves in emotional bondage. This can manifest itself as hanging on to someone's word or some hope stemming from a far-fetched reality. We become slaves to these false hopes and promises, compromising our good judgment on the improbable possibility or impossible probability. It can be devastating for sentient creatures such as ourselves. Longing, unmet expectations, pining, false hope--all these are descriptions of when our emotions go terribly wrong. I do believe emotions comes from something pure and good inside us, but when we live solely for our emotions is when it grows sour and perverse. When we exalt emotions above all else it drives us to do the most unreasonable things (think crimes of passion). It puts into perspective the shear power of our emotions. A mere crush grows into liking, into Eros, into infatuation, into dangerous obsession.

Our mental processes are a balancing act between reason and emotion, between the mind and the heart. It begs the question, "When the mind and heart agree can man truly can be happy? or at peace?" And I am sure we can agree, moments when our minds and hearts agree are far and few between. Too much reason makes you animatronic, dull, stoic; on the other hand, too much emotion makes you impulsive and reckless. It is really impossible to quantify how much reason and how much emotion we should utilize in our everyday lives. And to undergo such a task is ridiculous. So I think a sound, balanced mind can be better obtained by this simple maxim: "All things in moderation." For it is a fine line between a sound mind and total oblivion.

of things to come.

This summer I have one thing on my mind: China. Well, also finding a job (among other things) but mostly China. In the end of June I'll embark on my journey to the Far East. I'm actually going to visit my father who has been working there for quite some time now. I don't know why I never thought about visiting him before but I hope this will be one of many visits to see him. Besides, it will contribute to my pursuit to fill every page of my passport.

Usually when I travel, I don't plan where and what I want to do. I leave it to chance, I suppose. At the very least I want to taste the food and meet the people. But for this trip I would like to visit the Yanbian Korean Autonomous Prefecture (연변 조선족 자치주/延邊朝鮮族自治州). The people that live in this area are ethnically Korean but live in China and speak both Korean and Chinese. I'm curious to see how these Koreans differ in dialect, food, and culture compared to the Korean culture that I am familiar with. There is no doubt that there will be a strong influence of Chinese culture and I'd like to see how this causes deviations in its Korean culture in this "Third Korea."

Something that I have noticed about myself is that though I enjoy traveling, I tend to get cold feet; I get nervous about leaving what I know. And I feel this is proof of how terribly conformed I can be with my life. But it only pushes me to want to see the world more. It is definitely courage of a different kind.

Listening to "A Vizinho do Lado" by Roberta Sá

thankful.

This past week has been eventful. And by eventful I mean it has been full of spending time with friends. I have never really been the kind of person who makes friends very quickly. Nor do they come in high volumes when I do. Growing up I've always had a small and very close friend base. And in those times when life calls us to go our separate ways, it becomes a big deal to me. But my time here in Auburn has taught me much about learning how to let go.

So that cycle has come once again while I have been in Auburn. Friends get engaged, friends graduate and move away, friends pursuing a calling. And so it forces me to find a new friend base. And how does one do that? I guess you can go find new friends, like you find a new pair of shoes. Or...not. As old friends go, new friends come in. And always with impeccable timing, it seems. And so this past week I have been spending time with a new group of people and just getting to know and talk to people I don't think I would normally talk to. And I find all this refreshing. All this change around me--I don't even recognize my surroundings.

I believe that the people you associate with influence you in pieces. So as I start to know these new and interesting people, I know that somewhere in me, I am changing as well. And Change has been pretty much my theme these days.

I am so thankful for these people that have been pretty much dropped into my life. Joy.

So, yay for Change.

hard stuff.

I had recently put myself in a most precarious position. Or did I? I can't claim that I have any control over how the wheels will turn. All I know is that my reality was shaken and it forced me to make a hard decision. But God puts us in "hard positions" for a reason. And good reasons at that. We can never really say a seemingly "bad" situation at present is really, well, bad. Because how many times has its effects rippled into the future and ultimately produced a "good" effect? I certainly have testimony of that. I think back on my life and question: "what if God granted me everything I ever asked for?" My life would not be the life I'm living right now. Actually, it would be awful. My unanswered prayers were for the best and we only realize it in retrospect.

God moved in me to make the decision that I made for a reason. It was due time, really. And though it pains me to see that the result of it hurt someone close to me, I have to trust that it is ultimately for the best for both of us. Naturally I want to be a friend, I want to comfort, I want to say that "it will all be ok," but that is no longer my place. And in such situations, no matter how much you consider the emotions of the other, no matter how much tact and sensitivity you try to utilize when approaching it, it is always going to be messy. It goes with the territory.

And this is why faith is so important. It is what gives me hope. I trust that a power greater and wiser than myself is guiding me through it all. And if I am listening to Him and truly understand what I must do, then I know it will be alright in the end. Often times (or is it every time?) doing the right thing is the hardest to do; making the right decision is the hardest decision of all. And I definitely had to make a hard decision. So I know it was the right one.

korean.

So, I have been taking Korean lessons for about 2 weeks now. It was kind of something I decided to do on a whim. I have taken Korean lessons once before but only for a brief period of time. This time around has been much better. My reading and comprehension has improved exponentially. And though starting out there was no real passion to learn Korean again, slowly I have rekindled a fire within me for it. And not just the Korean language, but all things Korean.

I hadn't realized the gravity of it all when I decided to learn Korean again. Now I see it is so much more then learning how to speak Korean. This is about preserving my Korean identity. And being Korean is more than just ethnicity. To be Korean, there has to be something that is an outward expression of that ethnic groups identity. We can distinguish a Frenchman from a German by language, social ideologies/ culture norms, religion, etc. I mean, this is how we were able to group the French and German people to begin with. Mapping genetic trends in different ethnic groups came after (way after). So to be Korean, I think, is an individual that displays and observes Korean culture (way of thinking, mannerisms, language, food, writing, holidays, etc). It all play an important role in Korean identity. I think that an Anglo-Saxon descended individual born and living in Korea, practicing all these identity factors, is more "Korean" than a 2nd generation ethnically Korean person born in America who doesn't know anything about his ethnic culture.

I could go on and on about what I think a Korean person is or isn't but that is really beside the point right now. The point is that the Korean identity is a part of my identity. It is who and what I am. It cannot be ignored nor overlooked. And for me to let it slip away from me is letting a big part of who am be lost forever. To know my Korean culture is to know a big part of me. And I am starting to see that those in the past who I have never been able to share that with because either I never felt I could reveal that part of me, or they never asked me about it, didn't really know me.
And its not their fault. I do not blame them for not knowing this part of me. We open different parts of ourselves to different people, in different amounts, different ways, as it naturally comes. So I have no grudge or ill-will toward anyone. All this has only made me aware that my Korean identity is a deep and personal part of me.

I am thankful that I have been put in a situation where I am rediscovering this part of me. Glory. And I am also so thankful for those who have been just as passionate as I am about learning all things Korean with me.

^_^

wrestling the atlantic.

The Atlantic is an awesome force. It is so different than the Gulf, which tends to be more calmer waters. The Atlantic ebbs and flows, twists and turns, swells and crashes. Swimming in it is exhilarating. The waves are so powerful it tosses my body with ease; you realize how helpless we are against the forces of nature.

I see those waves and think, "I want to swim against the waves." I'm sure this is what most guys would think. We see a mountain, we want to climb it and reach the top. It is interesting, really. There is something about being a man. I don't know if it is that we want to "conquer" nature, or just absorb its power, being a part of it--maybe its both. Being able to fair against these forces gives me the feeling that I deserved to be a part of nature, that I had what it takes to earn my keep in this existence.

I went against the waves to test myself (as well as have fun). There is a mutual respect, between the Atlantic and I. I want it to teach me something about it and about myself. What am I capable of? Courage is either a divine gift or a beautiful flaw. And so for the past couple of days, it was me and the Atlantic.

Its waves would crash and push me back onto shore, not letting me enter the deep. But then as if to mock me, its undertow would pull me in again. So I plant my feet into the sand to find stability.

Crash.

I sway like a branch in the wind but I hold my ground. I fight the current and make steps forward.

Crash.

Swim. The current only will swipe me off my feet. I see the next swell. Dive into it.

Crash.

I dove under the palm of the wave and pull myself through the water and emerge behind it. I look back and I see the wave fade into the shore.

The next wave, bigger than the first comes for me. It comes.

Closer.

Swelling and roaring.

Closer.

I dive under it.

Crash.

Again I emerge behind it and see it fade into shore. The waves kept coming, but further and further I swam.

slow weekend.

Fridays tend to be just as busy as any other day of the week. But this Friday was a little slower than usual. I was able to end the day with coffee with a close friend. We try to meet at least every two weeks or so. And since he was leaving for Chicago for break, I was especially glad to see him.

We always have the most interesting conversation about life, film, the German language, and faith with him, among other things. He keeps me sharp which I am grateful for. Along with being able to have great conversation, he usually does well to keep me formed of local performances. He told me that the Auburn Community Orchestra and Auburn University Concert Choir were performing at a local high school. They performed Mendelssohn's "Reformation" and Prokofiev's "Alexander Nevsky." The Prokofiev piece was amazing. I am usually partial to German composers but the type of music that Russian composers write doesn't compare. It's at a completely different level. The music they write have dark and brooding themes that cut into you, pierces you. It grabs your soul. The rush I felt from those dissonant melodies were euphoric. I love feeling music.

The night sky was beautiful Saturday after the concert. I enjoy the stillness of the night. Sometimes I just stand under the night sky looking up at stars and just zone out. The darkness gives life mystery.

This weekend was good. And tonight (Sunday) I'm just in thought, really. I feel the sleep whispering in my ear. I think I better get ready for bed.

nothing special about today.

This is probably the first time I've written without a point to make. But maybe some point will come out. Today was in one word, beautiful. It is getting warmer and the sun on my skin feels amazing. Today I'll try to read and write since I don't have much time to do such things, these days.

But I think about so much even when I am busy. My mind doesn't know how to wind down. I've been thinking a lot about the world. I've always loved the world; the diversity of it. I long to see the world. I remember times when I would think how cool it would be to be a nomad. Live on a train. Backpack. Just go.

Go.

Its bizarre how just saying it floods my soul with hopes and dreams.

Go.

The places I would see, the people I would meet, the stories I would share, the foods I would eat, the languages I would hear. This world is so big how could one just not want to see it all? How can you not want it all?

Reminiscing Central Park....

mystery of it all.

It is hard to really put to words where I am right now. I am in this place. Well, not even a place. I am in transit. I am moving. We forget that life is a journey. It is a journey with winding roads, high peaks and low valleys. I suppose I have been standing still, really. I became stagnant and grew stale. I haven't been moving forward. But God knows my troubles, my thoughts, my dreams, my passions. And He has shaken the ground beneath me, forcing me to move forward. He has been setting something in motion for me.

The past couple of days I once again realized how big God is. We use analogies like "Father" to help us grasp what and who He is. But we can't truly comprehend His grandeur. He is mysterious. I do believe that he does want us to know Him. But because He is so big, our human minds cannot possibly grasp him mentally. So we have to seek Him, trust Him, and have faith in Him. What our minds cannot do, He gives us so much to compensate. Because the point is not to one day fully understand him. It is to always seek him. Always question even if there is no answer.

So here I am. In wonder of Him once more. He has stirred something in me and pushing me forward. To where? But he sustains my heart and soul. I am scared because I don't know what the outcome is. But yet, I also feel joy. I have faith and hope that what is to come is for the best. I have let go and learned to trust.

I am learning not to be anxious.

Reading Suite Française by Irène Némirovsky

Listening to "Field Below" by Regina Spektor

froeh weihnachten.

Germany -it's a country where we adopted a good deal of our Christmas traditions. And I got to experience a German Christmas first hand. As far as Christmas goes, Germany and the States have many similarities, along with many differences. I really can't say one is better than the other. I can only acknowledge that it was a different and new experience. It is interesting that I was in a situation in which I could experience a tradition, which I am very familiar with, in a whole new way. We think of Christmas and we have memories and instances that direct us in how Christmas is done. And, as it goes, we accept that Christmas is done that way, and that way only. Well, what of a German Christmas? A German Christmas in Hessen? Christmas is not as universal as we my assume. In fact, it is cultural.

It all starts on Christmas Eve. It is when immediate family come together and exchange gifts over wine, chocolates, and danish cookies. The mood is pleasant, lights are dim, choral music in background, small talk and laughter fill the air. Certainly a far cry to what I am used to at my family's Christmas. We have exchanging of gifts and Christmas dinner on the same day, and after eating the groups of split into different parts of the house. The women congregate and talk, the men watch football, and the children play with their new gifts. For us, Christmas is one day. One single day where all of Christendom celebrates the birth of the Savior. Memorial Day, MLK Day, and President's Day are all a one day occasion. And they represent important people and occurrences in our history but when it is supposed to be the celebration of our Savior, the savior of the world, how can we possibly fit that in one day? In Germany, it is a three day celebration. It is a time to be with family, wind down, and reflect--the simple things. The Germans like the simple things--things I feel our [American] culture overlooks. At least I have that sentiment with my family. And even if the German people don't appreciate as much as I would like to believe, at least culture and social norms allow the holiday to feel like it is at time to wind down and really observe its purpose.

Since lunch is the biggest meal of the day, it is when Christmas "dinner" is served. On Christmas, the immediate family will gather for stewed red cabbage, kloesse (potato dumplings) stuffing and of course, a big bird. Traditionally, it would be goose, but now, with the influence of America, I'm sure, it is turkey. My first impression was, "why isn't this Christmas dinner--THE Christmas dinner--not as grandiose as it is back home, with food lined up from one end of the table to the other?" Of course, because they have three days to wine and dine. Their holiday does not rest on one day, one meal. This meal is only one of many that will be served throughout the day. So I sit there, eating with my family and toasting with Franken wine to us; to being together. This laid back holiday is one that I could get used to. It was as if time was of no consequence. And it dawned on me, this is comfort.

That evening it was up to Oma and Opa's house (they lived on the second floor of the house) for coffee and cakes. I could tell that Oma was made to host and please. After all, all of her children and grandchildren were going to be there and what wouldn't make any old lady proud then to have her home filled with jewels of her existence. The coffee was full bodied, the desserts were rich, and again I felt this comfort once more. I see all the brothers and sisters, cousins and grandchildren all together. All of them, their lives, their existence, was made possible by Oma and Opa. And where were they as we all sat eating and drinking coffee? Why, they were leaning on a table that was against the wall, not a part of the main, watching with smiles intense with pride and love.

I could literally go on and on about my time in Germany. I could tell you about every exchange I had, every sight I saw, I could tell you about every impression I had of Deutschland. But the one impression that I had that really struck a chord in me was this: It didn't feel like Christmas. But wait. How can that be? Was the turkey not the way momma used to make it? Was the the Gluehwein? Was it the presents? How could this experience which I enjoyed and indulged myself with not culminate with the overhwelming feeling and warmth of Christmas? Well, it was Christmas in every way, shape, and form. I experienced every little bit of warm and kindness a body could ask for in a foreign land. But I think of back home. I think about my family there, my friends. I think about the traditions that I cherish and look forward to every year for that one moment. I think of my Christmas culture. A Christmas that is my own. It is more than just how many days off you get, or what you receive. It have come to realize Christmas is sharing a little bit of yourself, of your own culture to those around you. And I see that that was what my Aunt and Uncle were doing. They weren't necessarily giving me a "German" Christmas. They were giving me their Christmas.