After a busy July, we stayed close to home most of August to enjoy the lazy days of summer. Since I’m usually so anxious to get of town to see more of Europe, it was kind of nice to hang around Basel and to take advantage of all the local attractions.
Basel feels calm and laidback during the summer. People appear happier and more relaxed. I even noticed more smiles and “Guten Tags” around town (maybe those were all the foreigners). Even with the mellow feel throughout the city, excitement still managed to fill the air. The Swiss love having reasons to get out and celebrate. In August alone there were so many festivals and activities, we could barely fit them all in. One of my favorites was the annual Rhine Swim. On a daily basis you can catch people swimming in the Rhine. But on this particular day of the year, hundreds of people jump in around the same time to enjoy the water together. It’s quite a sight to see (especially if you can catch a glimpse of people mooning you as they float by). Larry was crushed that I wouldn’t let him join in the festivities. Call me crazy, but letting a child drift down the Rhine with boats and hundreds of people bobbing alongside (or possibly on top of) him doesn’t exactly sound safe.
Larry was somewhat appeased when Ken took him for a little swim in the Rhine a few weeks later. They found a small quiet beach with some friends and hopped in, letting the current whisk them away. The boys floated down a few yards to a point where they could easily get out of the water and walk back to the beach to repeat the process over and over again. Larry returned home excited and proud of his achievement. Never mind that he came back with a five-inch long cut down his hand!
I would have scolded Ken for Larry’s injury, only I remembered that I nearly let my daughter drown the week before. It happened when I took the kids out for a picnic and an impromptu swim in another local river. Although this place is much narrower and gentler than the Rhine, there is still a current that can swoop small children off their feet. Nina demonstrated this perfectly when she lost her footing and fell. She clung onto a rock while I stood there oblivious to her struggle. “Larry, help your sister” I said as I clicked away with my camera. Nina eventually got up, but she came over to me in hysterics. “I saw my whole life flash before my eyes!” Oops. I guess you can’t assume anything’s safe around here just because everyone else is happily frolicking away in the water.
That brings me to the topic of Swiss safety standards. They’re low - very low. People here take responsibility for their own actions. That means whether you decide to jump in the Rhine or go sledding down a steep mountain with dangerous fenceless drop-offs, you do so at your own risk. There are usually no warning signs or postings prohibiting you from engaging in death-defying activities. I’m a bit torn about this attitude. On the one hand I do love that the Swiss are not a highly litigious society, on the other, I’m always a bit nervous when my kids are enjoying these freedoms. As a parent you can never be certain that your children will be safe. For example, most pools don’t have lifeguards. Larry and Nina love that no one yells at them when they’re running on the wet pavement or pig piling down the waterslide with their group of friends. But I’m not so thrilled. There are also toys that could take your eye out (like the crossbow dart game below), playground equipment that would have American tort lawyers jumping for joy, and lots of other ways to put gray hairs on a mother’s head. Parents definitely have to be on their toes here.
With the hot summer days, it was impossible to avoid the dangers of swimming. So despite the general lack of Badmeisters (lifeguards), we took our chances and enjoyed some refreshing water time. Europeans love their pools. Our area has over 19 public swimming facilities. Many of these places have multiple pools: one for laps, one for diving, one for slides and sometimes another area just for small children. Then there are the other amenities: restaurants, snack bars (where the chicken nuggets are served on real china), volleyball courts, soccer fields, ping pong tables, playgrounds. It’s enough to make one’s head spin. On our first trip to the local St. Jakob pool, I didn’t know where to focus my attention. Then I saw something that still burns my eyes – a leathery tanned man in a G-string. This wrinkly gray-haired svelte senior proudly struts around in his skimpy suit without a care in the world. I found it hard to divert my eyes in the beginning. After a few trips to the pool, however, I finally got used to him. I even gave the guy a name. Now it just wouldn’t be a day at St. Jakob without seeing “Crazy Fritz” in all his glory. I’m starting to feel like a real local…
I finally accompanied Ken and the kids to another favorite swimming spot – Laguna Badland in Germany. Nina insisted on going there with some friends for her birthday, so I knew I couldn’t avoid a visit. For a kid (and the less squeamish adult), Laguna is a swimming paradise. The kids got a taste of this place in January (see that month’s blog entry), but I wisely bowed out back then. This time I wasn’t so lucky. I joined the hoards of other people on a hot Saturday afternoon and went in the wave pool and down the crazy slides. I’ll admit it was all fun. The place is enormous and full of exciting water attractions. If it weren’t for the crowds and for the cockroaches in the locker room, I might actually go back. At least that’s what I thought until I was approached by a large hairy man who kept trying to talk to me in French and German.
I think we all know by now that I’m no ace with languages. With the splashing water and the happy screams in the background, I could barely make out what the person was trying to say to me. I heard something about a sauna and nodded my head, then pointed to a door with the assumption that he was asking for directions. When the man wouldn’t leave, I got a bit suspicious. He kept talking animatedly in German and French. I responded with a lot of “oui’s” and “ja’s” trying to cover both bases, but hoping he would just go away. Finally, when the guy reached for my arm I realized that he was trying to get me to go in the sauna with him. With all my nodding I was probably leading him on! Only I could mess up with language that badly - again (and again, and again...).
Just to show you that language issues can also affect the linguistically gifted, I will share one of my husband's own moments of confusion. The other day as Ken was opening the mail, I could hear him mumbling under his breath. I sensed a little stress in the air from whatever it was that he was reading. Silence followed and I braced myself for the bad news. A few minutes later I heard a huge sigh of relief followed by a chuckle. Being new to living in Europe and still not entirely familiar with the language, Ken mistook a legal advertisement for an actual letter. When you get a notice in German that says you owe thousands of dollars due to an accident, I can imagine that your mind starts racing as you try to recall what you did to receive such a bill. Naturally, we can recognize those kinds of advertisements back home in the U.S. But here it was so unexpected (especially since the Swiss are not typically big on lawsuits). And to be honest, the way Ken drives, it’s not beyond reason that he would be in some kind of car-related trouble. Now we know that even Europeans must deal with junk mail and ambulance chasers.
In addition to all the fun water time, the kids had a chance to engage in some educational activities over the summer. One weekend we went to the Ecomusée in France where Nina was relieved to discover that the place is a recreation of a 17th century Alsatian village (much like Williamsburg, Virginia), not a museum dedicated to echoes. Given that we’ve already been to a French fry museum and a chocolate museum, I could hardly call her assumption ludicrous. Ken informed me that there’s also a museum somewhere in Germany dedicated entirely to currywurst. (That would be hot dogs covered in ketchup sauce and curry powder. Yummy, yes. But museum worthy?!) There are lots of other strange attractions in Europe: the phallus museum (Iceland), the wallpaper museum (France), the corkscrew museum (France, of course), the dog collar museum (UK), the lawnmower museum (UK) and the asparagus museum (Germany) are just a few. In some ways it feels just like being in America. Now where can we find Europe’s largest ball of yarn?
Part of our educational outings included a trip to the Roman Festival held at the ruins near Basel. The kids were fascinated with the fair’s depiction of the life and culture of the ancient Romans. Larry, Nina, and their friends ground wheat into flour, hammered their own coins, made mosaics and blew traditional horns that could easily poke your eye out. Apparently the gladiator fights weren’t real enough to hold their attention. Afterwards we needed to offset the kids' disappointment with some authentic Roman soft serve ice cream and Diet Coke.
As if life couldn’t get any better, Nina got to go on a pony during the festival. Riding around on her little horse, she looked like she had just won the lottery. I earned “Best Mommy in the World” title and numerous hugs and kisses for allowing her that one small pleasure. I was on my way to earning "parent of the year." Until…
As a last summer hurrah, we took the kids to an amusement park in Germany called Europa Park. Larry and Nina were bursting with excitement all day long. The rides were fun, the food was good and the weather was perfect. Ken and I only screwed up twice during our entire 9½ hours at the park. First, we went on a pirate ride that looked harmless enough from the outside. It turned out to be dark, scary, and loud – all the things our daughter hates. Nina was terrified. She didn’t fail to mention several times that we “are the worst parents in the world.” Oh how the mighty have fallen.
Later, against Ken’s wise objections, I decided to let the kids play some carnival games. I know that these types of amusements are designed to rip people off. But kids usually stand some small chance of winning, don’t they? Well, not here. Europeans don’t coddle children when it comes to games or sports. Even diversions that are designed for kids can be impossibly challenging (Miniature golf is another good example. Although in Germany it’s actually an adult competitive sport!). As if the difficulty level weren’t high enough, Europa Park adds a 30-second timer to increase the pressure and frustration. Nina was so distraught when she realized she only had 10 seconds left to catch a floating ducky that she threw her fishing pole down and walked away in tears.
We recovered from the second traumatic moment after a few hugs and my pleading, “Remember the pony ride! Surely I get make-up points for the pony.” It worked. But I’m not sure how much more credit she’ll give me for that one. Like I told Ken, as a parent you’re only as good as your last deed. Festivals, pools, theme parks, a summer of traveling around Europe – it’s all quickly forgotten. Luckily I have plenty of photos and a blog to hold against the kids when they’re older!
EXCERPTS FROM NINA’S JOURNAL:
We went to a Roman festival. There were mosaics, weaving and so much more to see and do. When Larry took an early leave you would never guess [what] mommy gave me. A pony ride!!!!!!!!!! It was amazing!!! August 29, 2009
Today I went to the biggest amusement park in the whole of Europe!!!! Mom and dad took us to a ride and mom said it was nice, calm, outside, unscary and bright. And she was WRONG. It was scary, dark, inside, and crazy!
August 30, 2009
EXCERPT FROM LARRY’S JOURNAL
Today I went to Europa Park. There was a ride called the Supersplash…It was mega, ultra, super fast…The water hit me in the face. I was soaking wet. After that I was extremely awesomed out. I wanted to do it 50 times more. But I couldn’t. It was extremely awesome. August 30, 2009
Extremely awesome post! The only thing that could have made it better is a photo of Crazy Fritz.
Posted by: Michael Sippey | 09/01/2009 at 06:29 PM