Lactation counseling had always been an interest of mine, something I'm passionate about and inspires me, so becoming certified was something I had really wanted to do...I could potentially offer lactation counseling services to other English speaking ex-pats here in Barcelona, many who are far away from their families and needing support. I had made some contacts here with midwives and doulas who had expressed a need for these kinds of services in the ex-pat community of Barcelona, and offered to include me on their monthly "pregnant mother meet-ups" and offer free advertising once I was certified. How perfect?! Things were falling into place, as I found a great week-long certification training program, based out of -- get this -- Sandwich MA (about 5 miles from where I grew up), that was coming to Landstuhl, Germany late in June. A 2-hour flight away into Frankfurt? I can do this! This seemed exciting, but at the same time, completely unrealistic...how was I going to travel for a week? Who will watch the kids? Can I even stomach a whole week away from them? I had never left them that long, and especially not to travel to another country alone. But Chris was completely amazing and insisted he would make it happen. He insisted I needed the time away, the adventure of my own, and a place to feel like I was using my brain aside from the daily grind of diapers, dora, and dinkies.
So I booked it.
Prior to leaving, I had joined a facebook group offering information about the training and realized that Landstuhl, Germany is actually the site of a huge US Army base, with (I think) the largest US hospital outside our country. A group of mothers and nurses on base had come together to host the certification in Landstuhl. So, I knew I would be in for an interesting week -- I was staying off of the base, in a mom-and-pop bed and breakfast kind of hotel so I would be sure to get some real German flavor, but spending time on a US base would be all new to me too...as something told me I would be one of the few civilians attending this training.
I knew I had made the right decision to go, when I became more and more excited as the date approached, instead of more and more anxious. It felt really good to feel like this, as most mothers know there is a long period of time when it feels like your heart is tied with chicken wire to the heart of your children...it just isn't possible to leave, and your whole body will tell you this. But this day it felt right. More the right...actually... I changed my flight time from 6pm to 12noon so I could get the hell out of dodge sooner :) Let's just say, I was ready for a break from the every day, and I was extremely lucky that Chris would be home with them for the week I was gone, I knew they were in excellent hands. I *may* have gone a bit overboard with my lists, schedules, and directions to prepare him...but I think he appreciated it :)
The morning of, I woke up and headed out to the airport to catch my flight to Germany. The daughter-in-law of a retired commercial airline pilot, I had heard Lufthansa airlines couldn't be beat, so I decided to book a direct flight from BCN to Frankfurt to experience the wonder of Lufthansa...which also happened to be the cheapest flight!
The airport this day was a mad house, and after waiting in line for close to an hour to check my bag, I decided to just carry on my bag, get my boarding pass from the kiosk, and get going. I managed to shove the bag into the metal measuring thingy, so off I went through security to enjoy some down time and get out of the crowds. I sat, waiting for my flight, enjoying a cerveza and a bocadillo, smiling in anticipation for the week ahead. I could hardly decide what to do first...read...write...sit in silence...drink more...drink faster...Very odd to suddenly be completely in charge of how your time is spent!
Sadly, though, the rainbows and puppy dog portion of this entry stops here.
The bag police stopped me as I boarded, and asked me to kindly show them if my bag fit in the carry on metal measuring thing...with a whole line of folks staring, I tried, unsuccessfully, to reproduce my previous victory. Beads of sweat were forming, and the stewardess seemed impatient, so she grabbed my bag, shooed me on, and informed me "your bag will be waiting for you in Frankfurt". I knew then... my bag wouldn't be waiting for me in Frankfurt.
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| The Alps never cease to amaze as we fly over... |
The flight itself was uneventful, and I was excited to finally be in Germany when we landed -- I exited the plane into an airport full of pretzel vendors, boisterous men drinking huge beers, and a surprising amount of signs and billboards all in English. I got the rush of seeing a new place, and was super excited to find my shuttle and head over to my hotel to do some exploring around Landstuhl before dinner. Once again, my high was cut very short, when my initial instinct about my bag came true -- the bag carousel stopped, and my bag was no where to be found. After a very pleasant, but somewhat lengthy, exchange with the bag folks of Lufthansa, I was assured my bag would arrive either later this day or the next, and would be delivered to my hotel as soon as possible. Good enough, I could deal with another day in these clothes, plus, as a consolation they gave me a little bag of toiletries to hold me over. And an absurdly large white undershirt.
Unfortunately, by the time I finished with the bag folks, the shuttle I had arranged had already left the airport. I attempted to call them, but realized my phone service did not work in Germany for some reason, assuming it had to do with the roaming on a prepaid. Deep breath. Down to the train station I went. It seemed the further you got from the arrival gate, the English began to disappear, and the more confusing things became. I joined the cue of people at the Bahn station, and hoped this train would get me where I needed to go...quickly.
"I need to get to Landstuhl, please". Expecting this will be a quick, direct train clearly marked and leaving soon...
Next thing I know, the woman is handing me an itinerary that included three trains.
Frankfurt to Bad Kreuznach
Bad Kreuznach to Kaiserslautern
Kaiserslautern to Landstuhl
Total travel time, over 2 hours -- longer than it took me to get from Barcelona to Frankfurt!
"This is the most direct way to get there?" I asked. Indeed it was.
I didn't have many options, so I took it. I reminded myself, it is about the journey, not the destination. I was in no rush, I was here to experience and explore, so who cared how long it would take me?
Now, I could go on for days about the way the German train system is marked -- short version? It's not marked well--as least in the opinion of a non-German. I consider myself a fairly well traveled and savvy person, but I felt like a old lady tourist down there trying to determine if I was getting on the right rain. When a train arrives, it appeared they only have the first three stops it will make listed on the front of the train, and the conductors make themselves scarce when it is time to board. Plus, there are trains coming through every 10 minutes on the platform I needed to use, so I had to use the time it arrived as my guide to whether or not I was getting on the right train. Sketch.
Thankfully, the trains seem to be VERY punctual, so when a train pulled up exactly at the time it said on my ticket, I crossed my fingers and hopped on. The conductor came through, assured me I was headed in the right direction, and clipped my ticket. Exhale. I had an hour on this train, so I tried to do some reading, but I couldn't focus on anything, worried I was going to miss my stop. The announcements on board were only German, the signs were only German, so I was left to do a lot of piecing together. I was also noticing that the stations we were stopping at were not very well marked -- often with just one small sign showing the name of the stop, and I had to crane my neck to see it as we pulled in. Once again, I resigned myself to making sure the times lined up correctly to be sure I was getting off at the right stop. Next stop: Bad Kreuznach. Bad Kreuznach. Bad Kreuznach. Don't miss it.....
The stops were about 15 minutes apart, so when we pulled into Bad Munster with only 4 minutes left until my change, I started to doubt myself...this had to be it, right? They won't make another stop in 4 minutes in another town that happens to also start with "Bad"....right?....
Making a game time decision, I jumped off the train, and onto the freezing cold, RAINY platform. I should add here, that I was dressed for Barcelona sunshine -- a thin gauzy top, scarf, sandals, and short pants. No coat. Everyone around me was dressed for November with thick coats, jeans, and boots. No bueno.
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| Me, standing on the cold rainy platform as my train leaves behind me... |
Never mind the fact that as soon as I saw the train depart, I knew I shouldn't have gotten off. My ticket said I should get off on track 4 and pick up the next train on track 3...I had gotten off on track 3, and saw people only standing waiting on track 4. Hmmmm...maybe the name of the city AND the track were wrong....
Ignoring the little voice inside me that was screaming "YOUR IN THE WRONG PLACE A-HOLE", I held on to the last shred of hope that somehow this next train would get me where I needed to be. And honestly, at that point I didn't have much choice. On I hopped as the train pulled in at the time it said on my ticket. Happy to be warm and dry again, I settled into my seat, only to be faced with the frown of the conductor as he looked at my ticket. He slapped his forehead and shook his head at the same time when he saw my itinerary. I started laughing. I don't know why.
"Wrong train, huh?" I laughed.
This was all getting a little silly.
Thankfully, the conductor was super nice. He sat down, and with his iphone, pen and paper, and many minutes, mapped out a new itinerary for me making sure I understood exactly what to do...downside? It tacked another hour onto my travel time. But I was thankful for his help, and again reminded myself...it's about the journey...it's about the journey...
Two hours, three stops, and many miles later, I arrived in Landstuhl. Equally rainy, equally cold, and not a single cab in sight. That area of town (the train station) was not what I was expecting...very quiet, and not much to it. There were three groups of people looking for cabs, and after witnessing their battle over the one cab that came into the station, I decided to hang back and avoid the battle. It was a train station, another cab had to come at some point...Just as I was starting to realize I needed to figure out a plan B, I saw a cab coming around the bend, and hopped in.
I have never been so happy to arrive anywhere in my life. It was now 8:30pm, almost 5 hours after I had landed in Frankfurt. After a salad, and two glasses of wine served by a very nice German husband and wife team, I headed to my room keeping my fingers crossed my luggage would be waiting for me in the morning. I skyped Chris, sharing my crazy day, then lights out.
The first day of the training was wonderful -- I had met two other girls staying in the hotel that morning at breakfast, so it was nice to immediately have "roommates" of sorts, to share this experience together. The base was a short walk from our hotel, through a small wooded area and across the street. Landstul is incredibly beautiful -- very rural, green, with HUGE sprawling forests just like I expected. The base itself was fascinating to me. Lots of security, and once inside... you are suddenly in the US. It was crazy...all the US products, US restaurants, they only take US dollars, and sell gas by the gallon, not the liter. Schools, hospitals, malls...Also interesting that I couldn't really buy anything in the stores because I wasn't a military family member. Out of over 50 women at this training, there were only 3 of us civilians -- many were nurses, some doctors, midwives, PAs, doulas, and mothers living and working on base. Fascinating girls, and equally fascinating instructors who lead the course. Exactly the women I would hope to be some day :)
The first day ended, and although I was pretty excited about how the first day had gone, I was anxious to get home and get my clean clothes! I practically ran through the door of the hotel to find the owner who only shook his head when I asked about my luggage. Nothing. Ok, cue the tears.
I can handle a day of lost luggage, missed shuttles, wrong trains, cold weather, and no cabs...What I can't handle is a week in the same clothes, no make up, and no hair dryer. Sorry, if this makes me shallow, so be it. After venting to Chris via skype who very nicely got the Lufthansa manager on the line, we discovered my luggage was not so much in Barcelona OR Frankfurt...but rather, Mallorca. A tiny island off the coast of Spain. How it got there, I will never know. But it was expected that my luggage would arrive sometime the next day on Tuesday.
Sadly, that night there was a big get together with all the girls from the training in the hotel lobby for dinner and drinks, but I had to pass...I had to get some stuff to feel somewhat presentable for the next day. I had assumed there would be something somewhat close by in terms of clothing stores, and so I asked the owner of the hotel if he would be able to call a cab for me to go to a place for some clothes...after much deliberation, he nodded knowingly.
"Kaufmans. Yes, Kaufmans will have what you need."
I sadly walked by the crew of women eating and drinking to head outside and wait for my cab to take me to this magical place, Kaufmans.
When I pulled up, I started laughing again.
I was at Wal-Mart.
Except, at Wal-Mart, there are entire sections of clothes: Men, Women, Children, Baby...hell, they even have Maternity clothes and uniforms! Here? ONE AISILE of clothes for all. They had more garden tools then clothes here. And you can't so much see the clothes you wish to buy...no, they are in little plastic bags with pictures of someone wearing them on the front, like a Halloween costume. After trying to rationalize whether or not this would be an improvement over the the shirt I had been wearing for two days, I finally put my money on this one (matching headpiece not included):
I also added some conditioner, a tiny hairdryer, and pressed powder to the mix...I was now living large! With enough time left for a much needed beer, I settled in at the Kaufman cafe, had a pretzel and beer, and basically laughed to myself about this entire situation as I people watched. I was really seeing the local color, and who said vacations had to be all museums and monuments? This stuff adds character too I think.
I'm happy to say the rest of the week was uneventful in comparison. The following day, sporting my new Langarmshirt, I had another great day learning, talking, and exploring and came home that night to my suitcase waiting outside my hotel room!
The rest of the week was filled with long dinners in and around the German side of Landstul, chatting with new friends, drinking great beer, eating local food, unexpectedly learning about life in the military, and most importantly -- learning everything you ever wanted to know about breastfeeding. I had so many inspiring conversations with women from all kinds of backgrounds. I had Subway for lunch :) At the end of the week, we took our exams, and find out our results in about 8 weeks, keeping my fingers crossed I am now a Certified Lactation Counselor. Sadly, I did not get enough pictures, and am keeping my fingers crossed my Pfeffermuele ladies will send along theirs sometime so I have some more memories of this fantastic week.
In short, the week was really everything I had hoped it would be -- personally and professionally inspiring. A change from the every day. And an adventure.
I came home, bursting to see my babies and Chris, and was even happier to find out Chris totally loved his change of pace too.
Just could have done without the Bad Munster :)
