palace pena, portugal

When you visit Portugal, you absolutely cannot miss out on the historical town Sintra. I spent all day roaming the streets and visiting two of the many castles in the municipality. My favorite site was the colorful Palace Pena, which was once a crumbling monastery that now boldly sits on top of the hill, Serra de Sintra, overlooking the town. In 1838, King Ferdinand II bought the property and built the castle as his summer residence. The architecture is stunning, the colors are vibrant and the price is reasonable. I will have more info and pictures to follow, but for now, I wanted to share with you my favorite picture of the day. This little alcove on the side of the palace is the entryway to the chapel built for the royal family.

Lil' Chapel

Palace Pena

fasnacht celebration: i was warned to stay away, so of course i went

At the end of fall, many Europeans celebrate the new spring by "sweeping away" the evil spirits of the winter with the celebration of Fasnacht, which translates to "almost night" and in certain areas, it is also referred to as Carnival. So every February, towns, cities and villages alike host huge parades with outrageous costumes, including witches to do the sweeping (usually worn by men), pretzels, candy, music and lots and lots of confetti.  

Everyone comes out to admire the elaborate costumes and enjoy an afternoon of utter chaos. Apparently, the Fasnacht celebration in my village is the last one of the year, so people from all over Germany and Switzerland gather for one last hoorah and it was amazing. It was an outrageous time that I would characterize as a production rather than just a parade by American standards.

When the Fasnacht parade came to my little village in Büsingen, Germany, I was warned of all the hazards if I attended and watched from the street level. During the parade, personal boundaries no longer exist, and the people in costumes will pick up onlookers and carry them away, rub confetti in their hair, steal shoes, scarves and hats --rules are tossed out and everything goes. Of course, this only peaked my curiosity and I found myself up front and center for the entire 3 hours, and I did not walk away unscathed. I have a couple hundred photos and videos from the entire day, but I thought I would share a brilliant photo essay of the ridiculousness that was. All in all, such a good time. If you find yourself in Europe during this time, you can't miss out on this experience.

Involuntary face canvas: check.

Hair tie stolen: check.

Yes, yes that is hay that they rubbed into my hair.

As I mentioned before, personal boundaries are non existant. "Oh I have never met you before? Sure go ahead and do what you think is best with that confetti."

This was one of the more tame and gentle interactions. 

It rained minutes after the parade ended, some of that confetti is still on the sidewalks.

Used and abused.

All photos and videos are courtesy of GINA POTTENGER!

a picnic in the alps

A couple of weekends ago, a group of us from the office decided to take advantage of the uncharacteristically warm spring days and ventured out into Switzerland for a picnic. We ended up at Mount Säntis, 2,509 meters above sea level, the tallest mountain in Northeastern Switzerland and a place known for being extraordinarily cold.  It was so cold in fact, that we could do little more than eat standing up out of the trunk of the van. All in all, it was a pretty fantastic day. And of course it was just my luck to miss the mini avalanche that happened five minutes after I wandered off...with my camera...looking for something really awesome to capture...

uno in prishtina, kosovo

Yesterday I booked a ticket, and today I am in Prishtina, Kosovo. 

At the last minute, our communication's team decided to film a story for our next Global Missions DVD about a man and his spiritual journey in Kosovo to accompany an article the WWM editor is writing for the next issue.  So, we sent a few emails, checked a few prices and here I am.

As soon as I arrived, I was picked up and dropped off at the local church. With my backpack in hand, I walked in and was immediately greeted by a group of young adults laughing around the table playing Uno. As I sat down, they stopped in the middle of their game to reshuffle the deck and deal me in. With a few stumbles, I quickly picked up the rules, which are slightly different from how it is traditionally played in the States, and joined the game with enthusiasm as everyone kept forcing me to pick up everything from a +2 to +16 cards in between all the "skips," "reverses" and constant laughter. I was told repeatedly, "When we are mean to you, it means we like you." In response, I replied, "Reminds me of home." And they did in fact remind me of my slightly crazy and very much missed friends 6,000+ miles away. 

Afterwards, my host family and I walked across the city, where they so wonderfully opened up their home to me, providing food and a great discussion about One Direction vs The Wanted and paintball injuries along the way. 

Tomorrow is the first day of filming and I cannot wait to get started!

Waiting at the Schaffhausen Bahnhof for my train to the Zurich flughafen (airport).

First night in Prishtina, and I get a view of the city.

Prishtina is the capital of Kosovo, which is located in southeastern Europe, and has a very violent past fraught with severe ethnic tensions between the Albanian and Serb populations.

The inter-ethnic violence came to a head in 1999 during the Kosovo War. As a result the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia, relinquished governance over the land and the United Nations, stepped into the vacuum and took over the territory, allowing Kosovo to remain a sovereign nation.


Kosovo, is a self declared independent state that is now partially recognized as the Republic of Kosovo. Serbia stills holds considerable influence in the northern region, and they do not recognize the unilateral secession, and instead consider the UN governed providence within their sovereign territory. In fact, you cannot enter Serbia via Kosovo.

Today, Kosovo is a war-ravaged country pulling itself together while still confronting border clashes with Serbia and ethnic violence.

a photo shoot in Germany's France

Over the Christmas break and New Years ('11-'12), my much adored friend, Sarah Carvalho, came to visit and during that stay we journeyed to Strasbourg, France (near the German boarder) where we fell in love with everything the city had to offer, including the wonderful photo ops at night. We especially loved getting lost and wondering down the twisted alleyways. Below are a few pictures of the less-traveled parts of Strasbourg.

  

while i may not speak the language fluently, i know enough to know you are talking about me

Today, I ventured over to the Swiss grocery store, Migros, to return a can of lentils and deodorant. It was my first attempt to return an item in Switzerland, and I was a bit nervous because I didn't know all the vocabulary I needed, and I wasn't sure what the return policies are at grocery stores in Europe. However, I was determined to take on the challenge because in a rush yesterday, I reluctantly bought an over-priced can of lentils that I didn't notice also had ham until I got home (I am a vegetarian), and I also broke down and purchased an equally over-priced deodorant, which I found for two euros less at a German store. As a volunteer, I need every frank and euro I can get.

So I walked into Migros, approached the info desk and used the non conjugated verb "to return" with an implied question make at the end as I handed the clerk the receipt and waited. After a curious glance in my direction she walked over to the intercom and asked for another employee to approach the counter. She then explained to me (in German) that while the deodorant is okay, they do not accept returned groceries, but she was going to make an acceptation because I had just bought it the day before. Since my nerves were already a bit rattled coming into the situation, I couldn't immediately recall any of my German, so I just apologized and nodded my head to convey I understood.

Then as an older lady approached wearing the signature Migros's red vest, I had this premonition, this gut reaction, that things were about take a turn for the worst. As she stepped up beside me and reached for the items on the counter, for a brief moment, I thought perhaps I was wrong and she was only going to collect the groceries to return the shelves without a word --I should have trusted my first instinct.

She picked up the lentils, turned to me and repeated that they don't accept returned groceries (and in my retelling, she had a very haughty tone). As she diligently checked the can, she asked why I was returning it.  I still could not coherently express anything as my mind was drawing up blanks on all the German I had learned; at this point, I was only capable of "sorry," "please "and "thank you." So as I paused to think of what to say and how to say it, she repeated herself again until she understood that I didn't speak German well. And honestly, since the older lady approached, I was too tongue tied to say anything, so she hadn't heard me speak a word --only nod to show I understood.

As my lack of German skills became apparent, she looked at me and said, "You must speak English," which I in turn confirmed. She then turned to her Migros cohort repeating the statement. They then proceeded to ignore me as they ranted about me (in German) how I don't understand what they are saying and complaining about English speakers, and they had the gall to laugh. While I obviously couldn't recite verbatim what they said, I knew enough vocabulary and grammar to understand what they were talking about, and I was affronted because it was just all around rude behavior.

I hope it was apparent that I was annoyed because if it is not clear, I was. Eventually, the woman behind the counter handed me cash, as the older lady sauntered off with my returned lentils. I walked away with a half-hearted smile, and, resorting back to my eighth-grade emotional capacities, without a "thank you" --apparently everyone present hit a low moment this morning.

On the way home, I shouted, "Ich verstehe," in the silence of my car --it wasn't until that moment, 10 minutes later, that my mind started functioning again and I remembered how to say, "I understand."

milchautomat: a hidden delight

While living in a small, rural town like Büsingen has its ups and downs, one definite advantage is the milchautomat that dispenses a pint of milch for two euros just five minutes from the main road! Now, I am not a fan of milk; I don't actually like milk unless it is eaten with cookies --preferably double-stuffed Oreos and even then only skim will suffice; in fact, I don't even buy it anymore since I switched to almond milk two years ago, but that doesn't lessen the overwhelming excitement I experience every time I pass the local-fresh-from-the-cow-in-the-backyard milk dispenser tucked away in my little village. If you didn't know what you were looking for, you would probably miss it out right.

So, when my friend, Sarah, came to visit, I of course, brought her to the coolest place in town, and lo and behold, we had to wait in line; I guess we weren't the only ones who could appreciate such a treasure. I really felt as though I was giving Sarah a taste of the local culture as no guide book could, and that I was beginning to blend in with the locals --well, until I posed for several pictures next to this cow's head as if to say, "Check out this guy. He looks used and abused." And as a permanent guard standing at attention over a machine that supplies fresh cow's milk 24/7, I would imagine he was. Perhaps the PR for the milchautomat is a bit lacking; however, I can't fault the owners, but maybe I will leave a post it next time and suggest a new mascot like a fox or camel --both of which are, respectively, emotionally removed from the entire situation and common fixtures in the area (another story for another time).

And of course, we had to pose once again after we filled up our container. It was certainly a moment that needed to be well documented. Once we were home, we heated up the milk right away and made two gigantic cups of authentic-swiss-hot chocolate. And while the amount of cream and the movement of the thick liquid made me gag a bit, and the end result wasn't anything spectacular, it was one of my top five favorite hot chocolates of all time because one essential ingredient came from my backyard in a steel box propped in a little wooden alcove in a neighbor's driveway as a haggard and slightly annoyed cow remains vigilant over the milchautomat, and for my askewed sensibilities, it doesn't get much better than that --only in Büsingen.