Tourist Frustrations

I generally tend to avoid typical touristy things when I travel. But, here in Europe, you have to see Checkpoint Charlie when you go to Berlin, and it is basically a requirement to get a picture in front of the famous Hofbrahaus in Munich or Big Ben in London. It’s simply what you do.

Kodak moments are commonplace in a continent with such storied and famous history.

Yet, when you travel alone, capturing Kodak moments can be a blood-boiling ordeal.

In my recent adventures, I’ve been alone, but gave in to the urge to have my picture taken in front of a few famous landmarks. To accomplish this mission, I usually tried to spot the tourists with nice DSLR cameras to ensure that I will get a decent product.

The problem is that tourists, with a $1200 camera or a $150 camera, are the worst photographers ever.

My pictures prove it.



Here, I was standing on a suspension bridge in front of the most recognizable castle in the world (Neuschwanstein Castle). You can hardly see the castle, but my bright blonde head is surely a sight to behold. After the lady took my picture, I looked to see the result and in shock, I exclaimed, “The castle, lady!” while pointing with outstretched arms to the reason I was standing on the bridge with her and two hundred other people.



After hiking up a mountain for five hours in the Bavarian Alps, I finally reached a minor plateau and stopped to take in the overwhelming beauty. A middle-aged couple sauntered over and I politely asked them to take my picture in front of the majestic landscape. The man took my picture, but somehow decided to cut off the tops of the pristine, snow-capped mountains and compose the shot like I was a leper spreading the plague! I am still in disbelief just looking at it.

This is from a few years ago from when one of my brothers and I traveled in Peru. It's not Europe, but I always think of it whenever tourists take pictures of me that completely miss the point. It's crooked, blurry, and the beautiful Church behind us is completely unrecognizable.

Do tourists not understand why I ask them to take a picture? Is it too hard to understand that if I ask you to take a picture, I only want two things in it; me and a decent attempt to capture the reason why I am paying $20 to be hoarded around like a goat with dozens of other people who seem to like being hoarded goats.

For pete's sake, can I at least get a picture worthy of a facebook profile?!

Corn Dreams

There are cornfields near my apartment. In fact, there are cornfields in a lot of places near where I live.

At first, I had no idea that I was surrounded by lots of cornfields. I just knew I was surrounded by fields that silently painted tranquil beauty.

But now, there is plenty of corn.

It has been remarkable to witness the constant transformation of an agricultural landscape. Each week, there is noticeable change. You can actually feel it. When I go on a run, or drive my car, or ride my bike, I sense the change. I soak in the new beauty with each and every change.

The stalks are higher this week. The leaves are taking shape. The golden wheat has been cut and harvested. The soil has been tilled.

It is remarkable.

And, it is not like Kansas. No offense to people who live in Kansas, but Jayhawk fields aren’t nearly as stunning as Rhineland fields. Kansas has vast tracts of never ending cornfields. Where I live, the plants vary and the fields are smaller. Groves of trees and rolling hills give perspective, and the color combination of golden wheat, vibrant green stalks and fresh brown soil truly stirs the heart.

I never thought I’d say it, but I think it is good to live by cornfields.

And, in a couple of weeks, I think the corn may help me fulfill a childhood dream.

I’ve always wanted to run through the rows of cornfields like kids do in movies. Run and run and run. And then, lay down to catch my breath and be enveloped by giant stalks of corn and a sliver of blue sky. Then, run and run and run again.

Now, the corn is about four feet high. I’m hoping it will grow to six in a few more weeks. Then, I can run into a row and not look back. I can be hidden for a while in the midst of the cornfields of my new hometown.

Silent

I’ve been attempting to write a blog post for several days. It has been frustrating because I feel like I’ve lost my vibe and I feel like my words echo in vacant recesses.

They echo and the sound that returns isn’t pleasant.

It’s not that my inspiration is gone; Germany is still wonderfully new and I’ve recently traveled to Berlin, the Alps, and Vienna. But to share inspiration, you need words. And words, powerful as they are, sometimes aren’t enough to describe anything at all.

Sometimes a lingering silence is all that is actually enough.

So, I’ve been silent for a while. But, I hope to find my vibe and some suitable words soon.

Until then, I encourage you to take a moment and listen to your own silence. I’m sure it has a powerful story to share.