Deutschland maternics

Garmisch is lovelier than I remember. Or perhaps it's that my sister has created such a life for herself over the last two years. She's got a little blue Volkswagon and has learned to drive stick. She lives with her girlfriend in the cleanest, quaintest dorm room I've ever seen. And then there's Mel, who is beautiful and kind and clearly loves her. They can't stop talking to each other. I imagine they sit in bars, surrounded by thousands of rowdy young people, and just chat with each other as if they're alone at a coffee shop. Maybe it's just the big sister in me, but that image fills me with a complete, stinging joy. Courtney has trouble trusting her relationships because of the habitually pounding waves of serious trouble and cold behavior we encountered (and welcomed at times) up until we left Tennessee. At several points during this trip and continuously now that I've met Mel, I wish I could wave a magic wand and Courtney would realize that constant peace and happiness doesn't mean that heartache and anger are right around the corner. Last night, we looked at a map of the world hanging on her wall and she pointed out all the places she's been. There are pictures and trinkets from places all over Europe and in Africa. Her life is based on hard work, friendship, and travel. I haven't spent much time around them, but my first impression is that Mel is completely attentive to her and actively cares about how she feels. Yet Courtney is often afraid.

If I ever have children, I pray I'll remember that these tiny things, these implants that won't let people be too happy or too relaxed, are so easy to pick up and so quick to tarnish the short time we're given in a specific tale.

I enjoyed Ireland and hope to have plenty of good pictures to share. We spent our last two nights dancing and drinking and riding one particular ride at some town carnival we came across. I'm such a pansy ass when it comes to roller coasters. They're only good in theory, when you've come off of one feeling healthy and alive. I think it's the combination of that metallic scent and dozens of people screaming for their lives as a giant machine rattles our tender organs around. I'll consent to liking roller coasters once every few years, as long as I don't have the trots when the time comes. So I guess I'm set until 2009.

I have a lot to say about the tour itself. First, I was under the impression that we'd be hiking around and walking, not riding a bus for most of each day. We walked/hiked a few wonderful sites and I'm grateful for those moments. Courtney and I probably wouldn't have known where to go had we attempted to plan this trip ourselves. If I had to give a specific window in which the trip sucked the most, I'd go with the 8 a.m. to 4 p.m. block every day. After that, we were free to ditch the group. The two male tour guides provided the worst part of the trip. They consistently made bullshit patriarchal jokes the entire time. Though the group was made up of approximately 30 women and four men, they pointed out roads famous for lap dances (in case the guys were up for it, they said), they discussed how lap dances "really get you going" within comfortable earshot, and they openly flirted with the women until someone opted to sleep with them for the rest of the tour. The bus driver told me I look like Julia Roberts and commented that he wouldn't be able to figure me out if he had a decade to do it. I was so flattered. As always, I was so fucking flattered that a total dick decided I was less a person than a fuckable oracle waiting for someone to say the magic words so I can comfortably drop my pants.

Said total dick later made a joke about rape that made me wish I could wash my brain with borax. Maybe a touch of lyme.

The girls we bonded with on the tour came to giggle at everything the tour guides said, which made us disenchanted with them. In fact, most of the women giggled. I don't get it. I really don't get it. It's quite difficult to find the friendly line between complete surrender and complete hostility when it comes to interacting with men and women unaware of earthquaking social issues that can seem invisible when you're either exhausted from thinking about it or just an idiot. It's hard to tell if a man like the total dick is just uneducated and disinterested in integrity, thanks to a severe lack of pressure to be a man of reasonable morals -- I say reasonable morals to leave out the religious right, who are neither reasonable nor moral -- or if he's truly a smudge, an emotional predator. I just don't know, so in the interest of keeping the sorrow that comes with being the weaker sex at bay, I just shut down. Which always leads to accusations of being a femnazi, if there isn't a dumber fucking dump of a term. But I won't giggle because it isn't funny.

Sigh. Now that that's off my chest, I'm off to do laundry. There are leprechauns growing in my backpack.