We slept late on Tuesday, recovering from the previous 36 hours of little sleep. Breakfast was the traditional fare: strong coffee, rye rolls, dark bread, meats, cheeses, butter, and home-made strawberry jam.

First, we visited my aunt Karin in her new apartment on the outskirts of Regensburg and said hello to a few cousins who had come to meet us. After that brief visit, Thuraya and I were driven to Dom Platz in the center of the city to give Thuraya her first view of Regensburg.

The streets of old-town Regensburg are cobble-stoned, narrow, and winding. Each block contains a variety of specialty shops and at least one or two cafés, the tables spilling out into the street during the warm months. Every few blocks you’ll find a bier garten, konditerei, or gothic cathedral. The history here is long and complex, starting with a Roman fort established around 90 CE, moving through a series of powerful bishops, becoming a free imperial city, and often serving as a small stage for large events. Regensburg is most recently famous as the city that gave the Catholic world its current Pope.

The day was bright and warm, but with enough shade and breeze to make the walking pleasant. We started with the Cathedral of St. Peter, typically referred to as “the Dom.” It’s a huge, two-spired Episcopal cathedral that is the centerpiece of the Regensburg skyline. The main construction began during the end of the 13th century and continued for 250 years. Inside is always cool and dark, the stained-glass windows providing the main source of light. I lit a candle there in memory of my recently departed uncle.

From the church we walked next door to the Bischofshof, which was formerly the bishop’s palace but is now a museum, hotel, and bier garten. We then walked down Goliath Strasse (so-called because of the huge painting of David and Goliath on the side of one of the buildings) to the Steinerne Brücke (the stone bridge), the other defining feature of the city (the first being the Dom). We walked to the center to admire the classic view, then climbed the Salt Tower to look out over the bridge.

Beside the bridge sits the Historiche Wurstküche, which claims to be the oldest makers of “bratwurstle” (small bratwurst sausages) in the world. We stopped there for a typical meal of bratwurstle, kipferl (small rye rolls), sauerkraut, and beer.

Afterward, we explored the more famous of the churches, including the gilded Alte Kapelle (Old Chapel), the Neufarrkirche, St. Emmeram’s Church and Monastery, St. Jakob’s Church with its Scottish portal, and the Dominican Church of St. Blasius, where we climbed another tower to get a 360-degree view of the city. We also visited Bismarckplatz to view its fountains and the exterior of the Regensburg Theater and then back through Rathausplatz, which holds the old and new town halls.

We ended our explorations in Neufarrplatz eating one of the many fantasy-like ice-cream creations. Coldstone Creamery has nothing on the “eis” creations here.

Once we were back at the house, my second-cousin Melanie met us with her new baby, Felix, and we all had a dinner of ripperl, potato salad, more bratwurstle, and more sauerkraut. As should be clear by now, eating is one of the main activities here, and for good reason: it’s all delicious.

The full photoset on Flickr is here.

Our flight left Dulles airport about 9:00pm on Sunday with Thuraya and I squished into two seats behind my mother and father. The first leg of the flight was seven hours long, and most of those hours were filled with screaming, restless children. I think I slept for twenty minutes.

We arrived in Madrid around 10:00am Monday (Madrid time). We had six hours before the two-hour flight that would take us to Munich, so we decided to check our bags and take the metro into the city.

Unfortunately, the Madrid airport proved difficult to navigate, and the language barrier was only part of the problem. We made our way from information stand to information stand, finally locating baggage check, where we played with tokens and keys until our luggage was locked away. From there, we found the metro entrance, looked like fools trying to figure out how to get a ticket from the machine, and headed down to the trains.

One of the men at the information stands provided us with a map of the metro and detailed instructions, so I felt pretty comfortable leading the way from train to train. Even without any navigational mistakes, it still took an hour to reach city center.

At 1:00pm, we came up at the Opera, a block away from the palace. It was very hot, and we knew we couldn’t stay long because we didn’t want to miss the flight out, so we spent only an hour wandering around. The palace, gardens, and statues were impressive — filled with accordion music — and many of the side streets were interesting, curving their narrow way through the brown buildings. Still, the heat and the flight deadline kept us from going very far, and we were soon back on the metro, trying hard not to fall asleep between stops.

The second leg of the flight was brief and uneventful. My Fridericke (my cousin), Helmut (her husband) and Alexandra (her daughter), and Gerda (my aunt) were waiting for us in Munich. When we’d finally gathered all of our luggage, slipped past customs, and loaded up their two vehicles, we took the half-hour drive on the Autobahn to their house on the outskirts of Regensburg. By 9:00pm, we were unpacked and sitting outside, enjoying the view of rolling hills, drinking German Pils bier, and snacking on German rye rolls, cheese, and gelbwurst.

The full flickr photoset is here.

I flew to North Dakota last week to deliver a training there and am just now getting around to posting about it.

The most amazing thing to me about North Dakota is the absolute emptiness of that state. As I flew over, I could see only the small hills and twisting veins of rivers all the way to the horizon, and everywhere brown, brown, brown. Occasionally, a small town would appear at the bend of a river, but by small I mean the equivalent of a few blocks in a typical city. Nothing in the geography suggested what prompted this small gathering, and the complete isolation was a challenge to its continued existence. Even the capital, Bismarck, where we conducted the training, is no larger than Old Town Alexandria, and the entire state contains only about 650,000 people. (For comparison, D.C. has nearly 600,000, and Manhattan has over 1.5 million.)

The training itself was full of small hassles. My flight out of Denver (the connection between D.C. and Bismarck) was delayed repeatedly, nearly canceled, and eventually took off under a weather warning in which we were told we might end up landing in Fargo … a profoundly unhelpful option. Neither Denver nor Bismarck was experiencing bad weather, but Minneapolis, situated between them, got heavy snow for nine straight hours. While waiting around at the Denver airport, I did meet, randomly and fortunately, a few state and federal Child Welfare staff who were attending the training. They invited me into their travel group, so at least I had a few others to complain with and track the changes. (Also on the up side, the Denver airport has a Paradise Bakery and Cafe, which I’d never heard about before, but which is excellent.)

My situation was better than some of the other trainers, though, who were connecting through Minneapolis. One of them couldn’t get a flight until the next day and two others checked into the hotel around one in the morning.

On top of the flight problems, the hotel added to the troubles by overbooking a group of 75 plus teenagers for a high-school FBLA conference. They had to send a number of training participants, including me, at a hotel a few blocks away.

Once the hassles of travel and setup were over, though, the training sessions went well enough. There was no real “night life” in Bismarck, so on the evening between the two training sessions, a few of us ate dinner at the hotel, had a few drinks, then drifted to our rooms. The trip back was uneventful, but I didn’t make it home until around 1:30 in the morning.

All-in-all, not a bad training, but also not a very fun trip.

So … I finally got into to Lincoln at 10:30 pm. (I was supposed to be here around 4:30). When I flew into Detroit, I checked the departures board, found the flight from Detroit to Lincoln, and headed for gate C16 (in a separate concourse). When I finally got to the C gates, I checked the board again and … canceled (mechanical difficulties).

So … I called work, called the airline, called the travel agency, and was re-booked for a flight out of Detroit the next morning, getting me to Lincoln at noon. Not helpful. Plus, no bags. So … with hotel vouchers in hand, I started wandering until I got a call back from work. Apparently, my boss was also stuck in Detroit, so … we teamed up and tried to find another way.

Eventually, we decided to book separate flights to Omaha (not our destination!) and then take a cab from Omaha to Lincoln. My flight got into Omaha around 8:30, but my baggage didn’t. So … after an hour drive to Lincoln, here I sit in the hotel room, hoping the airline will deliver my luggage soon so that I have something to wear for tomorrow’s training. And I’m exhausted. And that’s a lot of So’s …

I’ll be providing “onsite technical assistance” for the Wyoming Child and Family Services Review (CFSR) all week. My review site is Sheridan, a tiny town surrounded by mountains and half-an-hour from Big Horn National Park.

I left early this morning (6/8) and will be coming back early Friday morning (6/13). And no … it’s not lost on me that I’ll be flying back on Friday the 13th, but a) I’m generally not superstitious, and b) if I think about 13 at all, I usually think of it as a lucky number.

I had to be at the airport by 4 a.m. to make sure I made the 6 a.m. flight. It was a crowded big-jet ride to Denver where I spent a four-hour layover. The ride from Denver to Sheridan was a completely different experience. A two-prop plane, seating 30-ish but holding 20-ish, dropping and shaking over the mountain ranges. It felt more like we water skiing than flying, the way the plan seem to slide and skip over the pockets of air. I was glad to be tired: I think my exhaustion took some of the edge off.

The hotel is nice, though: nice lobby, free wireless, Starbucks coffee, pool and gym. Sheridan is surrounded by mountains and green with tall grass and groves of trees. I wasn’t expecting the temperature change: 55° F and windy. I showed up in the shorts and flip-flops of DC’s 100° humidity.

I’m a bit nervous about my responsibilities. I’m the “go to guy” for any technical or logistical problems. Since this is my first review, I’m not sure what to expect, and not sure I’ll have the solutions. Luckily, there are many people on “backup” just a phone call away, and I expect to be calling often.

Time to relax …