Hi. This is Ginger Johnson and you’re listening to Past Perfect: A Podcast.
It is very much February. The groundhog has been and gone and the view from my window shows only snow covering the ground, cut by barren tree trunks speckled with lichen and the meandering stream running across the back of our property. Sleet is clicking against the windows and every once in awhile, I hear a plow spreading salt along the road out front.
I want to begin today’s episode far away from February. It’s relevant. I promise. I want to begin in July of 1992, and after a quick visit, then we’ll return to February. For context, I was 20 years old at the time and backpacking across Europe for a month with my sister, Beth. We were traveling from Dover to Calais.
July 6, 1992
This morning we changed some money. I went grocery shopping and Beth got our packs from the hostel. We took a taxi from the hostel to the ferry docks to get rid of our excess change and hung out in the waiting room for a few hours and read. I’m reading Moby Dick and Beth is reading Tolkien. A strange boy said wistfully in passing to Beth, “I love you.” Our ferry left at 2:00. We sat on deck most of the time because it was so beautiful out and we got less seasick out there. One could make some interesting observations there as well. We saw the white cliffs as we were leaving; we saw the seagulls totally suspended in the air following us; we saw fish flopping in the wake of the ferry; and the waves, the foam, and the spray. It was a very relaxing journey. We didn’t think we were going to make the train to Vienna, but we did with an hour to spare. Unfortunately, we couldn’t make reservations for a berth, but we’re in a nice seated compartment by ourselves. I’m excited. I hope there’s room for us in the castle in Vienna.
July 7, 1992
Imagine a conductor walking into our compartment in the middle of the night speaking to us in German. Imagine Beth and I looking blankly at him. He gets the point and asks in English, “Where are you going?” I think for about a full ten seconds and say, “Vienna.” So he tells us to get on the front of the train because it’s going to split.
Beth and I grab our stuff and start walking several cars up, but we come to the part that is splitting because the metal cross boards are up, so there’s space between cars. Beth and I are terrified it was going to go without us, so we decide to jump across.
Picture us throwing our bags across and jumping over. It was too funny. We were on the right train though. Our problem was that Vienna has two train stations and we got off at the wrong one and were rather confused for a while. But we caught a train to the big train station. We were so tired though and our packs were getting heavier by the second. We ended up walking forever, but then, we finally did find a bus stop and an old woman kept speaking to us in German, even after we told her we didn’t understand. We finally got up to the “castle.” It’s not a castle. It’s next to a very post hotel, but it’s not a castle. And it started to rain as we were walking up a very long hill. But anyway, this hostel is pretty nice as far as hostels go.
Beth and I went for dinner and got schnitzel each—which was huge. And then we split a banana split. We did laundry tonight and we’ve decided to spend tomorrow in Verona and the following two days in San Gimignano, and then head to Siena.
Fast forward to February 6, 2019.
I’m feeling swamped. Last week, Will came into the office and told us that he wanted to be homeschooled. So I started doing some digging into homeschooling and now I need a backhoe. We’re turning the dining room into a school room, getting a huge white board, clearing out the cedar chest and possibly selling it, moving or selling the mirror, clearing out the desk, moving Will’s desk—and that’s just the environment. I also have him involved in a homeschool co-op and we’re looking into German classes. And I have the rest of the curriculum to plan. Honestly, I’m excited about it and I think it will be a blessing to him and to me, individually, and for our family collectively.
But it’s a lot to think about. Really a lot. And Bill is hunkered down in semester mode, meaning he’s gone a lot. All day yesterday, all day Friday. He’ll be going to London for a week next month and there are the uncertainties of what we’re going to do during sabbatical that are looming.
February 7, 2019
And so begins a new life. Bill was notified yesterday that he was given the Fulbright. I went to yoga and when I came home, Bill was walking down the street towards [the car]. Then he ran over and told me the good news. I got out of the car and hugged him, jumping up and down. It’s exciting, but I feel so overwhelmed with everything else that has to get done that it’s hard for me to feel excited. I think once I get the house purged and Will settled into a routine and a wish list of things to do while we’re there, maybe I’ll be able to find some excitement. But for now, the dining room is a mess because I emptied the cedar chest. I also need to go through the chifferobe to purge and to find a place for the stuff from the cedar chest that I’d like to keep.
The living room is a mess because I started cleaning out the desk drawers so we’d have a place for homeschool supplies. The kitchen is a mess because I needed to find a place for my collection of crockpots that were stored under the cedar chest. So I cleaned out the lazy susan cabinet and now I need to figure out what to do with the rest of the stuff. And what do I do with the cedar chest? Keep it for blankets? Or sell it? And if I keep it, where do I put it? Oy.
Little did I know as a very naïve 20-year old that 27 years later, I would be living in Vienna for a year. Little did I know as an overwhelmed mother just how wonderful it would be.
From my quiet office to your ears, wishing you moments of excitement and schnitzel to go along with it . Until next time, be well and let your light shine.
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