Thursday, December 14, 2006

The Day the Nutella Died

Five friends on the trip of a lifetime. With nothing more than a backpack full of camping equipment and a return ticket home four and a half weeks later, we arrived in Paris France, ready to conquer the world, or at least Europe. We had no plans and no reservations. Rather we put our faith in a little book called Let’s Go Europe. We saw 13 countries in a little over 30 days. Mostly we slept on trains, with the occasional back yard, and park (Versailles) to mix things up. The first thing we would do upon arriving in a new city was to find out where the nearest McDonalds was. That is where we ate, and no where else. After about 20 straight meals at the Golden Arches, we set a pattern of only eating at McDonalds for lunch and dinner, and adopted a hearty meal of bread and Nutella for breakfast. As the days went on the Nutella staple began to replace the McDonalds. Yes, it was that good.

As the days passed, five sweaty, stinky young men began to wear on each others nerves. It was really nothing new since we had all been on missions and had dealt with the 24/7 companion. Only rarely did tempers flare and words exchange to the point of someone getting really upset. And then it happened.

Three weeks into the journey, we were in Stockholm Sweden, the land of Milk and Honeys. We were having a great time in one of the greatest cities in the world. As was customary, one of us was put in charge of caring for and transporting the Nutella. Our financial circumstances had come to the point of all five us sharing a single jar of Nutella for almost every meal. In Stockholm the Nutella was saddled to the side of someone’s back pack (the bearer will remain anonymous.) As we were dashing across a busy road in down town Stockholm, it happened. Almost in slow motion. We all turned in unison just to watch our food source come flying off the carrier and smash against the concrete.

We just stood there. In the middle of the road, speechless. At that moment, everything changed. Nobody spoke for the rest of the day. We retired to our camping spot, rolled out our sleeping bags and went to sleep. The next morning we woke up, rolled up our bags, and slit up. Two groups going their separate ways. Two would head to Norway, two would head to Switzerland, and one would end up going home early, broke and defeated. That day changed our trip. The day the Nutella died.

Tuesday, December 12, 2006

From our family to yours...

So I was just reading a favorite bloggers latest post, and was reminded that I have yet to send out a family Christmas card – EVER. I am terrible at things like this. I always have the best intentions, but when it comes down to actually doing it, I drop the ball. Hopefully my better half has something in the works. If not, FROM OUR FAMILY TO YOURS – MERRY CHRISTMAS!