Desert Experience

It was a perfect day to drive out into the Sahara desert. Not too hot (I can't stand heat) and not too windy, the only "problem" was that Ned had this aweful cold and that he as well as me had not had the best of nights. And don't think me a little winch-bag, but my arm really hurt because of the uncomfortable "sleeping" (I didn't really sleep all night) position and the funny thing the henna tattoo did to my nerves. So, understandably I wasn't in the best of moods to start with and thinking of sitting in the back of a 4W drive for the next several hours didn't improve my mood, as I do get car sick now and then.

Before we headed into the Libyan Sahara though we had to taste camel milk, freshly milked from a camel. Uhm, the thought of drinking camel milk still warm, fresh out of the camel and then later on sit in the back of a 4W drive and possibly getting carsick didn't make me toooo keen on tasting the milk, but I didn't really have a choice anyway. An old Tuareg guy (at least I think he was Tuareg) got the mother camel and bound her front leg up, so that she couldn't run away, then he got the, uhm, baby camel (???? is it a camel calf?? or camel puppy??? or camel foal??? maybe we just stick with baby camel) to drink and while the baby camel drank on one tit he milked the other one. I've never milked a cow I have to confess, but if I'm not totally mistaken, it takes quite some time to hand milk a cow and fill up a whole bucket . Man I tell you, camel milking is quite a high pressure experience and it's done quite quickly. In no time at all the bucket was full with foaming, fresh, warm camel milk and I had a cup full pressed in my hand. I did try it. It tastes very salty . I hardly ever drink just milk for the enjoyment of drinking milk. Ben's the milk-boy in our family, so you can trust his judgement that camel's milk tastes much more like cow's milk than goat milk does or sheep milk, despite the saltiness. I couldn't get down more than a couple tiny sips. If I drink milk it's either chilled or (if I'm sick) hot and with honey in it J.

I have never been truly IN the desert before (my last time in Misdah we stayed in Misdah and didn't venture out). Thinking of desert, I would automatically think of sand dunes after sand dune after sand dune. But as I was being tossed around on the backseat of our 4W drive I noticed there is a vast diversity of desert scenery. We were heading to the "typical" desert full with sand dunes, but in order to get there we first drove about 1h on normal roads and another hour on basically none excising roads through different "kinds" of desert . There were parts were everything was covered with rocks, little orange and sandy, yellowish rocks. Then there were other parts where there were small black rock evenly spread out on the dusty ground as if a couple of Neds had been busy throwing rocks and leaving them after they were finished. There were also these green brownish bushes, in some parts even green grass with a couple of sheep and goats having their lunch. And sometimes there would be a big sand pile piled up as if a truck had dumped it there. We also crossed river beds, which were dry though of course and passed a couple houses and sheep dents... I really wondered what in all the world would make you live in the desert such a harsh and cruel life, but still, there were people living out there and it is perfectly normal for them to live like that (I'd like to say now, that you will never hear me complaining again about rainy days, but I know myself, I WILL complain about them againJ).

I didn't feel flash but wasn't too bad, humping and bumping around on the backseat, but the longer we drove the more I was dreading the trip back to Misdah. It felt like we were driving forever. I also became aware, that If something happened to our drivers I wouldn't have any idea how to get out of this desert again, no idea how to find water or a sign of civilisation. It made me realize my own insignificance, and still, God cares for every single one of us, He cares for me. That was an encouraging thought (by the way our driver had 3 satellite phones and a couple more normal cell phones so I guess even I would have been bale to get some help).

Our driver was a middle aged Bedouin man (he told us he had two Missus's, at one point he actually almost stuck his mobile phone up my nose because he wanted me to talk to Missus No. two, great... I love small talks, especially if the other person doesn't speak the same languageJ). This guy was amazing though in finding his way though the Sahara. I guess it is his business to take visitors/guests/tourists out there but still, I was lost in no time, and normally I'm quite good with directions.

First we went to a big hole in the middle of nowhere. They told us that there was a bus at the bottom of the big hole in the middle of nowhere but I couldn't see a bus at the bottom of the big hole in the middle of nowhere and why in the world would a bus be down there anyway???? But the hole was impressive!!!! And unlike in Germany or any other place in the "safety"-crazy Western world, there was no nothing to prevent us from falling down, except our very own good common sense.

Taking a photo of a guy taking a photo of a lady taking a photo of her husband

When we finally reached the sand dunes it was amazing (and worth the 2h drive). It wasn't as hot as you'd imagine it to be in the dessert and we all took out shoes off to climb the sand dunes, that is, all except Ned. He refused to have his shoes taken off (he must come after his Grandad LessJ). I'm one of those strange weirdos who really doesn't like sand (Going swimming at a beach always puts me in a bit of a dilemma: how do I get back to my dry towel without getting that sand stuck on my wet legs?) but this sand was so nice, soft, warm, fine... perfect.

Then they started to prepare lunch: Pida bread baked in a fire in the sand, the dough freshly and carefully prepared by our Bedouin driver. What ever he did he did very thorough. First started a fire in the sand, then he washed his hands almost ritually and dried them.After that he washed out a bowl, put inthe ingredients for the pida bread, knead it, formed the pida and covered it with a layer of flour. The fire had burned low and he moved the embers to the side, put the pida bread in the hot sand, covered it with more hot sand and at last he covered the hot sand with the embers again. Believe me, that pida bread is worth the wait, soooo yummy, although slightly sandy, but the flour coat helps shaking off most of the sand. They also prepared some kind of soup or something (which had my beloved tuna in it) and there were fresh vegetable and fruit (to the delight of my fruit and veggies loving offspring... he ate two entire small cucumbers, to the disgust of his father who despises cucumbers).

I guess in Europe we're often used to fast food. That doesn't even mean that we go to Mac Donald's every day, but normally a meal is prepared in less than an hour (at least when I am cookingJ). This meal in the desert gave me a new perspective on the word "slow food" and how awesome it actually is to have a meal prepared from scratch while you sit there and chat or go around and explore and just enjoy being together (luckily I wasn't hungry and thereof desperate for foodJ).

It would have been a perfect day if Ned hadn't had that aweful cold, but considering he did soooo well. He was a bit moody and particular but hey, how do you feel when you are sick and would get dragged through the desert by your parentsJ???? Somehow I tend to forget about Cedric, but he is such a happy and content baby most of the time, that it is so easy to forget about him, but luckily we did NOT forget him in the desert or leave him there accidentally.

My kid went WILD!!!

Arabs LOVE children, and they have a LOT of children around wherever you go. It isn’t only their own kids, but the kids of the sister or Cousin Ali’s children or the kids of the brother's cousin’s aunt’s sister… so there are always lots of kids around. And those kids have got a lot of freedom, they can do whatever they want, run around wherever they want, eat however little or much they want in whatever style they want, sitting down or standing up or running around. Don’t get me wrong, most of the children I’ve met are very well behaved (in fact often they are better behaved than my very own wild donkey lately). The amazing thing is, that the older kids take care of the younger ones and they don’t mind having the younger ones around or telling them off now and then... back home the older kids always hate having to look after the younger ones. Well, our offspring though, isn’t used to that kind of freedom. For him it was a strange, foreign and fun concept, so of course he made the MOST of it (as I had dreaded beforehand). If you wanted to tell him off, other adults would tell you “Don’t worry, leave him be”. So no "NOs" whatsoever, no discipline, no limits, no nothing. He went WILD like a wild donkey!!!!

When we first arrived in the small desert town of Misdah, around 2 1/2h drive inland from Tripoli we visited a little school, some children sang a song for us and, of course, had some food. Next stop was lunch (at 3pm, normal lunch time in these parts of the world). I didn't have a clue (and still don't have) why exactly we had lunch at this guys place, no idea what the connection was and why we were there, but when we entered, he greeted us with “My house, is your house!” and Ned seemed to take it literately. He explored everywhere, picked up everything, ran around like crazy, went into the kitchen and spend some time with the ladies of the house (whom we only briefly met just before leaving), accidentally pushed a little girl over and just could not get the concept I his head, that in this culture you eat on the ground and that the table cloth on floor is basically the dinning table. Instead of going AROUND he’d run straight over it, in between the food as well as over it. Well, we weren’t allowed to tell him otherwise.

I think I've mentioned it before, but Ned loves fruit, I mean he really LOVES fruit (a friend told us that she’d never seen a kid enjoy eating fruits and veggies as much as Ned does). Well, there were these bowls of fruit. First he picked up an apple, took a bite and but it back in the bowl. Next he picked up a pear, took another bit and put it back again. After that he had a go with a banana. There was also a bowl with chocolates. I don’t even want to think about how much chocolate he must have had. Every time he came rushing in or out of the room he had another wrapper in his hand or some more chocolate smeared over his face. I didn’t bother trying to make him sit down and eat some of the yummy cuscus, thinking: “When in Rome, do as the Romans”. He also thought it great fun that everyone was sitting on the floor; “uncle” Ronnie made a perfect horse (I hope he didn’t damage uncle Ronnie permanently).

At one point I could hear our host laughing in the area where the kitchen and the back door was. Then he stuck his head back into the room and beckoned me to come out. I was dreading what would meet my eyes. Luckily Ned wasn’t in the process of destroying half of the house or anything the like, but he’d run outside (no shoes, only in his socks) and was busy throwing stones from our hosts court yard over a rather high wall to the neighbors’. The other kids and their dad thought it was hilarious (and Ned loved having an audience).

After lunch (I think it was around 5pm) we went to see the old ruinous city of Misdah and the little museum our host for lunch runs. He was very please to inform me, that the German explorer Heinrich Barth came through Misdah some time in the 1850s. He even owns the book “Die grosse Reise” by H. Barth in German, which was published some time in the late 1850s and is now out of printJ.

After the museum we went to another man’s home, this time I knew that he was a cousin of our friend Mohamed. Whereas at lunch we were together with the man, now us 3 ladies were ushered to the ladies quarters and what a sight it was. They were all dressed up beautifully in bright colourful robes and lots of perfume and make-up and we had tea and coffee with them. I didn’t even try to control Ned. He saw more of the house than I will ever do myself. He had some chocolate on our side then he would disappear and have some biscuits with the man just to re-appear in our quarters to knock over a glass of orange juice. Not bothered by it whatsoever he ran off again to do I-don’t-know-what, just to re-appear once more and knock over some coffee, step in it and run off again. Of course there were lots of other little boys around and at one point a maybe 5-year-old stuck his head in in a slightly alarmed and helpless manner saying something in Arabic. Honestly I didn't even want to know what Ned was up to this time and luckily they didn’t translate for me.

It wasn’t my first time in Misdah. Three years ago I came for a visit with Ben as well when Logos II was in Tripoli. That time I had such a great but also a bit of difficult time because I had such a aweful runny nose and I also couldn’t speak more than 5 words of Arabic and the ladies English is basically none existing. I still don’t speak more than 5 words of Arabic, but this time a German couple was with us who’d lived in Egypt for 15 years and spoke Arabic fluently. Conversation is SOOOO much easier if there is one person at least speaking both languages. But then another problem surfaces: what to talk about, lah! Luckily we had a baby with us (a very well-behaved baby that is) and he was, once more, passed around like an Olympic torch. When I finally got him back, he smelled very much of this very heavy Arabic musk perfumeJ.

Well, I neither really drink tea nor coffee, and that is something they really don’t understand here, how you can not drink it. When a girl passed around the coffee and biscuits I took a biscuit but declined the coffee. She gave me a very puzzled look and After finishing going around passing out the coffee she came back to me, just to make sure that I was in all ernest about not wanting some coffee. I made a mental note to not refuse next time… I guess I was very rude in their eyes or something.

Finally we went to our friend’s home and us ladies were welcomed to the ladies quarters. It was so nice to meet them again. There were lots of ladies and most of their names I’ve forgotten again. It is also very difficult for me to tell them apart because they all wore a headcovering, even though we were all ladies. I knew Mohamed’s wife, and I also remembered her sister but I could not remember anyone else from my last visit. Well, they did!! They remembered my runny nose and they were very quick to inform me that I had changed, that I had grown fat… maybe having no translator would be better for my self-esteemJ… ou well, I try to loose my baby fat again, but it is easier said than done. One girl also insisted on speaking Arabic to me, following me around, I tried to sign to hear that I truly and honestly didn't get a word she said. She'd only repeat what she'd said before, but this time slooooower and clearer and louder, as if I was deafJ.

Mohamed has two sons (and a baby daughter), and this time they were the only children besides Ned, but he gladly joined them in running all over the house. I thought he'd either drop dead soon… or he'd start crying because of over-tiredness. I would have loved to put him down to sleep, but had no idea what the sleeping arrangements were, only that the men would be with the men and the ladies with the ladies… they also said to let him run until he'd fall asleep(while running??). Well, I tried to do just that. At 10:30 pm out little guy was so blown through the wind that he only cried and cried and wanted his daddy. As all the ladies had their headcoverings in place he was allowed in and went to the room where us three ladies and my two boys were to sleep. After a while he finally fell asleep. Ced was also finished with his bottle and laid in his little travel cot, when all of a sudden out of the blue, he puked, like a little milk fountain, the content of his entire bottle. Great!!!! After I had him clean again they both were in bed and sleeping FINALLY.

To be honest, I was ready for bed myself, which was not to be though. My two companions were to be dressed up in a beautiful Libyan traditional wedding costume (I wore it last time already) AND there was still the henna tattooing. In a way I really wanted to have one but the time factor made me a bit unwilling: it takes quite some time to be put on, and after that it needs to dry for 3 or 4h. Just when I decided to give it a go, I heard Ned crying in agony. It took me forever to calm him down again. He wanted daddy. I told him that daddy was with the men (REALLY disliking segregation VERY much) and we couldn’t go over there. He did calm down after quite some time, but would not go back to sleep. At 1am I gave up. Although my two friends had gone to bed by now, I saw that some ladies where still up in the other room, so I grabbed Ned, went over there and had my henna tattoo done. It is quite pretty and in retrospect I’m glad I did it, but a couple minutes after starting with it I started to doubt my own sanity again. First they stick a big sticky pattern on your arm, then they tape the edges down with cello tape or something, after that a thick layer of henna-mud gets put on, it then gets covered with some paper towel and wrapped with a scarf. Then you’re suppose to go to bed, lay on your back and hold your arm very still for about 3 or 4h. It started to feel quite uncomfortable already quite early, in fact it started to feel strange when they stuck the pattern on. I felt like somehow my nerves were doing funny things and my finger tips started to tingle.

Well, I did go to bed, but oh what a night. Ned finally went back to sleep, but only with me next to him. I had to lay on the side where I had the tattoo and every time I made an attempt to turn on my back, Ned would wake up and start screaming again. So I lay on my side almost the entire rest of the night, trying not to move my henna-tattooed arm too much while I slowly felt that my blood circulation was cut off and the nerves continued to do funny things.In my comfortableness I came to the frightful conclusion, that at the end of this night I would “wake up” to find my arm having died off and being black or blue, but at least with a red henna-tattoo on it. I was on the point of walking back to the ship right there and then. Well, the night did end, I did get some sleep (maybe 2h hours), and boy was I happy when I discovered that the beautiful henna tattoo was on a still normally coloured and fully functional arm. Unfortunately Ned woke up with the same aweful cold I had three years ago (they will always remember us as the family with the runny and snotty noses). The night was rather dreadful but we were rewarded with the most amazing fresh Libyan bread for breakfast, freshly backed outside in a special kind of bread oven.

I struggle to like the child I love so much

Normally you start a story at the beginning, don’t you??? And I guess the beginning of the story of our little trip to inland Libya started one or two days before we actually left (so hopefully I’m not boring you to much, but if I do, feel free to scroll downJ, it IS getting a bit emotional, because emotions boiled a bit over, just before the trip to the desert).

Sometimes I struggle so much to like the child I love so much. I struggle with his behaviour, with his screaming and kicking, with the little boy, who can also be so adorable, can be so much fun, can care for other children, can share with people, can eat nicely, can go down to sleep like an little angels, can obey, can play with lots of imagination either alone or with others, can tidy up, can give kisses and hugs, can flash cheeky grins… as I said, he CAN. But lately he often showed his rather, uhm, not so pleasant side, a side we all have, the sinful one. And I am ashamed of it! It makes me sad, embarrassed, boiling hot, angry, aggressive, discouraged, impatient, short tempered … it makes the worst come out in me, MY sinful side. I saw him pulling out some hair of a little girl, push another one, “steal” food from a third, and of course his tantrums, they returned big times. People ask me why he screams so much in the dinning room. It makes me want to give them stupid sinful answers, or defending or justify his behaviour, although I can't stand his screaming myself!!! I hate him screaming in the dinning room, screaming in the staircases, screaming on deck 4… I hate him screaming wherever, to be honest, even alone with one of us in the cabin, all in private. It makes me feel aggressive and I feel like it’s making us look like incapable parents, like failures (I know that feelings are often not based on reality, but still, they are there). You start to compare: Other children don’t seem to do as much screaming as him (remember, the grass always seems greener on the other side). Comparing makes me feel even worse, I start complaining to God about my son, about life, about everything although I know and see that there are so many things I am so immensely grateful for, inclusive the very same son.

Nap time has been a such a struggle lately, it's gotten so much worse since being back on the ship. Instead of sleeping he’s taken his bedding apart, emptied drawers of nicely folded laundry, emptied cupboard of more laundry, sat on top of drawers, sat in drawers and also stood in drawers. I don’t mind him not sleeping and reading or playing in bed, but I do greatly mind him doing all those other things: I spend all that time folding the laundry, I don’t want him to get hurt or fall over because of the drawers, I don’t want him to BREAK the drawers AND I want him to learn to obey me, his mother!!!! You might think: “Why bother with nap times if he so obviously doesn’t need it anymore??” Well, I tell you why bother with naptimes, if he doesn’t go down for a nap, he is a grumpy ratbag for the rest of the day, that’s why I bother with nap times!!!.

Monday and Tuesdays were two days when our nap time issue almost got out of control. On Monday I made the decision to take him out of bed after a while without him having slept at all, with the result that I had a whining and screaming and extremely naughty kid for the rest of the day. I guess it doesn’t help in particular, that Ben is so busy. So often something urgent pops up for him, just at that very time when it used to be “daddy time”. Ben really tries to spend as much time with us as possible, but somehow urgent situations always seem to happen in the most inconvenient moments. Well, on Monday, Ben was with us for dinner, but as I said Ned was, uhm, being difficult… and very loud about it, in fact kicking and screaming and Ben took Ned up to the cabin, while I finished eating. Being still in the dinning room I could see that there was an amazing sunset, so I thought I’d use the time to take some photos of the sunset while Ben was with Ned. I rushed to the cabin, noticed that Ned was still in his room screaming and Ben in the main cabin, grabbed the camera and rushed out again to the aft of the ship. The sunset was spectacular!! Our God really is the greatest artist of all!! At one point I thought I heard my name being paged, but I didn’t understand it properly, so I thought “Who in the world would page for me anyway??” and ignored it. When the sun had finally set, I went back to the cabin to be greeted by a very upset toddler and also, surprisingly, a slightly upset husband, who accused me of locking a door. I do many silly things without thinking, but I was very sure, I didn’t lock no doors… when he saw my puzzled look he asked: “So you didn’t lock the door to Ned’s cabin???” I mean, hello, why in the world would I lock the door to Ned’s cabin while he’s screaming his head of on the other side???? Well, I suppose Ned tried to free himself and locked himself instead accidentally. After Ned had calmed down a bit, Ben wanted to get him out of his room but couldn’t open the door, it was locked. He tried the key from the main cabin, but it wouldn’t fit. He tried talking Ned into how to unlock himself again. He thought I must have locked the door when I rushed in to grab the camera, so he tried to contact me which didn’t work out. Of course the little guy inside the cabin started getting a bit hysteric and Ben was getting desperate to get the door open. He was just contemplating how best to break the door down when he remembered that the captain has a grand master key which opens all doors (at least on our ship that is, not on yours or anywhere else of course) and luckily he found him quickly and they released the (self-inflicted) little prisoner. I returned shortly after and was confronted with the accusation of having locked the little guy in his cabin. To be honest, this accusation was founded neither on logic nor facts; I mean why would I lock him in the first place??? And if Ben’s cabin key didn’t fit why should mine do so?? Well, he forgave me for unknowingly being suspected of locking up our son in his cabin and then running away and hiding with my camera to take pictures of a sunset.

So on Tuesday, I was determined for Ned to have his nap time. I was in no mood whatsoever to have the same behaviour again as the day before. And it needed drastic measures!! I had told him before, if he didn’t stay in bed, I would take away his beloved teddy and best friend Hermie. When I put him in bed, HE told me: “Stay bed… Hermie away”, but unfortunately he didn’t take my threat serious, but I meant business!! When I found him almost sitting in the top drawers again, I calmly (at least on the outside, inside I was boiling) put him back to bed and tried to explain to him that I would take Hermie now and then left the cabin. I felt so miserable… incapable, sinful, angry, ashamed, sad…. and many more things hard to explain. So here I sat on the verge of tears and over there he screamed his head off for I don’t know how long (too long, that’s for sure) but I had to see it through. When he finally went quiet I went over, and there he lay, my little boy, my little angel, so much loved, but sometimes not liked… or better, his behaviour not liked. I love the person, but not the deed… strangely familiar, isn’t it???? God loves the sinner, but not sin. He loves ME so much, but not MY sin. And he forgives me, again and again. And just like I am forgiven, God wants me to forgive. I have to forgive Ned, forgive him, for making me feel like a incapable mother, for embarrassing me, for bringing up my worst, my sinful self.

When he’d calmed down I went in to pass Hermie back to Ned, he wasn’t asleep, just utterly exhausted. I said to him: “I forgive you”, because I needed to forgive him, I wanted to ask him to forgive me as well, but I guess that is just a bit too high for a 2 year old to grasp. And I saw it in his eyes anyway, that he’d forgiven me and loves me as much as ever. He gave me a kiss. He very quickly went to sleep, him and Hermie.

I would LOVE to be able now to write, that for the rest of the day, he was the little angel boy I know is somewhere hidden there, but unfortunately it got so much WORSE after nap time.

After Ned woke up again, Ben came to the cabin, we went down to go for dinner and Ben got a phone call (oh how I hate those mobile phones at times)!! He hadn’t even sat down or gotten his food but had to leave right there and then. So I was alone again with Ned and the screaming started again, with no obvious reason, I left the food standing on the table grabbed my kicking and screaming kid, rushed up to our cabin and dumped him in his room again. I was so mad (where was the forgiveness again???)!!! I was so exhausted. He was screaming in his cabin for almost an hour and I lay on my bed or infront of the door to his cabin sobbing. He cried for mama, he cried for mama to come, and he cried for daddy, for daddy to come. Daddy, daddy, daddy, and sobbing and sobbing… my heart hurting like crazy, but I felt so incapable to deal with the situation. Finally Ben came back and Ned was allowed to come out again. He didn’t want me, he went straight to his daddy. He misses him so much. Back home Ben would be home as good as every lunch time and evening, as well as the entire weekend. And now we live where Ben works and we hardly see him because Mr. Ben here and Mr. Ben there and Mr. Ben everywhere. I feel aweful to request two hours a day (basically from dinner time to bed time), because Ben IS so busy and there as so many things which have to be dealt with and he is the contact man, but it also breaks my heart to see this little boy yearning for his daddy.

So that was the situation before we left for our overnight trip to Misdah, and to be honest, I really didn’t want to go anymore dreading the behaviour of my son, especially in a culture, where kids, especially boys, are allowed to do anything without any consequences. I did pack a whole bag full of bribes though… positive enforcement, I mean…

I should go to bed now... night night

Do you also have such moments in life which I call “Reality Checks” or maybe even better “Normality Checks”????? You pause in life and think “What in the world AM I doing here?”

Well, I just had one of those moments today thinking: “Normal people don’t sit in a 4W drive bottle feeding a baby on the one side and wiping off the really runny and snotty nose of a toddler on the other while humping and bumping around on the back seat through the Sahara desert”. Well, I guess I don’t really belong in the category “normal” anyway. Now sitting here at the computer back on the ship, still trying to get the Saharan sand out of eyes, hair, ears, cloths, children and pretty sure also camera, I feel like I entered a different world. The last two, three days where VERY intense and I think I will write several stories about it here on the blog (I hope I won’t bore youJ), but now I’m way too tired to write much more (I think I got only something like 2h of sleep last night and maybe another 1/2h on the humpy and bumpy backseat in the Sahara desert between feeding and wiping noses). Despite the little sleep, we had an amazing time on our overnight stay in a little desert town called Misdah, about 2 1/2h drive inland. There are many things I learned (I think) and many (hopefully) great photos I took (there are 628 downloading on the laptop as I speak… ahm, write, and most properly I will delete quite a lot of them, because I don’t want to compete with a man in Misdah who has 50.000 photos on his computer, and proud of itJ!

Well, I really wanna go to bed and catch up on some sleep,… one last thought though, what would you expect to eat as a meal when you are in the middle (okay, only somewhere of the side) of the Sahara??? I thought of lamb, or sheep or goat… or camel… or grasshopper… BUT no, we had tuna, fancy thatJ!!! Unfortunately I don’t fancy tuna very much ("hate" really is a very strong word), BUT it still tasted really good (despite the tuna) because of the company and scenery!!

Night night… maybe I wait to post it, until I can add at least one photo, shan’t I????J

P.S. Out of politeness I not only ate tuna in the desert (and for tuna it really tasted good) but I also drank a cup of coffee (I really do NOT like coffee)… but unfortunately I have to admit that my sacrifice for politeness wasn't sooo big, because the cup was rather tiny and the coffee so sweet that there was hardly any coffee taste left… but still too much coffee taste for my liking)

Ship's life

We really love being back on board Logos Hope. It's so great catching up with old friends and getting to know new people, hearing their stories. Deck 4 is also an amazing place to go to, especially with Cedric, people just love him. Ben also likes taking Ned down there and Ned loves being down there, the ice cream might contribute a little bit to him liking being down there so muchJ. I love having to tidy up only such a small cabin and it's great to have so many available babysitters (hahaha). Going for the Sunday service is also so easy and no big act like at home, and Ced often just sleeps in the cabin and we take our baby phone along, very handy!! And one wonderful thing has happened as well, and that is that Ced started to sleep fully 10h a night... I LOVE IT!!! It's great to put him to bed at 9 in the eveing and then he wakes up again at 7 in the morning, what a blessing!!! And I truely hope that it isn't only here on the ship because of all the background noises like the airflow of the ventilation and the like, but that he'll continue doing it once we live like normal people back on land.

But I suppose that you suspected already that there is a BUT coming and here it comes: BUT there are many things I have to get used to again or anew.

I mean how often does it happen at home that random people clean your windows with a broom or a brush with lots of noise and water and in doing so waking up your sleeping baby???? At home you clean your windows yourself or you leave them dirty, like I do (ahm, I do confess, I do not clean my windows very often, only if I really can't see through them anymore, then it's about time to clean them again). So now I have a tired and screaming baby, who can't settle down again... hmmm.

At home you also wouldn't shower with swimming pool water, now would you??? Neither wash your laundry with it nor would you drink it, would you??? Well, presently the water aboard is so chlorinated that everything smells like swimming pool: the clothes, yourself, the drinking water, everything... at least we know for sure that there can't possibly be any germs left anywhere

J... hmmm.

Aboard I'm also kind of lost in time and space a bit, never knowing what day it is, mainly due to the fact that a normal ship's week is slightly different than a normal week in a normal life living in a normal house on land. In most countries the people are off work on the weekend, which is Saturday and Sunday, so our day off on board isn't the Saturday but the Monday, because people come to visit the ship when they are off so we have to work. Confusing, I know!! Sunday stays Sunday though with a Sunday service in the morning, but the ship's open in the afternoon. So Monday is the ship's Saturday and a work week is from Tuesday to Saturday. That alone is slightly confusing for me, and most of the time I have no clue what day of the week it is anyway, but I slowly got used to it again because Fundeck (which is Kindergarten in a "normal life") is also from Tuesday to Saturday, that's why I try to make an effort to remember. So! But now the ship is in a part of the world where the weekend is from Friday to Saturday, because the holy day is the Friday and not the Sunday so they adjusted the ship's week's schedule to this part of the world. so Friday is the Sunday and we have our Sunday service on Friday morning but the ship's open in the afternoon and the day off is... uhm, to be honest, I don't have a clue anymore which day is the official day off when most people are off work (of course there is always someone working on a ship, because people need to be fed and the engine room needs to be watched and so does the gangway and the bridge, they are manned 24/7). I suppose I just go with the flow and toddle behind all the other people who are suppose to know what's going on, at least I hope they do... Are you lost in confusion with me?? Well, I'm sorry J. Well, I don't really have a day off anyway because as a mum you're working 24/7 but apparently that often isn't really considered work. If you happen to be of the same opinion, I could give you my energetic two year old for a day or two and you'll know what I'm talking about J. (By the way, baby finally settled down again after lots of TLC and screaming).

Living on land you normally have a decently fast internet connection (okay, sometimes one even feels that is too slow and one complains, not that I would EVER do such a thing), whereas on board you open up a web page then you go and do some chores around the ship and once you're back the site might be open or it might say:

This web page is not available.

The web page at https://emailnet.org/ might be temporarily down or it may have moved permanently to a new web address.

Don't get me wrong, I am so extremely grateful that we do have internet on board, that I can blog and upload photos for the family (and maybe one or two other people who might be interested), but that particular page is the one to check my emails and although there aren't thousands of people writing emails to me, it still is my "link" to the world back homeJ.

Living in a small space like a cabin is really also a blessing, cleaning up can be done so quickly, unfortunately making it messy again is also done VERY quickly!! so I feel like I'm tidying up the whole time and it always looks slightly messy, sigh. It also seems that the laundry monster has followed me to the ship. How in the world are four people able to produce so much laundry???? Okay the puking and peeing might have something to do with it, but ... ou well... Becca, drop it

J.

It is nice not having to cook every day nor having to think of what to cook, but yeah, there is a lot of rice served on board, a LOT of rice!! I hadn't eaten rice in almost 6 months after leaving the Doulos, but luckily I started to enjoy rice again even before we arrived back on boardJ. And generally the food's quite nice, even if it is sometimes a bit "interesting" or also maybe something I wouldn't really choose to cook myself J.

Another thing which I really don't enjoy is ironing. Hate is a strong word but I would almost use it to describe my relationship with ironing. Ben's wearing dress shirt's and dress pants every day (which is quite a sacrifice on his side), and those shirts and pants want to be ironed, sigh... but I do it, because I really like that guy an want him to look his best J.

Well, I waffled long enough, I'll let you go and I get going myself...

.

Generosity

Yesterday we ventured out to see the Bazaar and the old Medina. Like the good "tourists" that we are we went in the morning and of course nothing is really opened yet, because -of course- it is a late night culture in these parts of the world. But we didn't really go to buy stuff or something but rather to be off the ship for a bit, have a look around and enjoy the company of good friends. We slowly walked the one kilometre or so to the old town and -of course- we had to stop at the playground.

Libyans love children, and our friends kids a two cute, blonde girls... they got so many kind pats on their blonde heads :o). People here are very friendly and generous... and they not only like cute, blonde girls but also cute dark-eyed boys AND -of course- BABIES!!!! Ced got his cute chubby cheeks squeezed so many times, although he was in his sling on my back.

One lady in particular was very kind to us (and if you live on the ship you most probably heard me telling the story many times because I think it's s cool). I stood on this playground, Ced on my back, waiting for Ben, who had been gone quickly, and watching Ned play, when this lady had a conversation with the baby on my back. Well, my Arabic is basically none existing and so was her English, but we tried to have a conversation, I told her I'm from Germany and those two boys were my sons and all of a sudden she pulled out a whole package of biscuits and just gave it to me. Wow!!! I mean, I was a total stranger and a tourist as such and she just gave me her package of biscuits... how often have I given something to a total stranger and tourist just for their kids being so cute back home???? To be honest, I can't remember ever having done such a thing. It makes me thinking... am I able to learn from this culture?? Learn to be more open and generous and kind???

I just love looking around the Bazaar.... and I love those trays!!!

As I mentioned, they do like babies.. they do like babies A LOT!!!!! Which is pretty handy and can be used as a very good "ice breaker"... especially if your Arabic is as good as none excising!! Babies are beyond language barriers or cultural differences, babies are babies and they melt away the differences with their cute little smiles AND dribbles. I took Ced with me to one of the programs on board in the evening. He was almost instantly "asked" out of my arms, I had no idea what they were saying as they were passing Ced around like an Olympic torch but seeing them charmed by my little boy's gorgeous, dribbly smile made really funny things to my heart

Not Stupid

Ned is back in his "big time tantrum stage". Great!! I guess it might be his way of dealing with all the changes we have forced on him, poor guy. Knowing that though, still doesn't help me not to be totally impatient with him, and to be honest also annoyed and slightly embarrassed by his behaviour.. I mean, who likes having a kid screaming his head of in a fully packed dinning room for at least 15 min???? It's definitely NOT my choice of kid to have at that very moment, but I guess I have to take him as he is, and sending back isn't an option, neither is selling him on ebay. That particular incident was cause only by having one more bite of his bread. One tiny little bite, that was all, I didn't ask him to eat a whole cow or Brussels sprouts or something... no, it was a tiny bit of a nice toasted cheese sandwich, but I digress... (really nice word, I really like it)

Anyway...

Today he sat for at least 45min infront of his sandwich and did not want to eat at all. Nada, nothing, njete, nix! He wanted to have a pear, and eating fruit is a very good thing, but you need something more substantial at times so I insisted on at least half of a toasted sandwich. But no, Mylord did not want to eat toasted sandwich (which he devoured a couple of nights ago). In the end I said to him, that if he didn't eat at least one bite he would get nothing, nada, njete, nix else to eat for the rest of the night, no cookies, no chocolate, no pear, no salt sick, nothing (how I hate being the evil mum). Then you could see his brain kicking in gear, and within a split of a second he grabbed the piece of sandwich, took a microscopic bite, put it back down and turned to me demanding cookies!!!! I have to admit I cracked laughing, just couldn't help myself. He did not get any cookies though, but he was happy having a pear.

my cheeky monkey

P.S. despite all the frustrations and challenges I have trying to raise a little boy to become a man of God some time in the future, I do love him dearly. And on days like today, with challenges piled upon challenges I'm so happy once he's in bed, but I just came out of his room again. I heard him coughing. I went in. I snuggled up to him, held this dear little body in my arms and all the frustrations melted away. He grinned at me with his cheeky grin and asked for a kiss. I told him it was an excellent kiss. When I leave the room he blows me another kiss, still grinning. And my heart overflows of gratefulness to my Lord and Saviour that He trusted this little boy in my care although I'm failing Him every single day again and again, but also again and again I am forgiven of my short comings, imperfections, my sins. I regret I exploded like a champagne bottle when Ned threw himself down on the ground screaming just outside the dinning room, I ask for forgiveness. I receive it. I'm grateful!! I'm so grateful for every single second my two little boys can be with me, actually not forgetting my third boy, Ben.... there are so many reasons to thankful for, so many, beyond counting. Why do I so easily forget and get caught up in frustrations and irritations?? But oh how good it is for the soul to receive forgiveness anew, every time I ask for it. Thank you, Lord!

Rock'n Roll

You might think me silly, but I’d never really taken the Mediterranean seriously. I mean, on hearing the word “Mediterranean” I started thinking of holidays, sunshine, ice cream, beaches, goooood food and the like. Now the Atlantic on the other hand, I’d rather think of as the “macho” guy as Oceans go, you know, tough, hard, stormy, strong, grrrr… you get my meaning??? Well, I crossed the Atlantic on a ship for something like 13 days and it felt like a river cruise down the Danube, as smooth as it can be. And now the Mediterranean… uhm, I changed my mind… COMPLETELY!!! I mean even the bible tells us of great storms in the Mediterranean, still it didn't really sink in that it can be rather rough. From the time leaving the harbour of Valetta there was nothing smooth or gentle or holiday like, but Rock’n Roll… big times Rock’n Roll!!! Luckily I DID take a seasick tablet, so I didn’t feel sick at all, but still, it was rough sailing. Some friends I didn’t see at all others looked rather, uhm, green around their noses and other people again thought it was great fun and cheered at every rolling wave (weird sense of humor). My cabin alone looked like a robbery had just happened. Drawers came shooting out (and missed me by a meter), for precaution I’d put the microwave on the floor, the kettle was sitting in the sink, an extra pillow was stuffed inside the cupboard with the cups and plates to make them stop moving and sliding around and making annoying sounds, the bed started to gallop around the cabin so I put the mattress on the floor and tried to stay on it for sleeping, in Ned’s room I’d also taken out all the drawers, preventing them from shooting out at him, unfortunately he decided it was great fun to take every single piece of cloth out of the drawers line up on the floor and putting those items all over the cabin instead of sleeping. Mother was NOT pleased with him, NOT pleased AT ALL!!! The folding chairs would just not stay in the spot where I tucked them away and the laptop I’d preferred putting on the floor as well. I had tidied up the cabin before sailing and had to do it all over again once we arrived.

As I said, I wasn’t seasick, but I was rather tired and out of energy, unfortunately sailing didn’t have the same effect on a two year old I know, and now try entertaining the same two year old if all you want to do is lie down and chill. After dinner though I went to a lobby area on deck 5 where everyone seemed to hang out because it was one of the most stable places on board and there were many other kids to play with, hallelujah!!! It was great fun watching those kids run around like crazy: when the ship was rolling to one side they’d run uphill and when it rolled to the other side they’d run downhill. One little girls even started twirling around which made me feel slightly nauseous just thinking about it.

To get offspring up to our cabin on deck 7 and away from the other kids I couldn’t think of anything else than to bait him with the promise of a bath. I couldn’t fill in much water though, because it was rolling so much from left to right and right to left and back again, but he still enjoyed it… at least until the time when he leaned over the side of the little bath tub just when it was rolling towards that side and the whole thing including the kiddo fell over. No tear though…

Ced was as happy a chappy you could wish for, except that he decided to puke his entire evening bottle all over me, the positive side was that milk exploding out of his nose must have cleared out his air ways up there and the nose was no longer blocked.

My Malta Ambition

I'm not a very ambitious person, especially recently with having to take care of two kids all alone, because husband left me for a couple of days. Almost the only thing I'm cabable of doing is trying to entertain an adorable, sometimes very demanding or even slightly annoying, two year old. Cedric is as easy going as you can wish for, Ned, uhm, well... isn't :o) You might smile at me, but my only "ambition" for our time here in Malta was taking a good picture of one of the famous yellow Malta buses. And as we will be sailing on tomorrow, today was THE day to do it. If you ever tried taking photographs with a toddler in tow you might understand why I call it "ambitious", if you never had that pleasure you might just only think me silly, but I digress (nice word, I only learned it a couple of days ago:o) ).

Plan A was to get the kids ready, go to breakfast and then head to the bus station straight away. When I was woken up by my very cute alarm clock slightly earlier than the last couple of days(at 7:40am, due to a nasty cold and a blocked nose, poor fellow), I opened my curtains and immediately cancelled plan A. It was raining cats and dogs. Unfortunately I didn't really know what plan B could be, so I thought: "wait and see!!" Just before 11am it stopped, so I thought I'd grab the chance, stuffed the (not so) little one in the sling, put my camera in its bag, collected the stroller, finally made it down the gangway (almost falling off it at the end, oops), sitting Ned in his "Porsche" and off we went.

There is a neat little "short cut" from the the ship to down town Valetta: You go through a little tunnel, then you end up on a big car park, from there you take the lift up to street level, and there you are, almost as good as in down town Valetta. Well, entering the tunnel on one side the ground was slightly wet but it wasn't raining and looked rather friendly. Exiting on the other side though, it was pouring down again. Great!!! My umbrella was in our cabin, a very useful place for a umbrella to be in if you're outside and it's pouring down. Luckily I met two girls from the ship and they lent me theirs or else I would have aborted my mission and gone back to the ship lamenting over my ambitious failure of taking a photo of a Maltese bus. Now pushing a stroller, carrying a baby in a sling and holding a umbrella in the pouring rain, that's what I call multi-tasking, and when reaching the bus station level it ceased raining, I gave it a go and added another thing to my multi-tasking: taking a photo of a yellow bus of course! Once I walked over to the bus stops and had my camera out though, it REALLY started to rain, and I don't mean a nice little drizzle, I mean RAIN, bucket loads of rain, pouring down on us!! I managed to take three of four pictures before I was too afraid that my camera would drown. I don't have a rain cover for Ned's stroller only a little sun roof, which held the water off slightly, but he got so soak that he stated the obvious: "Mama, wet, cold". So, now it was really time to call it a day, and as I was pretty wet already I just marched back to the lift through the rivers of rain water on the road, BUT my ambitious Malta Mission had been successful: I DID take a photo, no, not even only one, but Four photos of a Maltese bus :o)

Yesterday, oh what a day!!!

Well, yesterday, was quite a day. First of all I got up before my baby and not because of him, was left by my husband but not for ever, had a 8,4kg baby on the arm and dragged a 15kg screaming toddler behind me up some stairs, was soaked in baby puke twice, the baby happened to be my own, ahm, could neither clean him nor myself with water because there WAS no water, had too much coke zero intake, and chocolate as a matter of fact, and the day ended with a nice chat with a good friend.
While my baby boy, as well as my other two boys slept well until 8am, silly me decided to get up at 6am, grab the camera and hit town together with a friend. It was worth it in the end, but the getting up part is soooo difficult, especially if baby sleeps and so could you. But as I said, it was worth it.

There are more photos on our Picasa Web Album, the link is somewhere here on the sidebar, if you'd like to check them out :o).

I wanted to write more, but my eye lids shut on me, so I should hit the sack. Just a finishing final note, not that you get worried, Ben didn't leave me but flew ahead to sort out some more details in our next port of call, Tripoli. So we'll be re-united again Wednesday. Ned's missing his dad and asks for him quite often and is more clingy than he used to be, but poor little chap, it has been quite some changes in the last week and now daddy's gone as well...

well, night night from my part of the world

The power of words

I hate to admit, but I'm one of those people who verbally vents their frustrations and anger. Maybe not a bad thing in itself, "Better out than in" as SHREK used to say in the first movie but words are powerful and leave an impact. There are so many unnecessary word being said, so many negative words, hurting words, pain-inflicting words, crushing words... killing words. Quickly said but remembered forever. And I am guilty of this crime, I've committed it over and over again. Partially because I'm a rather sarcastic human being and partially because that's how I let frustrations out so that I feel better. The day before yesterday I was convicted how sinful and hurting this behaviour actually is.

I was frustrated, actually with my husband, who wasn't even aware I was frustrated with him and later on I discovered that it wasn't even his fault why I was frustrated with him (does that make sense??). Anyway, here I was mumbling and grumbling to myself standing in line for the food (one of the many things I seemed to have forgotten about ship's life). And so often if you're in a mood because of one thing you are in a "mood" in general, at least it is with me, I guess I'm a bit of a moody person, but I digress. So here I was slowly making my way to get our food and then I came to dessert: cookies... AND there was a ONE EACH sign. I HATE one each signs, they bring out the worst in me. I eat cookies, but generally I don't like them soooo much. These particular ones didn't look attractive to me at all, but that stupid sign made me take one just because I was only ALLOWED one, so I better take MY cookie even if I don't like it. I know it is silly, but those signs make me mad, my suggestion would be: "Consider others" or "Others would like to have some as well" or "What if you were in line a bit later and there wasn't any cookies left, how would you feel??" or "What would Jesus do???"... I would NOT have taken the cookie which I didn't want in the first place and didn't like when I eventually ate it. So I was grumbling and mumbling even more. Then I reached the salad bar and like a good girl put my greens on and other stuff to make a nice salad just to discover that there wasn't any oil and vinegar to mix your own dressing only one ready mixed dressing. So I was even more mumbling and grumbling in a loud sarcastic voice until I heard a voice behind me "What's the problem?". The chief cook stood there. At this very moment I realized my sinful behaviour, but stubborn as I am I stood my ground and complained that there was no vinegar and oil that I didn't like the ready made dressing and so on. I started feeling slightly miserable in addition to being frustrated and mumbling and grumbling. When I sat down at our table the chief cook himself brought me oil and vinegar. I felt even more miserable and convicted about my bad behaviour, and humbled. He must have overheard my mumbling and grumbling and complaining. We are supposed to be light and encouraging and not mumblers and grumblers (I'm pretty sure that there even is a bible verse about this, but it slipped my mind). In the evening I knocked at his cabin door and said sorry and asked for forgiveness. He looked sad and low in spirits, which most probably wasn't because of my vinegar/oil complaint but it made me feel even more miserable. Here is this man, coming to the ship with his wife and 3 kids to serve God in the way of providing food for over 400 people from over 40 different nations, and I don't know how it is in your family but in my family it was even difficult for my mum to cook in the way, that husband and us two kids would be happy, now just imagine you have to do that for so many people from all over the world and some of them can be rather verbal in their dislikes and displeasures like me.... man, you have to have a skin like an elephant not to feel affected by those criticisms. It made me realize that I am called to serve and not to be serve, to encourage, not to de-courage, to lift up not to pull down. Maybe he was just plain tired and didn't feel at all how I interpreted it, but it made me think... and made me feel even more miserable and horrible than I felt when going over there to apologize to him.

God gives us conviction but he doesn't want us to feel miserable and bad because of it, but rather to change our behaviour and do something about it. Feeling bad does neither help nor do any good whatsoever just makes us dwell on our own imperfection, sins and failures, instead of focusing on our Creator and the Forgiver of all sins. This conviction has to trigger a reaction, a plan of action how to change and then do it. I know change takes its time, but I don't wanna stay that mumbling, grumbling discouraging person. I can't change the world but I can change my actions to be a better ambassador of Christ, who died on the cross for my imperfection, MY sins. Words are something beautiful but like with everything created the devil abuses them and he uses even God's children to use them in a destructive way. I don't want to "obey" him though anymore, I want to use words how God intended them to be used: to uplift, to encourage, to point out beauty, to say positive things, but sometimes also for criticism, constructive criticism, not to de-courage but to truly trying to help improving... I can't really express what I mean, but sometime you have to say something, which you really don't want to do, but is the right thing to do.

We learned the last days that there is an Arabic word which is something like "Samechmi" which means "Forgive me" and you say it when you part with someone, in case you've done something wrong you weren't aware of. I thought that's a beautiful custom and I want to say "Samechmi" to YOU whoever YOU are in case I have wronged you knowingly or unknowingly and especially if I have hurt you verbally in any way. I want to change and think before I talk.

Well, on that note:

Samechmi and as-salaamu 'alaykum (Forgive me and Peace be upon you!.... hmmm I guess I have to un-dust my twenty words of Arabic to be ready for the next couple of ports....)

"So I say to you: Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you." (Luke 11:9)

Why do babies always stop smiling once you have the camera out and ready?????

More of Malta

the fists couple of days here in the Mediterranean the weather was rather miserable, so one really didn't have any desire to go outside to explore, especially with only having arrived and one kid sick and so on, but today blue skies greeted the eye when I finally woke up at around 8am and had to WAKE UP my baby as well as my toddler at ten past, so that we would be able to make it down in time for breakfast which finishes at 9am. Can you believe it?? I had to wake up my baba in the morning?? It felt a bit wrong, but he had slept 9 hours and if I hadn't woken him up, our daily routine would have been even more messed up... but I don't complain, hahaha.

At breakfast I met two other mum's and we decided to go to a near-by playground and to the golden M afterwards (aka McDonald's). I managed to be ready (almost) in time, Baby strapped to my belly in his sling, Ned in his stroller and emergency backpack on my back, thinking I had all essentials with me, only later I discovered that I had carried the full thermal bottle with hot water, a small bottle with cold water and the formula power all in vain, because super-mum forgot to bring the baby bottle, uhm.... in the same backpack I also had my big digital SLR, which also just went for a walk without being used, it's somehow a bit challenging to take pictures with a baby strapped to your front, so I was too lazy to do so.

After a looong playtime at the playground we went on to McDonald's and I discovered that Maltese do not believe in queuing, no, NOT at all. I mean we Germans aren't the best queuers ourselves but but if there is a queue, normally even we Germans obediently stay in line and don't push in just infront of someone else. Things like that make me, uhm, a bit "boiling" mad. When we finally had all our Happy Meals, all kids sorted out and and seated in place it was rather funny, that I had to tell my boy: "Ned, you first have to eat your Cheeseburger and a couple of fries before you can open your toy". Force feeding at McDonald's?????

When we were back on board I thought: " Surely that kid of mine has to be soooo tired after so much running" and oh how wrong I was. I really WANTED him to sleep as there is a special training on which is kind of compulsory to go to, but I also wanted to go to. So I stuck him in bed, fed the little one and thought I quickly go to the training for a little time and then go back to the cabin to check on Ned, because he was still awake when I left. When I came back he had almost taken his cabin apart. All his clothes, which normally are nicely folded in a drawer, were spread all over the room and he cheekily (or sheepishly???) grinned at me. It slowly made me "boiling" again. I threatened that I'd take his beloved Hermie-teddy if he didn't stay in bed. I stayed in our cabin and did little bits and pieces and when I checked on him the next time, he'd started to take the covers off his beddings.... hmmmmggrrrrrr.... but as he indeed stayed in bed, he could keep Hermie. Now it is quiet over there, but I'm a bit reluctant to check on him, fearing what might meet my eyes....

We have arrived...

... safe and sound and even settled in already. It is great, weird, awesome, crazy, normal, funny, exciting and many more things to be back on board Logos Hope here in Malta. When we first arrived I thought: "Man, WHY did we come???" But that's a notion I have most of the times when arriving after travelling and being exhausted and tired. The travel was neither bad nor long, but still exhausting. My big bro Daniel brought us to the airport (Thanks!!) and I was busy on the back seat entertaining Ned and trying to keep Ced sleeping and was wondering how I would survive. Arriving on the airport, Ned insisted on pushing his own stroller, and as we had our hands full with baby, thousands of suitcases and two trolleys we just let him do it, and he managed not to run anyone over, but there were a couple of close shaves :o).

On the airport already I realized that his nose started to run a bit, and later-on the eyes started to water, and the next day he had a cold, fully on, a real waterfall coming out of his nose and his eyes were so teary, that he would tell me: "Eyes, crying!" and he wanted me to wipe them, poor little chap.

He was a good little boy most of the time, but hadn't slept all day, and slowly we were able to feel that. Luckily the flight was only 2 1/2h, unfortunately though, we were delayed for 1/2h, and for you and me 1/2h isn't much but for you or me travelling with one or even two kids 1/2h feel like eternity, but we did survive and Ned happily entertained several other passengers on the flight while running up and down the aisle for the first half of the flight up until dinner. Unfortunately our row was the very last one to have dinner cleared away and we'd noticed quite some time before we could get up and out, that someone was, uhm, a bit SMELLY, but we had to sit there and wait and then he had fallen sleep... only 1/2h before touch down!! He was NOT pleased with us waking him up to get out of the plane, NOT at all, and he let us and everyone within50 miles know about it. We were the last passengers to leave the air plane and the Capitan actually carried my carry-on case down the stairs as Ben had his hands full with an upset two year old :o)

Getting our luggage and getting out happened really quickly and within no time we were sitting in the car, heading towards the ship and getting out at the other end again, still with a not very happy two year old. He was so scared, I think, that he was clinging to me like a little monkey and every time someone wanted to say hello to me the siren would go on again... I felt soooo sorry for him, being sick, tired and all... once we were in the cabin he refused to have his shoes taken off, or as a matter of fact anything taken off, but he still, uhm, smelled really badly, so I had to, and ou how signal-red that poor butt of his was. I finally managed to get him in bed, snuggle in next to him and help him fall asleep which he did until 9 o'clock only waking up once at 5. Ben camped on the floor in Ned's cabin for the first night.

Well, and now we're here and it feels like we'd never left, okay some people are different, but there still heaps of people around we know (or who know Ned) and it's great to chat and catch up. Ned's been soooooooooo much better, made already a couple of new friends and his nose isn't as runny anymore. Ced's as easy-going as can be, he let us sleep for 8h last night (good on ya boy!!) and is just happy watching people and smiling at them.

My dis-likes and likes...

I'm thinking about our going to the ship a lot lately (fancy that, I mean d-day is tomorrow) and I wondered what I was looking forward to and what, uhm, not so. Somehow often it is so much easier to focus on dis-likes, on the uncomfortable, the not so nice, the things one hates:

• the travel to get there... okay it is very short compared with what we have travelled before, but still, this time we have two kiddos
• not being able to cook myself
• living in a small cabin
• lots of noise around
• Ben being gone from Saturday until Wednesday and I have to deal with two kids on my own in a new environment AND a voyage (okay, I do know the ship, but it'll be so different now, e.g. having two kids, living there only temporarily, many new people)
• food with tuna in it
• chicken and rice (or hopefully they don't have that on Logos Hope..???)
• not being able to go out by myself
• having to wear cultural appropriate clothing (long sleeves and long pants and high neck line)
• and last but not least, still having to finish packing

BUT, I do NOT want to focus on the negative aspects, I want to be positive, encouraging, rejoicing, radiating joy and the love of Jesus, humorous, flexible, teachable, open.

• My friends... man, I'm SO much looking forward catching up with you guys, uhm, girls :o)
• Christian input every day
• being able to go down to deck 4 and just have a chat with people
• fundeck (hahaha) he hasn't had to many opportunities to play with others his own age
• experience new cultures and people
• Adventure
• Seeing God at work in my life as well as in the ministry and in people around me
• the library
• great photography opportunities and maybe being able to learn from others
• seeing God's amazing creation, His signature
• international community
• English worship
• having many babysitters at hand, hahaha
• unique food experiences (uhm, I hope I can cope)
• seeing the changes of the last year... I'm sure there must have been many changes, hopefully more positive ones than negative ones
• catching up :o)
• the voyage
  (hopefully it'll be smooth)

See?? There are many more positive points, and I'm pretty sure there are many more which I've forgotten. I am very grateful that we have this opportunity to visit the ship again, once I see beyond all the things which still needed to be done before leaving, that is:o)))). Well, I should go now and get done those many hundreds of things I have to get done before we'll be picked up by my brother tomorrow at 1430h, sigh... it'll be a late night once again....

Life just snaps back into "normal", but with a grateful heart

One moments your life is shaken to the core and the next you're busy again being concerned getting all those millions of things packed which I deem to need in our 6 weeks on board the Logos Hope.

My dad was discharged out of hospital on Wednesday, I even had the honour of taking him home after staying with him for the afternoon together with Cedric. He's doing really fine, he is very, VERY grateful to have bit longer here on good old earth and he's happy to be back home again. It's weird that he's back home within 2 days of discovering his heart condition. Theoretically he would have been able to even leave on Tuesday, but the wound, where they had stuck in the heart catheter had been bleeding a bit, so he had to stay one more day. He's still a bit sore and has problems walking, which was to be expected (but came as a surprise for my good old dad), but heart-wise no problem whatsoever. Mum and dad wanted to spend some more time with Ned before we leave for the ship so I left Ned with them on Wednesday and picked him up again today. I tried to explain to him that Opa has a bad AUA on his tummy, and he really was concerned about Opa and would say now and then: "Opa, aua, belly" but once he saw my dad and was shown the band-aid, which isn't very big nor impressive, he couldn't really understand, why Opa could carry him, or bend down to him or do all the things Opa normally would do with him. When I was leaving from their place, I told Ned again that he had to be "lieb" (nice) to Opa, because Opa was sick, and when my mum called me yesterday she told me, that at one point he remembered that he had to be nice and said: "Opa, lieb!" (Heart-melting-moment).

Well, and I am busy getting ready to leave for 6 weeks again, how I despise packing my life in a couple of suitcases, but I guess that's the price you pay for living a rather not-so-normal life, but rather one which is a bit more adventurous. I have to admit, sometimes it overcomes me and I would love to be a bit more normal, living in a home, not just a temporary place which we call home but doesn't really feel like a home because you don't wanna put much finances or effort into making it nice an comfy because you know you'll be leaving again soon. Here I am, admitting it, that at times I do COVET a normal life, living in your own house, being able to hamster things (or resources how my dad-in-law calls it.... you never know when you might need it again). The weeks leading up to a travel, no matter where it goes and for how long I will be gone, is always the worst. I do NOT want to go (no matter how exciting the travel destination might be), I do NOT want to PACK, I do NOT want to do all those things need doing before you leave for some time, but I guess that's a necessary part of my rather adventurous life... at least partially adventurous, at times it can be rather boring and normal, which I do enjoy as well :o)

One thing which I had to get done before leaving is getting started with vaccinations for Ced, so yesterday we made our way to the Paediatrician for a generally check up.... Well, I have to tell you that my 3 months old is "Mr. Micheline-Man 2010", I knew he was, uhm, rather big, but not that big: he sports proud 8,4kg on the scales with 64cm in hight. Ned is 15kg.... so Ced weighs already more than half of Ned's weight. Ned was big when he was a baby, but I think Ced's bigger, he wears cloths for babies double his age, hmmm .... but he's a happy chappy and I hope he'll stretch out once he's walking :o)))) (Maybe it runs the family: When my big brother was a baby he could have won the award "Mr. Buddah 1974", and I have to admit, I wasn't no small baby either). Well, Mr. Micheline-man is generally a very happy bubba, doesn't cry much, loves to smile at you (especially with his milk bottle in his mouth) and makes the cutest baby noises ever, and he's quite a good sleeper, yesterday he let us sleep until almost 6:30am :o)

Well, as it is already 2 am I should go to bed now, I really should, my brain starts doing funny things to me, and hopefully bubba will let us sleep until 6:30 again... well, good night world....

Quick update

My dad had his surgery, the Stent is in place and he is recovering really well and might be discharged from hospital on Wednesday already, Praise and Thanks be to our God!!!!! They discovered that he even had a minor heart attack on Saturday. I am so grateful that I can have my dad bit longer, and Ned and Ced their Opa !!!

Could you pray??

Life happens!! One moment all you kind of worry about is those suitcases which need to be packed again (I hate packing) and then you get a phone call the the suitcases loose their significance and everything falls out of focus.

My dad's in hospital. My healthy dad, my dad who always jokes around, my dad who looks much younger then he is, MY dad. He had a feeling of pressure on his chest for the last couple of weeks now and then, but didn't really worry about it, because it would always go away again. I also wasn't too much worried, because bad things only happen to people we don't know, not to oneself or ones family, right?? I did ask him if it was in the area of the heart, but he said no, so I left it with that. Maybe I should have kicked my brain in gear and make him go to the doctor, but I didn't, because he said it wasn't in the area of the heart. He went to the doctor today though and my mum just called that he was send straight to the hospital to have surgery today. One of his heart vessel is narrowed, not totally blocked and he'll have one of those surgeries where they put a catheter in, don't know what it is called in English, but it isn't an open heart surgery or anything. It's such a shock. I guess all those things always come as a shock. We'll pray that everything will work out okay, but it is a comfort to know, that my dad is in God's almighty hands, no matter what happens, his name is written in the book of life, he knows that something better comes after he dies, that he will be with his Lord and saviour Jesus Christ. I don't wanna loose my dad, but if it was his time to go, I know where he's going and that I will see him again, once it is my time to go.

Do you know, where you will be going?? Where do YOU stand with God, the creator of heaven and earth?? I want to challenge YOU to think about it, because things like that don't have a pre-warning, they just happen and then it might be too late to think about it.

Old friends

I have to admit, I am a natural loner. I can do things alone without a problem, I don't suffer too much if I don't have contact with another human being, which is another human being besides my lovely husband or someone with whom you can have a normal conversation with sentences longer than 2 words (animal sounds, vehicle imitations and machinery noises do NOT count as words).

Honestly I don't mind! Sometimes I realize that I haven't had a conversation with anyone besides my husband and maybe our landlady in several days. I love to go roller balding alone, or for walks alone, or running alone (the other day I went for a run in the forest, at night and I was wondering if I'm kind of a bit "psycho", running alone in the dark in the forest, but I love it), in fact sometimes I think people can be so distracting and irritating :o) Often with strangers I feel uncomfortable and awkward, especially if you don't *CLICK* and all you can think of is talking about the weather (which of course is a very important topic, but after a couple of minutes you, again, don't have anything to say). Hmm, as you can see, I'm not so much a people person. I know I can talk like a book and "hide" behind it, saying many silly things just to avoid the dreaded silence, but still, everything feels stiff and awkward. With friends it's a totally different picture. If I have the chance to meet friends, meaning REAL friends, I love it. And with real friends you can even be silent together without feeling stupid or strange.

I have many friends all over the world and often we don't have much contact because of the great distance (another silly thing about me is that I hate phoning), but once we are together again, we pick up were we left it off. And I do soo much appreciate those friendships and wished those wonderful people weren't spread all over the world and we wouldn't have to have those breaks in between contact.

On Friday though I had a chance to pack my two boys in the car and go and meet one of my oldest and best of friends. She's one of four girls and as a teenager I loved visiting them A LOT. It had a feeling of "Pride and Prejudice", although I didn't know and love that novel back them. But imagine a house full with a mum who has problems hearing and four talkative girls who have to speak loudly, so that the mum would understand, I guess you get the picture :o). Sometimes it felt really good to be back in my quiet home again.

Well, my friend Liane got married and moved up north, and of course I also got married and moved around all over the place, so we don't have a chance to meet to often. Well, she's down south for a visit, and I grabbed the opportunity and packed the car with my two boys and all those couple thousands of things you really need for two kids and went to visit them. And it was like in the good old times: three of the four girls were present, the mum whose hearing hasn't improved, the quiet dad (whom you often forget because he is so quiet) and additional one husband and several kids. If I thought that it was loud back then, it was nothing compared with how it is nowadays:o)))) But nonetheless it was such a blessing catching up with old friends and knowing you're still friends although your lives have gone so different from each others.

Ned is much better with people than me, I think, he immediately grabbed Liane's husband Guido's finger and dragged him to the toys to play with him. Liane's dad got the same treatment. His comment was: "I never held a little boy!". Understandable, he himself had 4 daughters, and so far there are only granddaughters:o)))). Which might excuse the fact, that -when we went for a walk- Ned got himself a bright pink doll stroller and fell deeply in love with it :o)