Noodling

I am having the most leisurely vacation ever. Which is sort of odd, considering that I'm also getting a lot of work done. There's something about being home - the telephone ringing, emails coming in, grocery shopping, unloading the dishwasher or cycling the laundry, letting the dogs out, planning to do any of those or a thousand other things any minute now - that makes it hard to feel totally relaxed. Whereas here, wow. I screwed up my recovery from jet lag with a mid-day nap, but I still have had time for work, and a wee sightseeing stroll, and breakfast, and a few hours in an internet cafe, and some reading. I don't have the energy for some of the hikes or the garden climbs in the area, but just noodling about is really pretty okay; I'm not a German history or culture buff, so i won't wither away if I miss an essential monument or twenty.

I had an adventure today trying to find a tailor with absolutely no German at my command, and once I found one, explaining what I wanted and finding out how much it cost and when it would be done. It's been...more than a decade since I travelled anywhere where I couldn't at least stumble about in the lingua franca (if we can call English one of the linguae francae of India, as much as it's got any) and the exciting combination of a five-word vocabulary (hello, please, thank you, yes, no), cognate guesswork, and pantomime (plus diagrams, and a quick note from the concierge that said, "I would like these pants taken up" in German) got me to the shoe repair shop, where they sent me to the tailor, who had me try the pants on and pinned them, and told me they would be ready Monday. I feel a disproportionate sense of excitement and accomplishment about it all, as I am usually more likely to just decide not to do something than to make a fool of myself trying. I keep trying to tell myself that I am an educated person and I know many things, and that German is just not among them. But that's not very comforting when one is in Germany and less articulate than the average two-year-old, if better-behaved.

On my way to the tailor, I ambled out to the old bridge, where there is a statue of a monkey holding a mirror, and some mice. Rumor has it that touching the mirror means you will return to Heidelberg, touching the monkey's fingers is good for wealth, and that touching the mice is good luck for fertility. I took my gloves off and dutifully touched the monkey (trying not to think about Dieter from Saturday Night Live and failing) on his nose (forgetting which bit was essential), the mirror (why not?), and then I touched the mice, not just because we want two kids, but because I know so many people from my online conception/pregnancy/parenting board and elsewhere who are having trouble conceiving and carrying to term. I thought of them all and petted the wee brass mice and hoped it might help. It can't hurt, anyway; I might go back again in a few days (the statue's not far) and think about a few more people I forgot in the first round. And maybe hit those monkey fingers, because wealth is nice, too.

Yesterday I took a steep hike up to the ruined castle and puttered about there for 45 minutes or so around sunset. Very pretty, very ruined. Of course, my favorite parts were the frescoes that had the funny expressions. See, when we travel, Himself always comes back with beautiful human interest portraits and stunning architectural shots and suchlike, photos that really capture the flavor of a place. Whereas I end up with rolls full of brass mice and silly lion sculptures. Half my India photos were goats in tuktuks and donkeys eating rubbish. I am a photographic Philistine.