Amsterdam

Thank you to everyone that provided feedback from my last post. It was difficult to write, as it is trying times. Trying not just for me, but for my family as well. I'll be home soon and I cannot wait!! One thing that I discovered in writing the last post may be embodied in a picture that I've shared in Facebook. It is as true now as it was back then: No matter how dirty (filthy, hot, cold, rotten, &c) life gets to be, the most important things in life always shine through.

So, that brings us to Sunday of last week. We had the day off and made the choice to drive to Amsterdam. The drive would have been more fun had it not been raining, but oh well. Being the history nerd that I am, I wanted to find one historic spot in town and make that the initial destination. The last time, in Brussels, we went to see some little boy-statue take a whiz. This time the destination was a bit more sobering: the house where Anne Frank and her family hid. Here is what the house looks like today:

Their hiding place is in the back. There is a museum right next door, but the line to get in was very long. Maybe the next time that I'm in town... Speaking of which, the parking there is quite an adventure as well. We happened to be in the middle of old downtown and parking sucked. We managed to find a spot a few blocks from the museum and the shops that we were hoping to visit. Parallel parking in Amsterdam can be hair-raising:

Nothing like parking a brand new Beammer inches, okay a foot, from a canal. After stopping by the museum, we headed to the heart of downtown. It reminded me of Belgium, what with the cobble stoned streets and a veritable melting pot of languages. Coffee shops, chocolateers, and souvenir shops were all over the place. Every store had someone who could speak English, so it was easy to get to the next location, well that and a hungry bum Glen bribed with a Bratwurst and 20 Euro. Looks like Gen had a great time:

A shot down one of the many canals in town:

Most of the buildings are over 300 years old in the downtown area. I'm sure that there are many more that are even older. Traveling to these different cities is one nice benefit to working in Europe. I'd sure like to take my wife there one of these days. First we'll go to Vegas!!! Amsterdam was a pretty cool town. Nothing like I've read or heard about. Just a busy, crowded town with European flair...

Dank U for reading. Two more days left!!!

Kevin

Melancholy and the Infinite Sadness

Pensive at times, and most often melancholy is the overwhelming feeling that I feel starting the second week of an install. Pensive: trying to ensure that I am doing the best that I can for my family, moreover that I am providing for a better future for Katie Jo and Kyle. Is the job enough sacrifice of the body and mind to ensure that they're future selves are going to be okay? Can we mentally survive the self-inflictive pain whilst apart? It is tough, waking in the middle of the night, after a bad dream, or wandering thought, to wake up and find only a cold side of the bed for "comfort." The thought that my better half is awake and busy at work provides some comfort, knowing that she is slogging through her day, providing relief and sometimes angst for the patients seen at her clinic. Some comfort, but I am not able to talk to her, let alone reach out to her. All I can do is answer nature's call and keep the goal in mind: Successful completion of my mission, on time, such that I am able to escape this segment of my life, for the time being. Nothing provides a better motivation than missing one's family. Knowing that I have a goal to getting back with the ones that I love, provides me with the strength to carry on. Be it through sickness, bloody hot conditions, or tedium in the repetitive days, insomuch as that the days of the week mean nothing. Each day that I wake up means the same, damn thing: quick breakfast of whatever, some caffeine plus the adrenaline-rush of the Autobahn, followed by a brutally hard day at the office:

Cold and dreary it is. Perfectly suited for my mood. The trip started difficult enough: a large lump in my throat, tears just behind the eyelids, as I bade farewell to my wife and kids. I am not sure why it was so tough this go-around, it just was. Even now I am torturing myself with music that affects my mood: "Pictures of You," by The Cure; and "Tangled Up in You," by Aaron Lewis. Reinforcement of the mood, and who knows what dreams may come.

Times like these are tough on me, and for my wife. We both understand our situation and do our best to put the best face on things. Truth is, that being away from her and the kids is probably the hardest thing I've had to deal with, and I do so often. Harder than saying, "Tootles," to my family and Uncle Larry at the airport when I left for boot camp; harder than saying goodbye to family after a visit to MN; and as hard, yet less acute, than saying farewell to a family member just before they pass on.

Infinite sadness, as such there is not much I can do to alleviate the pain. Talking with my wife every day is the de facto highlight of said day and the ever present drive to finish the tasks at hand, are all that I can do. But no matter what, the sadness remains in the background. In the background, that is until I lay down to rest for the evening. Luckily I am exhausted from a long day at work and usually have an adult beverage, or four, in my system to help with the transition from the waking bad dream to others after the world gets dark. Nights are the worst by far. Just imagine if you will: A bad dream occurs, in which there is much despair around you. You do not know why things are down, or what you can do about it. The feelings intensify to the point that you awake to a dark room, cold pillows next to you, when all you want is a familiar warm body next to you, to hug, to make the feeling dissipate. Then fucking reality sets in: you're all alone in a strange hotel room, thousands of miles and up to 14 time zones away from the one person that can alleviate the pain.

** SIGH ** sorry for being such a Debbie Downer, but I just need an outlet for the way that I am feeling at the moment (shut up already, Robert Smith!!!). Just got word that I get to come back to Germany not long after getting back home from this current trip. Long enough to get back to Mountain Standard Time and long enough to enjoy being with the one, and ones, that I love.

Is it all worth it???

Time will tell. I pray often that the choices that I make pay off to the betterment of the kids and of the family. If that means that I suffer a heavy heart for a weeks at a time, then it will be well worth it.

Thanks for reading,

Kev

Marl-Oberhausen, Germany

It has been a busy week, what with the 12-hour days and a missing crate of mandatory material. Working in Germany, or any foreign country for that matter, is quite a bit different than working in the States. Our contacts have certain rules to abide by: They must take breaks at certain times (yes, union dudes in the States do, but they leave us behind) and we have to go with them, as we are escorted. Their smoking room is about a half a kilometer away and all of them smoke. I'm the smart one: I get my nic-fit relieved second-hand... Chemiepark, Marl(NW of 51°40′N 7°07′E)is a location of modern day history and our main contact is a fellow history nerd.

Allow me to digress: Walking back from the aforementioned smoke shack, Herr Meyer related a story about his niece. It goes something like this: She was playing on her bike near her home when she discovered a metal coke bottle. She being a fun-seeking 9 year old, she tied a string to the bottle and the other end to her bike, in order to drag the noise-maker behind her. After cruising for a spell down the street with the metal bottle behind her, she her a "POP!!!," from behind her. When she turned around, the coke bottle was gone, in it's place was a dust cloud. Turns out that the coke bottle was a German grenade from WW 2. And it also turns out that her story is fairly common around these parts. I guess the kids getting splinters at the park is not as big a deal as dragging a grenade behind the ole bike... I about pooped myself when he told me that story. Munitions turn up all of the time in Germany. You actually need a special permit in order to certify that your property is clear, or has been cleared, of munition before you can build on your property. Heck, Herr Meyer even related a story of how his neighbor had a 500 pound bomb encased in concrete, vice having it removed from his basement! Geez, what a conversation starter at a party: Didja ya know that you're standing above a 500-pound bomb? Care for more punch? Or moreover: Wussten Sie, das Sie uber ein 500 pfund Bombe steht? Pflege fur mehr Druck?

Every day, our main contact expects to see American bombers busting out of the clouds to drop their loads on the chemical park. I'm sure his parents were a part of that horror. SO here is the picture that I had alluded to in a prior Facebook post:

Herr Meyer told a story on how people would crowd into these bomb shelters and would be trapped inside by debris. If someone from the outside was assigned to that bunker and they survived the bombing, then that person would be responsible for clearing the rubble in order for the people to get out. They've monuments around this area for the 20+ people (whole families included) that died in the bunkers after a bombing raid. A little piece of history that has not been revealed, until now. True, the German people let a lunatic run and ruin their country, but there were plenty of dead people that were innocents. Stories such as this one are common throughout Germany, Poland, Belgium, The Netherlands, and France.

More pictures for you:

The different colored bricks show when the bomb damaged buildings were repaired. How many times they were repaired is unknown.

This building, and several like it, still shows the battle scars of either bomb blasts or from bullets.

An old warehouse that has not been used since the '40's. Right next to the warehouse is the concrete bomb shelter. The walls are at least 6 feet thick and are reinforced with rebar. The building has not been touched since WW 2, along with several others throughout Chemiepark, Marl. Ghost Adventures would have a good time in this location, eh?

The boiler itself is quite small, maybe 30 feet each side. Most of the ones we work at are 45 - 60 feet on each side. And, of course, it is an outdoor plant. A fun time to be sure, at a latitude the same as Alaska. The sun doesn't get very high in the sky during the day. I'd say about the same as the 8 - 9 o'clock sun in Colorado. The darn thing rises about 9 AM and sets by 4 PM. Strange. And to top it off, the MDC and Rack are located inside of the 700 foot smokestack.

Well, another day is about to show up in about 90 minutes. Can't wait, maybe I'll sleep through the transition... Hopefully our crate of missing things will show up tomorrow.

Thank you for reading,

Kevin

Cholla and the Start of Germany

My apologies for missing the second half of the New Mexico-Arizona visit. I've been getting ready for the latest German trip and celebrating the new year with the family. That trip was as fast and furious as it was tedious and boring. The drive from Grants to Holbrook seems longer than the 2.5 hours that passes on the dashboard clock. At least the scenery is pretty.

I am taken aback by the beauty that we (most of the time I travel with a colleague) see nearly every morning when arriving at a power plant. The thought of having to work for 10+ hours a day in a filty-hot environment makes it difficult to get out of bed in the morning; however the natural beauty of a sunrise makes one forget the unpleasantness of the place. Those brief interludes, if we're lucky enough to see a sunset, and talking with my wife are the only positives during a day while on the road. I suppose that this is a way of "stopping to smell the roses." Working at Jake's Pizza in Montevideo, MN (BTW: Mmmmmmmm!!!) is where I gained an appreciation of the natural beauty of a sunset. No one working in that kitchen even noticed that the sun was setting, until we caught a real beauty not long after a thunderstorm. From that time onwards, the kitchen crew made an effort to pause and take notice. It made the chaos of the pizza kitchen a little easier to handle.

The border between Arizona and New Mexico, on I-40, is really scenic. The following picture doesn't really do it justice, as the vivid colors from the sunrise were remarkable:

And now I am writing to you from a nice Best Western in Oberhausen, Germany. Jet lag is still kicking my butt and is being abetted by one Mr. Jim Beam. The cloud cover and way-north latitude (parallel to the Aleutian Islands, for crying out loud) disable the viewing of sunrises and sun-settings. The only non-family related sense of joy is not Glen's beaming face (sorry), but the daily experience of another 5-series on Das Autobahn.

Yup, a wagon that moves like a silky, raped ape (weird analogy, but it gets up and moves quickly/smoothly). Running it in "Sport," mode sure brings a smile to our faces, except when we travel through construction. Then things get nerve-racking with the narrow lanes and friggin' semis. The high-speed jaunts between the hotel and the Chemiepark in Marl and few and far between. Heck, even the normally pulse-pounding drive from Frankfurt on the A3 was tempered due to all the rain. Oh well, sounds like we get Sundays off. Maybe we'll explore The Netherlands. More pix to come for sure...





For Brett:

Descent legroom for a change:

That's it for now. Interesting learning from the Chemipark that I'll share tomorrow.

Thank you for reading,

Kevin