NOTE: The following post is a bit different than my typical pieces here. You won’t find any talk about war, which is just crazy! 🙂 However, my husband and I are packing up to leave California and start a new chapter in our lives. Our personal histories are important too, and I wanted to pay a bit of tribute to that big step and give California a proper farewell salute. I hope you all enjoy it!
On February 3 of 2009, the city of Los Angeles got a new resident. A twenty-four-year-old hopeful who was searching for something. A lot of things, actually. I’d say one of the biggest things was nicer weather. Those Iowa winters had done me in, and I longed for sunny, salty ocean breezes, warmer days, and palm trees. Lots and lots of palm trees. Palm trees that, no matter how many years I’ve lived here, I always smile at the sight of them.
Two words a lot of us don’t like to mention, at least not out loud. And certainly not in front of people we’re trying to impress. Honestly, I think that’s what a lot of the madness boils down to these days. We’re all very afraid. And while some of us can hide our fears, lay them away, or at least pretend they don’t exist, sometimes, it’s not so easy. Sometimes, we have to face them in all their terrifying glory.
Vacation isn’t necessarily the time or place we expect to have to do that, but life does have a way of surprising us. When my husband and I traveled the Route 66 in the summer of 2019, I had the opportunity to face down a fear that has plagued me for far too long. I guess that’s one of the best parts about road trips. You never know where the day will lead you.
Welcome back from the Holidays! It certainly looked different for the M.B. Henry household this year, with Covid keeping us from our usual travels and family visits. We had little to do but watch Christmas movies, and I also cooked us a nice big meal on Christmas Eve. But the change of pace also allowed us some time to reflect. On our futures, since next Christmas, we will be living in a different state and our holiday season will come with big changes once again. And our pasts, which have included many travel adventures in addition to seeing family and friends.
Those memories and thoughts helped us get through a pretty bleak holiday season here in California, especially when we recalled Hofbrauhaus. If you’ve ever been to Munich, Germany, I’m sure you’ve heard of this delightful little pub, and probably visited it yourself. It has become a bit of a staple stop in the city, with its impressively sized beer steins and pretzels to match, along with lively German bands and delicious food. For us, it provided even more than a full belly.
In 2018, we took off for a long-planned and dreamed of trip to Europe for historical sight seeing and other major tourism stops, but things kicked off a bit rough. Our airline had a shortage of planes, which delayed us by several hours in Los Angeles, then by several hours more in Denmark. By the time we finally reached Berlin, we were exhausted, frustrated, and two days behind on an extremely tight schedule we hadn’t budgeted any travel mishaps in. We also had some uncharacteristically warm weather to deal with in Berlin, with temperatures soaring into the high 90s and low 100s Fahrenheit.
So you could say that the first few days of our dream trip, which saw us scrambling through blazing heat to get back on schedule, had us a bit put out. It wasn’t until we visited Hofbrauhaus that we finally got to slow down, smile, and let it set in that no matter what our schedule looked like or what we had to lay aside to get back on track, we were still on a wild adventure in a foreign land, and it was time to make the most of it.
So, this one’s for you, Hofbrauhaus. Thanks for the smiles and memories.
“Let Me Tell You Where I’ve Been” – Hofbrauhaus
Our flight to Europe was a mess, delayed time and again
We were a day and a half behind when we finally reached Berlin
The weather was hot, the city crowded, we felt lost and tired
We only managed a few hours before we got in the car and retired
But we couldn’t sleep, oh no, a long drive still lay ahead
To stay on schedule we couldn’t rest, no time for a soft, clean bed
We had to drive all the way to Munich, six or seven hours at least
And we had to quickly learn the Autobahn, that speedy highway beast
We didn’t reach Munich until very late, even dinner hour had passed
And we couldn’t much stand our tiny room, our sanity wouldn’t last
So we walked out onto the Munich streets, crowded despite the dark
We needed a place to sit for a spell, to try and recapture the spark
That’s when we found the Hofbrauhaus, warm and inviting inside
Wooden tables, music, and big beer steins, everyone smiling so wide
It felt a bit loud for my usual taste, but for food, it seemed like the best
Besides, I needed a chance to put my shaky German to the test
The Waiter frowned, looking quite tired, no English, from what I could tell
But I smiled and said “Ich Spreche Deutch,” (although certainly not very well!)
The man smiled wide, gave me a wink and a friendly clap on the back
He handed me a menu, helped us sit down, and our hearts opened up just a crack
I ordered a beer for my husband and me, and a pretzel the size of my head
It had been a long few days, I thought it would put me to bed
But then the Waiter struck up the band, and music filled the air
He also sent over a free platter of meat, and some samples of German fare
It finally hit me, sitting there, that despite the rough start to our trip
A dream was coming true before my eyes, with every little beer sip
A smile stretched across my face, my exhaustion broke all apart
The music, the people, the smiles, the food, it all went straight to my heart
There at Munich’s Hofbrauhaus, the adventure in me came awake
I felt at home in a faraway land, my nerves finally got a big break
When I think of the lively place today, I still manage to smile
With just a beer, some music, and a pretzel, they made me feel better by a mile
These photos provided by my husband Joel Henry. For more photos from our trip to Europe, click here.
To plan your own visit to Munich’s historic Hofbrauhaus, click here.
TO AMERICA, WITH LOVE
Both my husband and I were heartbroken and sick beyond belief to witness what unfolded at the US Capitol Building in Washington, D.C. last week. While it’s hard to find much of a silver lining right now, we hope and pray that these unprecedented events, at the very least, provide a stark wake-up call for some badly needed unity among the people of this country. Because it will take all of us working together to end injustice, inequality, and violence, along with the other dizzying struggles before us, like a pandemic that isn’t slowing down in the slightest. As gut-wrenching as it was to witness, we know and believe that love is so much more powerful than hate. And that will prevail in the end.
It’s a tale as old as time – or at least as old as the Great War. In 1914, on a frigid Christmas Eve in the middle of trench-scarred Western Europe, two warring armies took a time-out from lobbing shells and bullets at one another to light Christmas trees and sing carols together. A few of them exchanged gifts and photographs. Some soccer games with less deadly consequences than battles broke out. All in the middle of a battlefield littered with corpses, barbed wire, and shell craters.
We weren’t that far down the Route 66 when I saw the entry in our guide book. “Funk’s Maple Sirup.” I giggled to myself, thinking it must be a typo. But as I read a bit more about this lovely-sounding place, I realized two things. One – the spelling was intentional, a small nod to the woman who preserved her heavenly maple farmland for generations to come. Two – this place had homemade maple candy for sale.
Just the name provides a good idea of what awaits you in such a place. Towering, jagged rocks make for difficult climbs while the sun blasts on your back. Hills covered with brush, snarled trees, and stone monuments linger nearby. It’s isolated from the road, and a perfect place to twist your ankle if you don’t watch your step. And on July 2 of 1863, this piece of earth in the fields of Pennsylvania created a whole other level of horrible.
It’s a wild world out there right now. I don’t know about you guys, but I have found myself longing for somewhere quiet, somewhere green, somewhere peaceful. Since many of us can’t travel just yet, I feel lucky to have my many memories (and photographs) of the beautiful places I’ve been to give me a respite. So, this is a very special post for all of you out there who need something pretty and relaxing!
“Let Me Tell You Where I’ve Been” – Titlis Mountain
Lush grass covered the mountainside
Rain swirled thick in the air
A pure lake where blue and green collide
Cool breezes tussled my hair
An ice cave beckoned, neon blue in tone
Dripping water echoed all around
The frigid air cut me right to the bone
And the tight spaces held me bound
From the summit I could almost see the whole world
Through the blowing, swirling snow
One of the scariest bridges on earth unfurled
I just tried not to look down below
But what charmed me most about Titlis
That heavenly mountain of the Swiss
Was the tinkling, plinking musical bliss
Ringing here and there, hard to miss
Like a happy chorus of bells and chimes
They ring all across the land
They cover the mountains, so sublime
Like their own special kind of band
When I first heard the soothing but strange sound
I looked all around me in wonder
What is that noise that is so profound?
Ringing everywhere, over and under?
It was then that I peered in the valley below
And I saw them scattered in herds
The grazing cattle and their cute little bells
Calling to each other without words
Now when I’m stressed, or sad, or scared
I think of a sound in my head
One that brings me back to a gorgeous mountain lair
Where I had hot soup and delicious bread
A sound that conjures scenes and sights
Like something from a fantasy book
Rainbows of flowers and snow-capped heights
A shining lake, and a stunning overlook
The cowbells of Titlis always chime
And I play them when I’m feeling blue
I listen to them anywhere, anytime
And now I’ll share them with you
Turn the volume way up on that video!
Photos and video by M.B. Henry – for more from Switzerland and Europe, click here
Strap in, ladies and gents. We’re going nuclear, and it will be a lengthy post.
You wouldn’t think much to look at the place, at least not today. It’s simple and sparse. There’s a big pond, frequented by honking geese and ducks. Summer trees whisper in the dry breeze. Cafes and businesses have popped up over the years, mixed with the few remaining older buildings. Lovely homes line a street that some of the locals call “Bathtub Row” – once the only homes with bathing facilities. This small mesa, deep in the desert of New Mexico, doesn’t seem out of the ordinary.
Until you come upon the small monument near the town center. Statues of two men stand next to each other, one in uniform at military rigid attention, the other in a suit with an iconic Porkpie hat – General Leslie Groves, and Doctor J. Robert Oppenheimer. They forever remind curious onlookers that this is Los Alamos. This is where nuclear warfare got unleashed into an unwitting world.
When I was a little girl, my parents took me to visit the Little Brown Church in Nashua, Iowa. The church was built during the Civil War (makes sense, given the uptick in prayer around that time), and it still stands today. I felt immensely excited to explore a building that greeted humans all the way back in 1862. I marveled at the candle-lit, cozy space, imagining the decades’ worth of things that had transpired there. The weddings, funerals, family gatherings, baptisms, prayers, tears, and laughter. Even as a little girl, I felt such strong ripples of history inside that church. It was the oldest building I had ever stood in…
…Until I went to New York City about fifteen years later. There, I visited St. Paul’s Chapel of Trinity which was built in 1766. Back then, it was the tallest building in New York. Alexander Hamilton (“we are waiting in the wings for youuuuu!”) drilled troops on the lawn for the American Revolution. George Washington visited the church on his inauguration day, and he frequented St. Paul’s when New York served as the nation’s capital. While I stood in that building and looked out the window, my head spun at how the view must have changed over the years. What must it have looked like when George Washington, sitting in his pew (preserved still today), stared out that exact same pane, turning his wheels about our new nation’s trials?
Where are my fellow Californians at? It’s a crazy place, we know, even when we aren’t in the midst of a global pandemic. Especially in Los Angeles where I live. Between crowds, traffic, and overall LA crazy, it can be hard to find any peace and quiet. And this year has seen a significant uptick in noise because of a very particular problem – fireworks.
It wasn’t just the 4th of July, although that was quite a spectacle. Covid saw the cancellation of all the city’s official shows. But that didn’t stop pyro enthusiasts, professional or otherwise, from blazing up the night sky with flashes and booms. The minute the sun went down, the fireworks went up, and they didn’t stop all night. Our neighborhood sounded like Flanders in the First World War. My husband and I watched from our windows, and said our prayers more than once, when our neighbors fired off some top-shelf explosives from their balcony. So many Angelinos went nuts with fireworks that the Los Angeles air, already nothing to brag about, topped the list for most polluted in the world on July 5.