Die Sippe

Meine Sippe, or clan, + 1 arrived in last Saturday (March 16) in Vienna. My brother brought his two daughters and one of their friends for a week tour. What a sight for Heather and I to see faces from home emerge from customs. Now my brother and I have always given each other grief for our dashing good looks but his look was a little different this time. I knew something was wrong. Or, maybe it was the crying girl behind him. It turns out that the four of them made it safely and timely through multiple connections from Minneapolis (my brother went crazy with booking on the Internet and attempted his own version of around the world in 80 days). However, only one piece of luggage made the connections with them. A delay in wardrobe arrival is devastating to a 15-year old girl. Fortunately, I had one of those rare moments where my better judgment took hold and I didn’t tell them of my relief that we would actually be able to walk around the apartment without the luggage. Long story short, one more bag arrived Monday night and the others on Tuesday morning. I don’t know who was more put out, the girls having to share clothes or my big brother having to be dressed by his little brother. Man, I should have offered to braid his hair.

Up until the clan arrived, we had been experiencing absolutely lovely weather. The morning they were to arrive the winds picked up and it got really cold. For the remainder of the week, it either rained or snowed non-stop. I am trying to figure out when I turned into the elderly and began muttering about how inappropriately teenagers dress for the weather. Fortunately, my wife was nearby to punch me in the arm and tell me to shut up.


All of this being said, it was truly a delight to see Austria and Germany through their eyes. I forget about my time as a wide-eyed 17-year old and the little or big things that caught me by surprise. What do you mean the waitress doesn’t understand me when I clearly enunciated my order of “pop”? Or, the mind-boggling variety of shot glasses one can buy at a Munich souvenir shop? Or, the Viennese ability to hit the hole on an escalator or subway in a way that puts the Vikings’ running backs to shame. Or, that a balding guy with a European accent is cute while a balding uncle is gross. The list goes on.

Bernt (the "cute" tour guide), Curt and Tyke remove a tree from the road

Being the serious intellectuals, Heather and I wanted my family to experience the real Austria and Germany. Not stereotypes. So, we brought them to Salzburg and Munich. The girls scoffed at the Sound of Music tour but could sing the songs associated with each movie landmark I pointed out. And, what 15-year old shouldn’t experience at least one beer hall (or three). The girls really were impressive throughout all of this. In Salzburg we took the salt mine tour and they really picked up a lot. They were truly sobered by the intense tour of Dachau concentration camp. It put into perspective for them the little inconveniences such as delayed luggage. I was proud of them.

the clan tours a salt mine, in protective clothing

the best pretzel we've tasted (Thanks, Cassie!)

waiting for the train back to Vienna

Yesterday morning they departed for the airport around 5 a.m. We have yet to hear from them if they made it safely. I don’t fear that their luggage gets lost again as much as I suspect that their luggage will be the first ever considered to exceed airline weight limits due to an inordinate amount of Mozart embossed candy.

(This collaborative post was written by ElectricYoak, photos by Auntly H.)