Ex-pat Newlyweds

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A quick update!

The entire video was filmed using a GoPro Hero HD camera. It comes with all sorts of attachments, which is how Josh was able to attach it to the end of his ski pole for some of the shots, with the help of a rubber washer.

If you’re interested, you can also find them on Amazon.

A year ago this time, Josh and I had just got the keys to our apartment on the park. It was a massive victory, with the countdown to Christmas putting a lot of pressure on us to find something and find something quick. Those of you who have seen our place know that we were fortunate enough to not have to sacrifice our standard of living because of time constraints.

It’s safe to say we’ve fully settled in here. All of our things have their place and we have our at-home routines and places that we’re most likely to be found. We know our area and discovered neighbours, both German and non. It feels like home.

Back in the day, because that’s how long ago it already feels, Josh and I figured 18 months would be a reasonable time for our adventure. Soon after arriving, we decided that two years was probably more likely.

But the something strange happened.

We weren’t on a working holiday. We were kidding ourselves when we said this was a working holiday. We’re living here, and simply taking advantages of Germany’s ample mandated holiday time while we’re at it.

Fact: Josh still has 13 vacation days left. Yes. That’s despite us going skiing in France in March, spending Easter in Budapest and travelling to Cologne three times. That’s despite us eating gelato in Italy for two weeks and paddling through lakes in Northern Germany over the summer. That’s despite jaunts to London, Denmark and Paris in the fall. That’s despite our return to London at the beginning of this month. It’s not like we didn’t try to use our holiday time.

Why would we put a time limit on this? It wasn’t until this fall that we felt like we had settled into our life here, with a circle of friends and a group of people we’re happy to include in our plans both in and out of Berlin. I’m not ready to call this our halfway mark.

So, basically, what I’m saying is, a year later, Josh and I still really love living here. There have definitely been times when its been hard to be away from our families, but we’re taking a good therapeutic trip back to the Canadian hinterlands for Christmas.

Now please start making offerings to St. Christopher (the patron saint of travellers) so that we don’t get stuck in an airport somewhere!

This morning in Vancouver, Opa passed away. Today marks the one year anniversary of our departure from Vancouver and never could I have imagined that I would lose both grandparents in the span of one year. Oma was sick already when we left and although we hoped to see her again, when we parted at their doorstep one year ago we said our goodbyes knowing that it might be our last. However we always assumed that on our next visit, Opa would be there.

Both were regulars here on our little blog. Opa did most of the typing and in his broken English passed on words that I now cherish. With gems such as, “I enjoyed your story of the Paris visit. You guys love to eat everything! I don’t have to ask how you are doing. Love Opa”, both Sabine and I looked forward to what comment would come next. And yes, we do love to eat everything (almost)!

Throughout our planning and our relocation Opa was always positive, always supportive and best of all always excited for us. This typified Opa throughout it seems. While Oma was sick, Opa was her rock. He was always there, always supportive and always strong no matter how much pain Oma was going through. Driving her around, helping her with the every day tasks that become difficult to do when you are so ill. He truly lived by the vows “’till death do us part” (although they probably sound a bit different in Dutch).

I suspect that in some ways his early days hardened him and forced him to be positive to survive. As a Dutch citizen and soldier living in Indonesia during World War II, he was interned in a Japanese POW camp in Nong Pladuk, Thailand near Kanchanaburi. Enslaved, starved and forced into hard labour by the Japanese, my Opa worked to build the now famous Thailand-Burma railway, aka The Death Railway. The railway was built from Bangkok, Thailand to Rangoon, Burma by the Japanese to support their efforts in Burma which they had invaded and taken over from the British. When I traveled to Thailand in 2000, I made it a point to stop there, visit the cemeteries, memorials and museums. I saw photos and reconstructions of the living conditions that they were forced into. I can’t describe what I saw and can only imagine that describing what actually happened is even more difficult. Suffice it to say, Opa survived unlike thousands of others that perished on that railway.

Despite his unfortunate past he somehow saw through it all, whether by choice or by necessity. What came out of his experiences was a man that was intelligent, resourceful, kind, generous and believe it or not, quite funny. His sense of humour is, in a way, renowned in my family. Quiet yet sly, he would always get a great quip in whether he knew it or not. Since English was his second language, I think part of it was that he didn’t realize how funny he actually was. Somehow that made it all the better.

It is with indescribable sadness that I say goodbye to my last living grandparent, Marius van Harte. Opa, you are my hero and we love you forever but know that you and Oma are together again, free of pain and looking over us. Farewell Opa.

We’ve recently moved our blog from Blogger to Wordpress, hence the frequently changing appearance as we figure things out. You can still find all of our stuff under www.joshandsabine.com — we just don’t want you to be confused by the changing looks!

My favourite jump to date.

Ask anyone fantasizing about a trip to Europe which cities they want to see and Paris will undoubtedly be on that list. Paris is the holy grail of European travels. Unlike some over-explored territories, no one will ever call Paris “done”. It’s Paris and no matter how many people trudge down its cobbled streets, it still lets you feel like you’re the only one to discover that piece of the world.

Josh and I had both been to Paris before, just never together. Both of us were 11 when we were lucky enough for our families to take us there. For Josh, it was his parents and sisters. For me, it was Trudy (practically my sister) and my grandparents. It was like a strange dream, going back to the city and chasing around the ghosts of our 11-year-old selves. The whole weekend was spent trying to figure out if we had actually been there ourselves or if it was something that we saw in a film or a picture.

Of course, we were in Denmark first. Loved it. I really only had a day and a half in Aarhus before we went through the smallest airport ever — yes! Smaller than Regina’s! — before Paris. Though I did go to Aarhus’s famous historic village museum, I spent the rest of my time doing what any other girl left to her own devices does: shopped. I liked it.

A taste of Aarhus, Denmark.

Off to Paris!

Seine River with the Eiffel Tower poking out on the left.

Thursday morning we left our charming little hotel, the Le Chaplain Rive Gauche, near the Luxembourg gardens for the nearby boulangerie for breakfast. We head out to explore the city on foot, wandering through the streets of St. Germaine and being lured into Laduree by a window full of macarons. Throughout the day we meandered through churches (St. Sulpice and Notre Dame) and over bridges until we ended up at The Louvre to fight crowds to say hello to a glass encased Mona Lisa with visits to the Venus de Milo, the winged Nike of Samothrace and many other masters along the way.

Croque Monsieur at Notre Dame.

The Louvre’s pyramid

Venus de Milo paparazzi. How many cameras do you see?
This is one of my beefs: people who take pictures of art. It will never do it justice! And your flash is ruining it for future generations! Just buy a print! Rant over.

Paris means a lot of walking, and we certainly got our fill on the first day. We kept dinner close to home, fuelling up at a Creole restuarant next to the hotel for Friday’s journey to the top of the Eiffel Tower.

When we were 11, neither of us went up the Eiffel Tower. Josh’s family is plagued by phobias while my story is we were 11-years-old and was told the only way we were going up was the stairs. Many years later, Josh and I finally went up to the very tippy-top, though I think the journey was far more redemptive for him. We climbed the stairs of the first two platforms and squished into the elevator to get to the top. There, we witnessed two proposals and snapped a lot of foggy pictures while marvelling at the lacework of steel that has become so famous.

Close…

…closer…

…at the top!

Coming down the Eiffel Tower from Sabine Devins on Vimeo.

And coming down…

More sightseeing that day included the Arc de Triomphe and a stroll down Champs Elysees. But it all seems so insignificant compared to our dinner that night.

At Le Timbre. He has no idea of what’s about to hit his taste buds.

Yes. The food. Friday, October 9, 2009, marks one of the greatest meals of my life. I could spend weeks in Paris just eating, but that night, we were lucky enough to stumble upon Le Timbre. Josh started with a liver pate and a confiture of onions followed by pork on a bed of lentils. I enjoyed a very French appetizer called Pounti — a dish that mixes guinea fowl and plums. My main was a roasted duck breast and roasted pears — two of my favourite things ever. It also seemed very appropriate to be enjoying pears for our wedding anniversary after they played such a big part in the wedding. Dessert: I had roasted figs in red wine sauce while Josh enjoyed his first Tarte Tatin.

The most. amazing. dinner. ever.

Flashback: Wedding pears!

The rest of the weekend was a little less intense as our feet threatened to stay behind. We made the mistake of enjoying an early-afternoon champagne from a foodfest that was happening on Montmartre, which put us in a hazy mood for the afternoon. I also got to eat a slated-caramel macaron. I wanted to just nibble at it forever. When we finally snapped out the champagne haze, we were at the Pompidou Centre — all the way across town. Dinner was French and I got to scold a chubby enfant in his own language for calling me une americaine, giving his family reason to boom laugh. Finally, we got to catch up with friends made in Toronto over drinks. Thanks to the Metro, we crisscrossed the city without our feet hating us too much. Also, my new French shoes helped.

We rounded up our touristing with a trip to the Orsay museum filled with French masters after returning to Laduree for a massive brunch. If you go there — you can order the brunch and its seriously more than enough for two. Bonus: They forgot to charge us for our upgraded order of scrambled eggs to asparagus omelet. Yay!

All that was left of our brunch before we remembered to take a picture. Oops!

Josh was more than happy to be returning home. He had spent very little time in his own bed in the previous two weeks. Paris is lovely but its no Berlin.

Again, I let Josh take the photographic reigns on this trip and I’ve made sure he uploaded his favourites. Click VIEW SLIDESHOW to see them all!