South Tyrol, Italy

South Tyrol, Italy

The 8th Eggentaler Herbst Classic Car Rally 

I'm not really sure where to begin explaining this part of the trip. How do you explain a German car rally to someone who has never gone? It's almost impossible. However, I feel pretty passionate about the word impossible. In that I passionately don't like it. It's like that quote, "It is what it is." I get that it can make sense sometimes, and I get some things really are...what they are...but I really dislike that quote. I mean think about it, it's a ridiculous saying.

Getting back to the point, a German car rally is extremely difficult to describe. I will begin with explaining that my father has an old car that he keeps over in Europe. (This is normal, no?) It was his first car in high school and after it broke down he put it into storage. A few years later he sent it over to Germany to have the engine fixed and it has been there ever since. My father and I actually actually participated in this same rally last year. (Click here to see that one!) It was his first time driving the car in 40 years and it was probably one of the coolest things I'll ever do in my life.

The rally isn't a race, it's more of a competition of accuracy. Each participant receives a book the first day that maps out the next three days. The first day is just an afternoon ride but the following two begin around 8 a.m. and end at 5 p.m. Once you arrive to the starting line each car (there are around 60 old classic cars) has its' own departure time and you follow the directions in the book that (thankfully) are mostly translated from German into English. Sometimes the signs you are following lead you to a parking lot where you have to go in between cones during a timed test. (These are usually dirt parking lots in the middle of nowhere that you get lost trying to find.) You have to make it between the first two cones in eight seconds, and then the next two in sixteen, and then in exactly one minute and nine seconds through the last one. This is not easy and there are a lot of these kinds of tests throughout the rally. Then you have to drive at exactly 35 kilometers per hour for about 4.3 kilometers. Needless to say there was no cruise control. This is also not easy. In fact, I'd say that nothing is really easy about the rally except the cocktail hour at the end of each day. If we could get points for how many Wodka* tonics we consumed due to stress and anxiety from any of the tested parts of the day I would have gotten us to first place. However, the actual driving during the rally each day that doesn't involve testing is absolutely amazing. You are driving in an old car through the Alps in Northern Italy. I mean, it's pretty damn cool.

The place where the rally participants stay each night is also absolutely stunning. It is overlooking the mountains and has a full spa with a pool, sauna, aroma rooms, and a gym. (I actually made it into the gym for 12 minutes during my stay!) Each morning you serve your own breakfast, which was always chocolate cereal, eggs, a chocolate croissant, and a cappuccino. After finishing breakfast I'd go back and make an entire sandwich that I would wrap up in napkins and keep in my jacket pocket in case I got hungry, which I always did about 45 minutes after breakfast.

While driving through the windy mountain roads of Italy we also got little breaks. Coffee breaks were my favorite. The best one was on top of a mountain. We took a gondola ride to the top where there was a restaurant that served everyone a little cake and coffee. The view was absolutely insane. 10,932 feet above sea level. Insane.

The final day was the best one. We woke up to a few inches of snow so the morning part of the rally was cancelled. I ventured to the spa, and then ate a delicious lunch and prepared for the afternoon drive. You had to prepare for each day because there was a lot of math involved in figuring out exact times for each trip. I never would have predicted in high school how frequently I'd be using that velocity equation. My  dad insisted we put the top down for the final day because it "looked cooler," so despite the snow and arctic breeze, we did. That was our best day. We got the most points out of any other day which of course made the Aperol spritzes and Wodka* tonics taste even more delicious that night. It was the perfect end to the rally.

The next morning we packed up. After wrapping some sandwiches to go, we said goodbye to Dad's 1939 BMW and began our two day drive south to Croatia.

*wodka = vodka in German for those of you who couldn't figure it out. I can not tell you how many times I ordered a vodka tonic and was looked at like I had just spoken Chinese so I figured I'd explain. 



This was the rainbow the first day. It poured all morning and then this came out. Call me Theresa Caputo but I was pretty convinced it was Mom saying hi:

View from the window:

 

Dad standing proud with his baby:

A few of the other cars:

 

Some views from the car:

Driver and copilot shot:

View from our hotel room:

10,932 feet above sea level:

One of the coolest German women I know at the final night rally party:

Munich

MUNICH

After two vodka tonics, a few cardboard airplane meals, and a days worth of flying I arrived in Munich, Germany for the start of my European adventure with my father. We began the trip with an extremely exciting adventure to the nearest hotel where we checked in and promptly passed out for four hours. Once rejuvenated, we headed downstairs to the hotel's restaurant where I put back a soda and a schnitzel and then my father and I, along with my father's very close friend and his family all headed to Oktoberfest. I had no idea what Oktoberfest was but knew it had a lot to do with guzzling beer, an idea I was totally fine with now that I had gotten in a whopping four hours of sleep. For those who have been to Oktoberfest, or Germany in general, you already know that they don't generally serve beer in a bottle or cup intended for humans like America. Beer there is served usually in more of a pitcher, or bucket, or wheel barrow sized instrument. Enjoying a few beers was quickly, and brilliantly, followed by a trip over  to the nearest roller coaster. Shockingly, the beers stayed put during the experience. It was actually a fantastic ride. When you were on the top you could see over the entire festival and it was an amazing view. Unfortunately I could not bring a camera to catch the view, because it would have flown right out of my hand once we started downhill. 

 

The second day of the trip we journeyed over to The Nymphenburg Palace where I fell in love. The entire building was dressed in gold and adorned with beautiful paintings. Each room was more beautiful than the next and the lighting was so gorgeous. After exploring the inside of the palace we walked around the grounds strolling between little ponds, pools, and gardens. Naturally all of this walking led us straight to lunch where sandwiches, chocolate croissants, and cappuccinos were all devoured (how Un-European of us) within minutes before a much-needed nap.

You will pick up soon that most of the trip revolved around eating, napping, and cocktails in between some sight-seeing.

Here I am at my happiest in the Nymphenburg Palace:

Monday was my first official day as a free person. Free from the cubicle confinement of a 9-5 life. I slept about one hour and three minutes during Sunday night, but I woke up Monday morning feeling fantastic. Fantastic and free. Although these emotions were hidden under a thick layer of stress and exhaustion, the excitement did happen to make a debut around 10:30am at my local Starbucks on York Avenue. I walked down from my apartment on 82nd street and ordered my usual iced soy caramel macchiato and a Greek yogurt. (I'm one of those people who is lactose intolerant only when it comes to milk and cheese. Luckily I can still eat yogurt...thank goodness. Without 16 Handles I'm not sure I would have made it through the last few months. I'm not saying frozen yogurt really makes the grieving process any easier, but it definitely makes you feel less guilty and bloated when you are an emotional eater. This is, of course, when you do not count the three rainbow cookies you eat from the toppings bin while waiting to pay every time you go.) 

Regardless, this post is not about 16 Handles. It is about the customer service at Starbucks. I must say that I have never experienced terrible service at a Starbucks in my life. Trust me, I have plenty of negative things to say about their prices, or, at times, the lack of satisfaction from a watery latte. However, the attitude of the employees has always been more than adequate. In fact, around the holidays I specifically go to certain Starbucks locations just for the staff experience. One of my personal favorites is the one on 54th and Broadway. One of the men who works there is always singing Christmas songs when I visit. It just makes me so happy every time I hear him. I could probably pack an entire week's lunch with the money I spend on one visit to my singing barista, but it's the holidays...and he's singing. I mean, how can you resist?

Back to my point, I was at Starbucks that Monday morning and was waiting for my latte when suddenly the barista asked me how my day was going. I quickly replied, "Good, yours?" I then realized I wasn't just answering with the standard reply, it WAS going good. I wasn't at work sitting in a cubicle. I added to her question, "You know, it's actually going really good. I quit my job on Friday so today is my first day as a free woman! I have a photography business on the side and am hoping to make it full time and be my own boss from now on." She stared at me for a second and then replied, "That is amazing, girl! Wow. You're crazy but that is really great; just amazing." We talked a little bit more and then I waved goodbye and headed out the door with my latte and a massive dorky grin on my face that I always get when talking to strangers who make me happy. It's amazing how one woman's quick genuine question about how my day was in fact made my day and left me smiling like a five year old. It is those times I feel like I look like my mother the most - when I have this massive grin plastered on my face. She always wore that grin.

After enjoying my latte, I headed home to pack up as much as I could of my life at 1558 York Ave and then snuggled into bed with my two roommates around 6:30pm once they were all home from work. We popped some champagne, talked about our days, and then headed to our final roommate dinner. After three years of apartment life together, and 20 years of friendship, it was no easy goodbye. We returned from our dinner and crawled into one bed where we watched our last few episodes of  our favorite show Friends and sipped some more champagne, and spent the night cuddled all cuddled together...Monday was my last night as a NYC resident. 

On Tuesday morning I packed my life up into a truck and took off for Long Island. It was about two minutes down the road before I realized that a parking ticket was under the right side windshield wiper. It had not been there five minutes prior to departure so was most likely placed when I ran inside for a few minutes to say goodbye to my roommates. My initial instinct was...well, I won't write that here. But it wasn't happy. However, I realized shortly after being furious for a few minutes that maybe it was meant to happen. I was furious and angry and happy to be leaving NYC and here was its ridiculous final effort to empty my wallet one last time. The rent, the laundry, the cost of living - I was finally fleeing it all. That ticket was exactly what I needed to remember why I shouldn't be too sad to go. Or at least this is how I decided to look at it, because it really did work. I was so worried that I would be crying my whole way home until that ticket happened. There was no crying after that. 

In the last few days since I arrived home it has been a blur of unpacking, repacking (for Europe tomorrow morning), editing, running errands, and early bird special dinners at my grandparent's house. I have been done with dinner and dessert by 6:30pm the past few nights. I have managed to go from an employed NYC girl to a senior citizen in the country over night. But I'm excited. Nervous, stressed, overwhelmed? Sure. But mostly excited. I board a plane to Europe tomorrow afternoon and arrive back on the 22nd of October. A few more months on Long Island and then I head to St. John, VI and I can't wait to be able to share via photos and posts every step of the way.

It's a new chapter. I am hitting the restart button. I'm taking a chance. I'm pursuing my dream. 

Or maybe like the Starbucks woman on Monday told me, I'm just crazy. 

First shot walking out the door of my corporate life. 810 Seventh Avenue: 

The roommates, three years later, in front of  1558 York Ave

The ride home, sad to go, pre-ticket: 

The last view looking at NYC:

NYC in the rearview:

First day off in months motto: 

New roommate, Jack. Getting ready for the Scandal premiere! 

Off to pack for Europe, see you October 22nd!