The world sucks right now but there are still some great people in it

This is Part Three of what's beginning to look like a neverending story of our vacation. I have invited you over and am holding you captive with my photo albums.  Can I at least get you a coffee?

(Part One and Part Two can be found by clicking the words Part One and Part Two.)

My Al walks a fine line between being obnoxious and being hilarious.  Some people "get" him; others most decidedly do not.  We were with the right group of people at the Kinderhotel, though, because Alex could do no wrong.  His weird humor and extroverted nature netted him offers of friendship -- and tennis! -- at every turn.

Alex met "Bad Dad" the first evening as he tried to get some work done on the terrace.  Bad Dad pulled up a chair and started practicing his so-so English.  Beers happened.  Then shots happened.  After the first shot, Alex said he didn't want another because he was trying to get some work done.  Bad Dad scoffed and said, "NO.  We have an expression in Germany -- 'you can't stand on just one leg.'  You must have two."  Alex replied he's able to stand on one leg just fine, but not after he's done two shots.

Al mentioned he was taking Lucien swimming in the morning before dropping him at Kids Club.  Bad Dad asked if he could send his son down to the pool, too, so he and his wife could enjoy a peaceful breakfast together.  Alex said "Err, sure... he knows how to swim, right?" and Bad Dad was like, "Nah, but we'll put those water wing things on him."

Alex was nervous as he put on his bathing suit the next morning.  He asked if our liability coverage extended to Germany?  No worries, though, he did just fine keeping the two boys alive in the pool.  Bad Dad showed up for a few minutes to sit at the side of the pool and encourage his son not to drown.  Then he left again.  We really like Bad Dad but man, he's a bad dad.

We also met Happy Hippie Dad.  Happy Hippie Dad smiled all the time and, after our initial meeting in which we decided we liked each other very much, took every opportunity to hug us.  Even just passing in the hall, Happy Hippie Dad would pull over for a hugging pitstop.  His English was basic at best.  He called his wife "My Woman" (more like "My Wo-min") which sounded strangely gangster coming from Happy Hippie Dad.

There was a bonfire our last night at the Kinderhotel.  When I approached and saw people holding sticks, I assumed we were making s'mores.  But they don't do that in Germany; instead, they bake bread.  It's disappointing when you're expecting marshmallows and you get bread.

yum?

Alex was the only one to show up at the bonfire with a beer.  He assumed the bonfire event would be attended by beer-drinking Germans, so was surprised to discover he was the only one holding alcohol. 

The beerlessness was short-lived, though.  Once Bad Dad caught a glimpse of Alex's beer, he sprinted  down the hill and came back carrying several beers which he quickly distributed.  Other parents then did the same.  Soon everyone had a beer and the bonfire event grew much louder and friendlier.

 A meeting of the Dads.  Alex, Bad Dad, and Happy Hippie Dad

 Most of their meetings looked like this.  This is German/English sign language.

After the bonfire, I put the kids to bed and Alex went out to the terrace directly below our room.  He was joined by several dads.  I heard them attempting to tell jokes in English.  I didn't want to crash the Dad party, but when Bad Dad told a joke that involved the phrase "Watch out you, I have giant tank on my penis," I couldn't take it anymore and went down to join them.

A couple other wives soon joined.  We ended up a party of eight from five different countries.  There were a few rounds of beer, then a couple rounds of shots.  We tasted each others shots before we downed them to make sure we all got the one we wanted.  In retrospect, I guess that was weird.

It got so late, the restaurant staff went home.  They turned the lights off on their way out, but were kind enough to extend the awning over us before they left, as it had started to rain, hard.

We sat there in the dark and the rain with our empty glasses for a long time because there was no shortage of weird things to say.

Left: Irish Mom. Dutch Dad. Bad Dad. Happy Hippie Dad. German Mom. Laos Dad. Canadian Al. 
*not pictured: American me* 

Bad Dad pulled out his iPod and shared some of his favorite batshit crazy German bands.  In regard to one song, he said, "The guy lists all the rooms in his house where he f*cks his wife."  Then he translated the lyrics as the singer screamed them -- they went something like this -- "LAUNDRY ROOM! ... DINING ROOM! ... BEDROOM! ... KITCHEN!...."  you get the idea.

Sometimes you meet a group of people, and you know you're never going to meet again, but the moment and the chemistry are so perfect it feels like you will know each other forever.  It was that.  There was a shared sense that sitting there together, a group of very different people from all over the world, sharing drinks and jokes in a tiny Bavarian Kinderhotel late at night, was a very special thing indeed.

In the morning, as we packed our car to leave, a goodbye party formed.  The families we'd come to know came outside or waved like mad from their balconies.  Lucien ran back into the restaurant to tearfully tell his two "girlfriends" there was a hotel next to our apartment in Paris, so they could come to Paris and stay there.  (He still talks about those two girls, and has cried himself to sleep several times about no longer being at the Kinderhotel).

Bad Dad hugged us.  Happy Hippie Dad hugged us and cried, but that's not surprising for Happy Hippie Dad.  We all wished each other really good lives.  It was sad that was all there was to say.

 

If only we could all stay on the terrace of happiness forever... 

Little did we know, Coco had been saving up all her anger and resentment about being left at the Baby Club all those days.  On the way back to Prague, she took her revenge.  After we crossed back into the Czech Republic, she threw up on herself one last time.  It came out of nowhere, I had no more Air France barf bags, and it was a real doozy.

We pulled over to the side of a narrow "highway" (one must take that word with a grain of salt in the Czech Republic) with lots of fast-moving cars passing just a few feet away.  We hosed her off with water bottles.  We all may have cried a little.  We wished badly we were still at the Kinderhotel with our new friends on the terrace of happiness instead of on the side of a Czech highway covered in vomit.

(We are beginning to suspect Coco gets motion sick in cars.  Fantastic!)

Here's my lesson as you nod off, posse -- it's always about the people.  People, no matter how badly they suck (read the news for two seconds and you'll know what I mean), also make life crazy good.  And if any of you recognize any of those people in the above photos, please send me their contact info because we would like to find them and hump their legs.

Next time -- Prague.  And there has been some great stuff happening in Paris I should mention at some point since this is a Paris blog.

I hope you have really good lives, friends,
MJ

Lucien and one of his "girlfriends."  I'm sorry we had to leave her, buddy.  

(We wish we were still there, too.)