Kiefersfelden, Germany 2022

Gale force winds buffeted the windows of the apartment. Outside, tree branches littered Berlin’s parks and miniature dogs were getting blown down the sidewalk. It was a chihuahua, if you’re curious. A genuinely powerful storm was blowing it’s way across Germany, and it didn’t care about trees, dogs, or vacation plans. Lena and I were set to leave for Bavaria by train that day, but all train service in northern Germany was disrupted by the storm. Our trip was off to a great start.

The next morning train service resumed and we fought our way onto the ICE, elbowing along the aisle in an effort to find two unreserved seats. Otherwise we’d be stuck standing for 5 hours on our way to Munich. After a quick stopover for a family dinner, we hopped on the last train of the night to Kiefersfelden, our getaway for the week.

Our goal for the trip was to hit the slopes for a few days, but without a car our options were limited. The local ski resort operates a ski bus but you have to call the day before to reserve your spot, so everything was pushed back a day after our arrival. For our free day we enjoyed the fresh mountain air on a 10 kilometer loop from Kiefersfelden over the Austrian border, and back again. There wasn’t much snow on the ground, but we didn’t mind the warmer temperatures for walking around.

We awoke early the next morning and walked downstairs for the ski bus to meet us. A decalled VW bus rolled up, I handed the driver €10 for the both of us, and we were off to Sudelfeld. At the resort, we told the young woman behind the counter we wanted to rent for three days and she shook her head no. I didn’t understand. What do you mean, no? I asked. There were three big groups coming the next day and she couldn’t guarantee us equipment past today. I hadn’t even considered the possiblity of the resort running out of skis to rent. There was no use arguing it, though, so we took what we could get and rented for the day.

We had an awesome day of skiing, exploring a new mountain and getting our snow-legs back after a few years off the slopes. The bang-for-buck ratio felt just about right, and great Bavarian food on the slopes never hurts. The forced one-day limit at Sudelfeld was a blessing in disguise, though. Sudelfeld is a fun local resort for low-key turns or teaching younglings, but it doesn’t boast the epic views that can be found further south. With those epic views in mind we had some planning to do.

My classmates Stephen, Paul, and Leo arrived that evening and we got them up to speed on the situation over food and beers. There was a lot of back and forth but we decided to go for the full Austrian mission despite the hurdles we’d have to jump through. At 6 a.m. the next morning the adventure began.

Our trek started with a short train ride one stop over the border to Kufstein. From there we hopped on a bus that took us to Wörgl — with 27 stops in between. There, we took the S-Bahn regional train to the famed ski town of Kitzbühel. Only, we took it to the center of town, not the stop before that’s right at the gondola. 20 minutes later after walking back to the ski resort we were at our destination. We dipped into a ski rental shop and frantically started the check-in process when an employee told us there was no need to rush because the resort was closed because of high winds. It seemed our fairytale Austrian ski adventure wasn’t meant to be.

We walked up the street to the gondola to look at the live resort map to confirm the bad news. It wasn’t entirely true, but only one gondola and two small lifts were open. Compared to the 57 lifts on the mountain only having access to three felt like a massive defeat. After a brief powwow (without gulasch or beer, sadly), we decided that we’d made it this far so we might as well commit, regardless of conditions. We had also heard that the winds were expected to die down by mid-morning. What felt like hours but was really only 30 minutes later we were on the gondola with rental skis in hand and hope in our hearts. After two runs they shut the entire mountain down.

Everyone on the slopes was forced to ski down to the base of the gondola along a slushy, mogol ravaged, disaster of a run to await further updates. When we got to the bottom the gondola was running (with massives lines) and a few lifts had opened up again so our hope had returned. Over the next hour every lift on the mountain came to life and our Austrian fairytale was back on.

We explored all over the huge resort, testing out every lift we could see. We found the best groomed snow, some leftover powder in need of fresh tracks, and a couple of off-piste kickers for a few successful starfishes and unsuccessful backflips. Over a hearty alpine lunch the clouds cleared and our afternoon was blessed with bluebird skies. The fairytale wasn’t just back on, it was better than our dreams.

We were having too much fun to worry about the time until suddenly time was of the essence. With four lifts and a confusing string of runs between us and the rental shop we suddenly had a daunting task ahead of us. One wrong turn and we’d end up stranded on the mountain or in a different town. As the sun slid below the peaks around us we raced down the slopes, making our way ever closer to the final run. At the bottom of one lift I noticed that the “last chair” time and the “current time” were the same.

When we finally made it to the top of the final run we let out a sigh of relief and pulled out our cameras to capture the immense Kaiser mountains bathed in the last light of the day. Grinning ear-to-ear we pushed off one last time and, not wanting it to end, adopted the most leisurely pace of the day for the final run. Lena and I took it slowly, so by the time we made it to the bottom the boys were already enjoying cold beers and classic Austrian aprés ski pop hits (read: terrible, terrible music). Even our commute home contributed to the fairy tale. The train-bus-train became train-train-train and was 40 minutes shorter. I was in love with Austria.

We all yearned for another amazing day of skiing in Austria, but travel plans and work schedules were unfriendly to our continued fairy tail dreaming. Instead, we hiked up into the foothills of the Kaisergebirge from the other side. Along the way we found a slot canyon with snowmelt gushing down.

Running out of time before Stephen had to return for his train we had to decide between an epic view of the Kaiser mountains and some classic Austrian food and drinks. The food won in the end, but we still snagged a glance of the mountains out the window of the hut.

For our final day Lena and I took the train to Salzburg, a town I’ve visited many times but a first for her. I showed her all of my family’s favorites. Meaning we tasted all of the classic Salzburg foods we could get our hands on: Mozart kugel, Salzburger nockerl, and leberknödelsuppe. (Pro tip: the “original” Mozart kugel from Fürst isn’t as good as the copy from Reber). We also chanced upon an organ performance in the Salzburg Cathedral. An organist played a piece on each of the cathedral’s five organs, filling the chamber with resonant music. The fortress on top of the hill was our final destination before we made our way back to the train station for our ride back to Kiefersfelden.

The next morning as we packed our bags and hopped on the train, excited to remember the trip before it was even over, our phones began to buzz with push notifications. What we’d been talking about in the background for weeks had become a reality: Russia invaded Ukraine. Except for her sister, Lena’s entire immediate and extended family were suddenly living in a warzone and all of our attention went to finding ways to get them to safety. If you’re able to support those affected in any way, please find resources here.

Athens, Greece 2021

Our flight arrived around 9 p.m. and after climbing into a taxi we made our way along the broad highway towards Athens. While Lena and I sat in stunned silence in the backseat our driver Facetimed his son, letting him know he’d be home soon, while swerving across lanes and speeding around other traffic. Luckily he wrapped up his call before we made it into the city proper, where even at 9 p.m. the streets are filled with cars, trucks, and chaotic scooters. With his eyes more focused on the road he pointed out a few landmarks along the way in broken English. We nodded and pretended like we knew what he was talking about. In truth, we’d researched hardly at all.

At one intersection he pointed out the Acropolis in the distance, lit up by hundreds of floodlights and visible from anywhere in the city that had an unobstructed view. I only had a vague idea of what it was (again, no research) but knew instantly that I wanted to go. I’m a history nerd but Lena isn’t so I made a point of extracting a promise from her that we would go to some of the ruins in the city.

Our stop in Athens wasn’t really our destination, it was a way to get two trips out of one on our way to Skiathos, a small Greek island north of the capital, where we’d be spending two weeks for my mom’s 60th birthday. This was the justification for our lack of research.

In the end I didn’t need to extract any promise from Lena to see historical sites because that’s just about all there is to do in Athens anyway. Punctuated by brief stops for coffee and prolonged Greek feasts we hoofed it from one ancient ruin to another over two days.

For lunch Lena found a famous souvlaki stand that she said was worth the 20 minute walk through Athenian traffic. When we arrived there was a line of ten or so. Nine of which looked like tourists. We couldn’t all fit into the tiny shop so I volunteered to order for us when we got to the front of the line. I stepped through the door and waited for the cook behind the counter to show me he was ready to take my order.

“Two chicken, one veggie, and one beef souvlaki, please,” I said through my mask.

He looked at me with a blank stare. “We don’t have that, only pork,” he said in accented English.

I paused, feeling stupid for having no clue about what food I would be getting. I shrugged.

“Then four pork souvlaki, please!”

I passed the man’s wife 10 euros for the bag of souvlaki and squeezed past the line back outside. Still shocked that each bundle of pork and veggies wrapped in pita was only €2.50 I relayed the story to the others and they laughed, not at all upset that they wouldn’t get what they’d ordered. We walked to a nearby park and dug into what can only be described as heaven. The pita was soft and doughy, the pork tender, the veggies fresh and crisp, topped with fresh tzatziki for both creaminess and some zest. It’s one of the world’s many wonderful flatbread wraps. We enjoyed every moment of our wraps while resting our feet in the park before moving, somewhat reluctantly, on to the next set of ruins.

After a long first day our feet were all sore but over dinner and ouzo I insisted on waking up early to be at the acropolis at 8 a.m. when it opened. There was some pushback but we all agreed in the end that avoiding the heat of the Mediterranean sun and quite a few tourists would be a good idea. It didn’t hurt that the light for photography would be much better.

The next morning, with our bellies full of greek yogurt and caffeine, we made our way across town and up the hill that sits under the acropolis, arriving only a few minutes after 8. It was already bustling with people. I ran around shooting hundreds of photos of the Parthenon and Erechtheum as the sun marched higher into the sky. Before long we all craved a cold drink and some shade so we made our way back down the hill.

Before we knew it our two days were up. But we didn’t have a moment’s thought to spare before boarding a tiny Olympic Air propeller plane on our way to the real vacation: Skiathos.