We found out that one of our MCC Ethiopia guards, Sultan, died this past week. He didn't die of natural causes, age or disease. No, he died because he sustained injuries from a vehicle accident. He wasn't in a vehicle. A blue and white taxi, ubiquitous throughout the city of Addis Ababa, lost his brakes going downhill to the ALERT circle on the Ring Road near the MCC compound and plowed into a group of pedestrians.

This is the reality of Ethiopia. Vehicles aren't maintained on a regular basis and we heard of many accidents in our 4 years of vehicles losing their brakes. Earlier this year a city bus full of people was going on a downhill road when the driver discovered he didn't have any brakes. He ended up plowing into a crowd of people waiting at a bus stop, killing many and injuring many more. The majority of drivers are also not qualified to be on the road. Some statistics cite up to 70% of the Ethiopian drivers on the road drive without any license, or with a false license or have obtained a license through bribes or other means. The government is trying, there are traffic police everywhere and they make routine stops daily.

It is hard to believe that Sultan is not going to be in the MCC compound any more. I still see his face in my mind of the last time we saw each other. We were leaving for good on June 25 and he said good-bye to each of us in the family. I am glad we had a chance to say good-bye.

Sultan, like our other regular guards, was always willing to lend a hand in the compound. He would be up on the roof sweeping off the tree detritus that had fallen and was blocking the eavestroughs. All the MCC vehicles were kept clean by Sultan and the other guards. When we would come back from shopping for groceries he was always there ready to lend a hand.

Our family is devastated. Our daughters recounted, with tears in their eyes, how he was such a pleasant person to be around. All the guards would walk our girls down to the SIM compound to catch a taxi to school in the mornings and then meet them to walk them back in the afternoons. None of the guards knew English but Sultan tried more than most to talk with them.

Sultan leaves a wife and two children. That is probably the most painful of all. The safety nets in Ethiopia are few and thin. Life will be unstable and hard for Tigist and the children. If she marries again then that may change. Marriage is one safety net. MCC will also help as another safety net. We do that for thousands of people in our many programs and we certainly will do it for those who have worked loyally for MCC over the years.

Tuesday is for Flying

The night prior to a long trip is torture for me. I know I need to sleep yet rarely can. Instead I usually sleep very lightly, if at all. So many details to manage. I had weighed the 10 pieces of luggage over and over again but still wasn't sure. I would weigh them one more time before lining them up in the morning. In the meantime I have the same feeling I get when I am on a roller coaster ride and the cars are going up the first hill; you know what is coming. It's too late to change anything, even if you could. You just have to go into a 'let's-get-this-over-with' mode.

The mobile alarm clock rang at 5 a.m. and I started moving and getting the girls moving. Our family is getting good at traveling and soon everyone is up (yes, there was the requisite complaining the night before but we are all in the 'go' mode now). Breakfast is eaten and everyone dresses and brushes their teeth. I check the bags one last time and line them up at the door. All is a 'go', now we wait for the man and the van at 6 a.m.

But 6 a.m. comes and goes and no van. Bob calls to check on the van; there is no record of any reservation, no one is coming. In the moment my anxiety level ratchets up a couple of notches. There are questions in my mind and things I would like to say to that company (such as, how they just missed out on a good tip since we couldn't tip them last time because none of us had extra cash and were planning to make up for that). But that is not the priority now. How to get to the airport with 15 pieces of luggage, 5 travelers and 2 small cars?

Wanda and the girls will walk to the train station, I pack the luggage in the 2 cars. Miriam takes me to the train station and buys us the tickets with her train pass card and they take all the luggage in the 2 cars and head to Schiphol. Only when Miriam tries to buy the tickets the machine won't let her. Time is a factor, the train is coming in 5 minutes and the walkers aren't here yet. Quickly we pool money together and with our coins purchase 2 tickets, for Wanda and I. Wanda and the girls come up to the station, we go up the steps to the platform and the train comes. As they say in baseball for a close call, a 'bang-bang play'.

As Bob and Mim race to the airport with our luggage we are now in a race by train. With 2 tickets among 5 of us, we wait and hope that the conductor will not come around checking tickets. In our 2 ½ weeks in Europe riding the rails, the only time the conductor ever checked our tickets was for the long distance train from Amsterdam to Basel and back, all local trains and trams one never saw a conductor. But that doesn't mean they won't check. It happens. But will it happen on our time? I try to think about what I would say by way of excuses. Of course our reason is legit, the ticket machine wouldn't take my cousin's pass card. We are on the way to Schiphol to leave. See, we have 2 tickets we purchased with cash! Please don't take our children away! When the doors finally swing open at the Schiphol stop we exit quietly with the other passengers but the feelings of release and relief wash over me. Wanda later says that she would make a bad law breaker, her anxiety level that a conductor would come was so high that she could hardly stand it. Me too.

Our momentary high dissipates as we are now back in anxiety mode trying to get to the right part of the airport and to find Bob & Miriam with all our luggage. Where could they be now? As we take an escalator then an elevator I try to find the right desk for us to get in line. As we step out of the elevator coming in the front doors with our luggage is Bob. What timing! Thank you Lord! So as Wanda races with a couple of girls to get in the line for desk 26, I go out to help bring in the carts. We found each other in this huge airport on the first try. We overcame the van man's sabotage.

We say warm, happy and sad good-byes to Bob and Miriam, thanks for everything you did for us. Now we need to check-in. For a moment there is a small hiccup when the woman at the desk says, do you know that you will be charged for all the extra baggage? We had heard that the airlines would be starting to allow only 1 bag per person, but didn't know when. But on our tickets it clearly states 2 bags per person and I am quick to point this out (trying not to do this too forcefully). Our tickets originated in Ethiopia, we have the right . . . The woman makes a phone call and somewhere, someone says ok. Sigh of relief, we're back to normal mode. Except that our woven basket barrel is too big for the luggage conveyor belt, it needs to go to the oversized luggage area (where is that?). Ok, fine, I'll get it there, and I do. Oh, one other thing the lady tells me, because you are landing in the U.S., you will need to get your luggage and re-check it to Toronto. (You are kidding, right?) Those are the rules, which makes sense from a security stand point but makes us really wish we would have booked a flight direct to Toronto. This will be a long day (longer than necessary).

Security to board an American plane bound for the U.S.A. is an experience in and of itself these days. Full body scans and your own personal interview with a security official. Children have to get into the body scanner too. A young Asian girl, maybe 5, doesn't want to go in so her mother says, I'll go in first. She steps into the round capsule, lifts her arms above her head and remains motionless for a second until they give her the all clear sign. Then she gets out on the other side and motions for her daughter to come next. The daughter is convinced and steps into what looks like a time machine, places her feet on the painted footsteps on the floor and lifts her small arms high and waits, then bounds out to her mother. Our girls have become veteran travelers so there is no worry on our part, they do it and get through it. We all do.

The flights both across the Atlantic and from Newark, NJ to Toronto were uneventful, in and of themselves. Everyone had their own monitor to watch dozens of movies, TV shows, do games and other things to divert our attention from the 8 hour cross Atlantic flight. The food was good and the crew kept the liquids coming (a good thing for our bodies but it meant more than 1 trip to the bathroom for many).

But in between was where the craziness was. Welcome to America. We landed in Newark, NJ but with what I thought was a 4 hour layover I didn't want to admire the scenery too long (did that as we landed, saw the Hudson River, the NYC skyline and the incredible busyness of the eastern seaboard with roads and docks). After we exit the plane the first order of business; find our luggage. I found the luggage carts, what's this $5 USD rental for each cart? We just came from a dirt poor country in Africa and a wealthy country in Europe and the carts are free. Welcome to America. I am already mumbling under my breath but spend the $20 to get 4 carts. We have no choice with 15 pieces and a family of 3 small (but very willing) daughters and a wife. Thumbing our noses and doing it ourselves is not an option, they got me left to right.

Our luggage all arrives except the woven basket barrel. I head out to look for where to find it. A couple of workers standing around talking to each other, not looking like they want to be busy or on the job, mumble directions. I go down to the end of the long hall, find an empty office and two doors that say, if you open us we'll start ringing off alarms all over the place. I go back to the two guys, exasperated, but in my best friendly voice say, can you help me? Acting as if they are doing me a huge favor by stopping their conversation and coming to look, one of them comes down, goes into the far end of the empty office, where there is an industrial elevator door, opens it and voila! There is our barrel. I thank him a couple of times (thank you, your majesty, for gracing me with your presence and helping me by doing something you should have jumped to do in the first place) until he feels obligated to say, you are welcome.

Now we have all our luggage, paid out $20 for the privilege. Time to make our way through customs. As all of us passengers are streaming to the customs area we find at least 30 stations for customs officials but no officials. Where are they? Did they all take a break at the same time? Other workers are around and they also are acting like they don't want to be here. They see each other and greet warmly, almost oblivious to us. Welcome to America. Finally a few officials mosey on in and the line starts moving. The officials are professionals and we move through at a normal pace.

Now to re-check our luggage. Fortunately it is just down the hall, not far. In this area at least the guys are hard workers. The one guy says, where ya going? Toronto. Let's see your luggage tags. YYZ. Ok leave it with me, I'll unload it and send it off. Don't worry. So I do as told and try not to worry.

Now to find our gate. We need to be in another terminal. We need to take the sky train from terminal B to A. We follow the signs and get on the train/ tram. When we get off I look at the large board to find our flight and our gate number. Can't find it. Strange. Hope we're in the right terminal. We go down the escalators and find a world of restaurants and shops. Again I check a large board, again no listing. I ask people. Yes, you are in the right terminal, just go down the hall. Finally I find the gate itself and there on the large board our flight is listed. Why wasn't it listed on the other large boards? How do they expect travelers to find their gate number. Welcome to America.

Everything just less ordered, less professional at this airport. Is every American port of entry like this? I don't know but all I know is that some Americans have told their government, it doesn't matter if things are falling apart, don't make everyone pay their fair share of taxes. So then we have to pay $5 for a cart and an airport that is second rate in everything compared to European airports (and Asian, so I hear).

Our girls have been pulling their carry-ons all around as we make our way through the maze that is called an airport. They are troopers. We stop for lunch. We buy fast food, not much fruit and fresh veggies are available. Welcome to America. We have time to eat, then we make our way to the security check at the gate, go through that after partially undressing ourselves (you want my watch, my baseball cap and shoes off as well?), the redressing. We find our gate, only to find out that the Air Canada flight is delayed by an hour. So is that again, welcome to America or now is it welcome to Canada?

By now our bodies are tired, 4 p.m. feels like 10 p.m. to our bodies. Tired, hungry, half way to brain dead, we wait for our final flight. We pass the time in a mindless game of Scrabble (it is possible), the girls walk the stores and window shop, oh no they bought some candy . . . Finally the call comes and we wearily line up to get on the plane.

Maybe by some magic when we flew across the border into Canada our luck changed. The flight was good. We landed and went through customs rather quickly, we found our luggage, including our oversized barrel, all in one piece. We only had to pay $2 Cdn per cart (still I grumble, but better than 5). We have one final customs guy to pass, he asks what's inside the barrel and I say clothes and a wooden stool. What kind of wood is the wooden stool. I am stumped, what does he want? He asks again, is it raw wood or is it painted or shellacked or varnished. I actually don't know and a small sense of panic arises. But Sophia is right behind me and immediately says that it is varnished. And that was the right answer, he lets us pass. Thanks Sophia for thinking quickly when I couldn't any longer.

Family greets us as we pass through those final doors. Freedom. We're back. I am too tired to jump for joy. Just a feeling of anxiety falling away and relaxing. It's like unclenching your fists or gut after spending 18 hours in that mode. Two vehicles, a truck to take the luggage and a van to take most of the people. A Swiss Chalet stop to eat supper (thanks everyone for taking us there, very appropriate first meal in Canada). Finally to Tavistock where beds await us. The girls cannot wait for the beds, they are already asleep in the van.

A long, long day has ended well. Thank you Lord. Thanks to all our family and friends who helped us through the day.

Monday in Amsterdam

It was another beautiful day in Holland, the day dawned bright and clear. Bob was determined to get us down to the Anne Frank house in Prinsengracht street before it opened. We were determined as well. The girls remembered waiting in line the last time before giving up. And we were rewarded for our early arrival. We arrived to a short line about 8:45 with the museum opening at 9 a.m. But the line even began to move before 9 and we were paid and in by 9 a.m.! All of us were feeling really good about that, no long lines for us!

We took our time going through the house and reading all about Anne and the Franks' lives, as well as the others who lived there (not much was said about them but in passing mention where they lived and slept). I think that the girls were emotionally connected with the story, in part I believe because they could identify with a 13 year old girl. But the idea of one ethnic group gassing another ethnic group was still hard for them to wrap their minds around, as I watched them walk through the house.

After visiting the book store and buying a couple of books (of course one being a book on Anne Frank's diary) we headed out the exit to find a long line waiting to get in. The girls were so relieved that we weren't part of that line. We found Bob up the street in one of his favorite cafes, had a snack of donuts and hot chocolate and headed to the tram. The next stop was the Rijks museum (Royal museum) of Art. Bob was our tour guide and we enjoyed getting a nice overview from him about the Dutch masters. Some of the most famous Dutch paintings were on display. However the museum was closed for renovation in other parts so this was a small portion of the works they had. It also made for large crowds in limited space. Nevertheless we saw what we wanted to see. There was Rembrandt doing self-portraits as a young and old man. There was Vermeer and his painting of the milk maid. There was a Degas exhibit, there for the summer. We also stopped by that bookstore which added to the load we are bringing home.

We walked through an outdoor market of people selling everything and found a lunch at a Falafel

and French Fries shop. Bob also bought a herring sandwich and I bought one too. He had said he would introduce me to it if I wanted and I had said yes. But the herring was rather slimy and it was hard to down at first. But with the onions and the pickle and the bread it was edible. I rather liked it at the end.

Finally we took a tram ride down to the Centraal Station, a ferry ride to a free parking spot on the north side of town, then over to Joy & Henk's house for a very short visit. They are a busy family so we soon said good-bye to them.

Our final hours were washing clothes and packing suitcases one more time. Tomorrow there will be one final reckoning. Then we are off.

Sunday at Singelkerk

How does that Psalm go? I was glad when they said to me, let us go to the House of the Lord. And now my feet are standing within your gates Jerusalem (Psalm 122 I believe). Now I'm not equating Singelkerk with the Temple in Jerusalem but I was kinda feeling like we were going to a very special worship space. I believe Singelkerk is the oldest church in continuous worship services, starting in 1607. Now I could be wrong (some historian can correct me) but it has a rich history.

This Sunday was even more special. A choir from 1^st Mennonite Church in Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada was in attendance and singing both in the service and later with their own program. There were a few observations I made.

The wooden sanctuary had the weight of the ages oozing out from all directions. The wooden floor even looks old, having not been refurbished. The leather coverings of the benches in the 2^nd and 3^rd floors were starting to crack and tear. The acoustics were very nice.

The organist was very good. The organ may have been controversial when it was first installed (in the 1700's) but it clearly was a good choice in this space. Wonderful sound, wonderfully played.

The congregation was small in size and old in age. The guests from Winnipeg and those of us who were guests that Sunday out numbered the members. The pastor said that the numbers were down because it was summer and that is surely true.

I was surprised there was no provision by the church for translation. It was a Sunday they knew they would have a large presence of visitors with their guest choir (they didn't know the rest of us were coming) so it would have made sense for the pastor to shorten his sermon and ask for a translator into English. Not very visitor friendly, service-wise.

The choir was good, really good. And that was with people missing their flight out of Munich and not arriving until late Saturday night. Their diction was spot on, the pitch and the life in the music was all quite sharp. I enjoyed the selections very much, mostly European classical composers (nothing wrong with that) but 3 African American spirituals that were done well at the end. The soloists were obviously trained. I couldn't get over how much talent there was in one congregation, they obviously are a magnet for good singers because of their program.

We met some of the people in the choir and even someone not in the choir but traveling with the choir. He was someone I knew from the Niagara area. People talked to us about our plans, where we came from and where we are going. It was nice to know where we are landing.

After the afternoon service we went out to eat. The girls had remembered a Subway restaurant so we made our way there and ate. After that we came back to Almere and started repacking. The Womens' World Cup was on TV, featuring USA and Brazil, what a game that was! We watched in amazement as Team USA tied the game with only seconds left in overtime, then won in a shoot out. Exciting.

Saturday in Almere, R&R

Not much happened today but I'll enter this. We hung out at our cousins' home and worked on our packing of luggage. Yes, the luggage arrived in Amsterdam having passed the Bole airport authorities but we took some coffee out, an Ethiopian black pottery dish broke and we were buying some stuff in Europe (mostly cheese). So we rearranged luggage weight until everything was under 23 kgs. per bag (but as I write on on Monday night we are rearranging a bit more with a few more purchases).

But it was also such a nice day to hang out with Bob & Miriam and talk with them about all sorts of ideas, issues and hopes. We have been blessed to have as our hosts and tour guides friends and family in Almere and Basel but it was very helpful to have folks from our cultural background help explain Dutch culture for us. They are observers and still outsiders even as they have learned the language and are living as Dutch. But being from the same family and being from the U.S. was very helpful to interpret Dutch values and mores.

Alkmaar: Cheese Market and Cheese Heads

The Cheese Market at Alkmaar, something I had read about and wanted to see. Bob & Miriam were kind enough to offer their car for the trip so we headed out on the Dutch highway system (A1 to A6 to A10 to A8 to A9). We didn't get the early start I hoped for, oh well, I continued to repeat our mantra to myself, after all we are on vacation.

We arrived at the edge of town not knowing how to get to the cheese market. With a little guess work (that says Centrum, must be the city center . . . let's follow all those cars, bet we're all going to the same place) we parked in a parking garage and walked over to the Waag plein/ weighing square. A big crowd had already gathered before us but there were metal stands for people to stand on and there was room so I got up on the stands with the family following. Men were dressed in white hauling the large round cheese into the square on sleds with ropes. The men operated in pairs, one in front, the other in back of the sled. The ropes were strapped like harnesses over their shoulders and they ran in rhythm. It was clear they had done this many times, they talked to the crowd, they shouted to each other and generally seemed to enjoy putting on a show. The large wheels of cheese were being taken from cheese makers to be weighed and then sold to buyers. Here is the wikipedia link which gives a good account; http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dutch_cheese_markets

We got down off the bleachers and went around the square to the back where the cheese museum shop was. It was busy. Eventually we headed down the street into other parts of the city, actually to find bathrooms (the trip took its toll). I have become used to paying 50 cents for access to bathrooms private and public. It was hard to do at first for a North American but when ya gotta go . . .

Alkmaar is another old city in Holland (here's another link: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alkmaar). A short reading of history shows that it was often at war with the Frisians. It was also a principle city during the times of the Spanish attempts to control the low countries and later during the Napoleonic Wars. The city is clean and orderly, cobble stone streets and high narrow houses facing the street front. As with all cities in Europe there is a large church/ cathedral in the center of the city. We walked the city streets with a tour map and started to learn about the city and it's history.

That is until the rain started. The rain was only spitting when it did come down (except for one down pour, but it was over lunch time when we were in a Greek restaurant) but the gusts of wind added to the coolness and soon my little family was complaining of cold. So we cut short our walking tour and headed back to the car.

By now my North American readers will be asking, so what does cheese heads have to do with Alkmaar? Just this, back in the day when the Frisians (or was it the Spaniards?) were attacking the people of Alkmaar the men would wear the wooden cheese molds (you know for the big round cheeses) on their heads during the attack for protection, which led to the rise of the nickname 'cheese heads' in Alkmaar! And now you know the rest of the story . . .

Riding the rails, a Bohemian thing to do in North America but a very bourgeoisie thing to do in Europe. Our family comes from a driving culture so taking the tram or the train is a novel experience. My anxiety level rises because in order to take trains you cannot miss the connections, if you do you'll be screwed up the rest of the day. Then my anxiety will go through the roof. So we need to make our connection at 9:23 at Tram number 10. Ok if we miss that one we can get the next one at 9:33 but that's the last chance! 9:23 to 9:28, get off and get bus 36 at 9:35 which will take us across the Rhine river to the Basel Badischer Bahnhof by 9:48 which is great because we need to be there by 10:11 so we don't miss the 10:22 departure.

Which is what happened. Our friends Andy and Manuela and their kids Eleanor and Jonathan met us to say good-bye. Sad partings and fond farewells. They were also good hosts for us. Our time in Switzerland was memorable because of the people we met as much as the places we visited and things that we did.

So what's it like to ride first class in a train in Europe? Anything special? Yes and no. There were no free meals (although the girls got free popsicles and gummi bear candy and Wanda & I each got a small piece of chocolate). But we found a compartment in each train where all six seats were sealed off from the rest and we could talk and laugh and argue freely. The seats were made of soft leather but reclined only slightly. The train ride is relatively smooth with swaying around corners and the occasional rough start and stop. The girls were enamored at first but by hour 5 the novelty was wearing off.

The landscape changed from a rural south to an urban north. Golden fields of wheat interspersed with green fields of corn dotted the countryside with towns and villages clustered around churches with steeples. The urban landscape is both wonderfully ordered and at times filled with tagged bridges and walls. Graffiti is an urban reality everywhere, not just in Europe or North America. The culture of tagging is something I cannot fathom but those 'artists' don't see it as an eyesore or vandalism, it is art in their eyes.

We finally arrived at Amsterdam Centraal at 5:30, about 5 minutes late. The Centraal was hopping, it was rush hour at the station. We managed to not get run over by hordes of commuters, tourists and bicyclists. We eventually found the ticket office and purchased tickets to Almere Musicwijk. Finding the right train took some time but eventually we found it and rode the rails one more time in the day. Miriam was there to greet us at the station and we packed all our bags in the car and 3/5's of our family walked (2/5's of our family needed to use the bathroom quickly).

We were warmly welcomed once again by Bob & Miriam. The girls went out to pick the blueberries on his bushes which were used in pancakes for supper. It did feel like coming home. Everyone was tired, at least that was the story, but the parents were in bed first with the girls staying up late. Oh well, its vacation . . .

A Full Rich Last Day in Switzerland

What to do on our final day? Should we visit great museums? Go to historic places? Ride the rails (trams) all day long? Shop until we drop? Given these options which do you think took precedence with three daughters?

The morning was for the shopping spree. Apparently the girls have grown out of their clothes and we can't wait to buy in NA, some things had to be bought here. So off they went on the tram to the MParc stop and went clothes shopping. That gave me some time to catch up on the internet and other things. I went up later to bring Sophia back by tram as she insisted that she stay only as long as needed to try on clothes (she is not a born shopper like her sisters, good for her!).

We had lunch at the Sagessers, Heidi made us another typical Swiss meal consisting of Birchermuesli and bread. Then we headed out to meet up with Mary Friesen Amstutz and her daughter Anna. The girls and Anna went out for the afternoon; swimming, eating, going around. Turns out that they went swimming only for a short time, they thought the water was not warm enough. So they went on to a music museum, to McDonald's and other places, all on the public transportation. It was a great education for them, getting around town.

Wanda & I, in the meantime, had an afternoon to ourselves. After going back and getting the camera we headed out to see if we wanted to go to the Basel Kunstmuseum. But when we got there and saw the price of admission I wanted to have an idea what kind of art I was going to see. What better place to go than the book store where they sell postcards and posters of the art in the museum? Yes, they had many great artists' paintings displayed but not necessarily their well known works. So we saved ourselves the money and time, we'll go to the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam, and walked back out.

We wandered somewhat aimlessly now, relaxed in the knowledge that we didn't have to do something or be somewhere in the moment. We needed to keep track of time to go to the Amstutz' for supper but otherwise we could roam. We wandered into what we discovered was the shopping district of Basel. Beautiful shops, outdoor cafes, little boutiques. I bought a pretzel bun that was sliced in half and filled with butter, I could have eaten several of those! Wanda & I sat down at a cafe for a drink and a snack and watched the square as people of all walks of life paraded past. We then continued on down back streets into another square, where the 'Spalentur' stood. What was its history? Don't know, have to look it up. But the dates on the tower were from the 1500's.

Thanks to our handy dandy Basel transport map we looked for and found the no. 14 tram to take all the way down to Muttenz where Aschli & Mary Amstutz live. We were to meet up with the girls there. Mary gave us good directions, we got off the tram and walked with no problem to their home. Aschli was there to greet us and we took a look around in their house and back yard. They had green space in their back yard along with an amazing variety of fruits and vegetables. Potted blueberry, raspberry and tomato plants all becoming ripe. That's what we'll do if we are in a city, plant small fruit trees and berry plants in pots.

Aschli had ordered a pizza cross town at the club where the girls swam (it belongs to Mary's business) but they don't have a car. No, rather he has 1,400 vehicles at his disposal! The Amstutz' are part of a vehicle sharing plan in Switzerland. In Muttenz are 8 cars which they can sign up for and use, sometimes on a moment's notice. All red cars and all stationed in one place. We took bicycles there, he used his special card to swipe the sticker on the car and voila! it opened. Great system. 3 Swiss Francs per hour and .40 pfennig/ km. All the insurance is paid for when you buy in. I have heard of such a system in some cities in the U.S. but not in Canada. We'll have to see if we can do that, maybe when we return in the beginning.

Once again we had a great supper of pizza and salad and ice cream for dessert. Time went by so fast that suddenly it was 9:15, once again the light in the evening sky through me off. So we had to bit adieu to our new friends Mary & Aschli and Anna. We piled into the Amstutz' (shared) vehicle and Aschli drove us back to the Sagessers. In the twilight of the early evening we said a farewell to our hosts of one week. Heidi and Bruno, Mattias, Lukas and Hannah were wonderful hosts. They tried their English out on us which was their greatest gift of all. We said good night very late (11:30 p.m. is late for us) anticipating and, in some sense, dreading the morrow . . .

Monday in the Juras

Once again we took the Fiat van with Stephan driving us, the only sad part was that Andy couldn't accompany us. But between Manuela (Jonathan) and Stephan we were well taken care of. We headed out for the Jura region to visit the area where I lived and worked for 6 months as an MCC trainee 25 years ago.

After getting off the main 4 lane highway we wound our way up twisting roads into the mountains finally stopping in a quiet place of cows and a bed and breakfast to walk up to a former Anabaptist meeting place.

Known as the 'Geisskirchlein', it was an open shallow cave, a rock formation in the form of a music shell really, where our spiritual ancestors gathered in secret, far away from prying eyes and ears. It was a long trek up hill most of the way and at times we wondered if we were on the right trail (no signage below) but as we got to the path that diverted from the main path a wooden sign quietly pointed the way. So we sat and then we sang a few songs including 'What is this place' (that would be HWB 1) which seemed to have the appropriate words:

What is this place, where we are meeting,

only a house, the earth its floor.

Walls and a roof, sheltering people,

windows for light, an open door.

Yet it becomes a body that lives when we are gathered here,

and know our God is near.

I kept humming it the rest of the day (including verses 2 and 3, although I'm not sure I had all the words down right).

We then headed for Les Reussilles, the farm of Daniel and Teresa Gerber. On the way we saw a Tete de Moine cheese shop open in Bellelay and stopped and bought one cheese. It was expensive (about $28 USD) so we'll have to take it home with care and eat it sparingly.

Our meeting with the Gerbers finally arrived. I had to admit I couldn't show Stephan and Manuela the way, I was turned around. Where was the farmhouse? We drove into Les Reussille, still couldn't get a reading. We followed the GPS in the van and went past tennis courts (well, those weren't there 25 years ago). The GPS led us up the hill and finally the farmhouse came

into view. And there was Teresa coming out to meet us. Time changes all of us yet we remain recognizable to each other. I introduced my family and we went immediately to a table outdoors to have lunch. The weather was absolutely perfect, warm and sunny, low humidity, gentle breeze, if at all. The cowbells tinkling on the nearby field, goats next to us. The vista was out of the Sound of Music. We were joined by Daniel and then later Olivier who is running the farm now with his wife. Daniel and Teresa are retired and living downstairs in the farmhouse. But as anyone who has lived on a farm with generations, one is never completely retired from farm work if you live on a farm. So Daniel was off with Olivier after lunch to go another farm to pick up farming equipment. It's the middle of hay season and they needed to bale hay while the sun shines.

After a short tour of the house and barn we bid a fond farewell to the Gerber family and headed out to one other site of Anabaptist historical significance, a 'Taufer brucke'. A bridge under which the believers met in secret for years until the time of persecution had passed. A brand new bridge was up with historical markers on site. It was good to see the Swiss acknowledge this as part of their history.

One last stop, to see the house and kaserai I worked in with the Amstutz'. They were no longer there, they had move the operation to another place. The town of Moron was quiet except for some farmers working up the road. Outside of a few changes, the town remained the same from 25 years ago. But it did bring back a lot of memories, walking around the house.

We got back into Basel at 6:30, another long day but good one. Tuesday would be a 'day of rest'.

Sunday in Basel

We gathered for Sunday morning breakfast with the Sagesser family. Swiss Sunday breakfasts include the special bread 'Zopf', a braided bread made simply of flour, salt, butter and milk. Every breakfast includes jams, breads, butter, milk and coffee.

We would be going to church this morning but ironically not to the Schantzli Mennonite Church (although that is Schantzli's sanctuary in the photo) that I had hoped to worship in. Instead we were to go to the neighboring Reformed church for a combined service. This is now a yearly occurrence, something that started 4 or 5 years ago, always on the first Sunday of July. The Mennonite pastor preached and the Reformed pastor presided over the service. There was an infant baptism to start the service off. I thought it a bit odd to put that ceremony front and center of a combined Mennonite/ Reformed service, almost like rubbing it in the face of your guests. But maybe Mennonites have had an adult baptism when they hosted. But everyone sat there quietly except the baby, who screamed away at the action of a strange woman (the Reformed Pastor) holding him and making him wet (just sprinkling).

After the service I did have a chance to talk to several people, one was a woman who knew a genealogist who is working on an Amstutz family history in NA. So I gave her my email address to give to this woman. My advice was, if she was going to visit the US, she should surely visit Kidron and the historical museum downtown. I also talked to a young man of 16, Daniel, who was a missionary kid with his family in the Congo as a boy. I also talked with Mattias and Sylvia Hofer who were MCC'ers in Botswana for several years. I also knew Mattias when I was a trainee in '86.

The rest of the day was mostly rest and relaxation. The girls needed to hop on the razor scooters and bicycles and go up and down the local street where the Sagessers live. We enjoyed lunch and supper there, including grilled sausage for supper with at least half of the family (that would be 4 of the children) present. Bruno & Heidi have been wonderful hosts and it has been fun to get to know their children, the majority are adults and gone.

I did show some photos as a power point presentation of sorts. I just pulled out groups of photos at random, which did remind me that I should go through all the photos and put together some presentations for family and friends.

In the evening as we were relaxing outside in lawn chairs on a beautiful summer's eve, we met Ernst and Mary Amstutz and their 14 year old daughter. Our girls seemed to hit it off with her while we enjoyed talking with Ernst and Mary. Mary is Canadian Mennonite from B.C. and Ernst was a trainee in Canada (its amazing the number of former trainees I have met). We enjoyed hearing their stories. Mary's story was amazing. Born in Tajikistan, emigrated to Canada at 6, now here in Switzerland, she was part of a Mennonite remnant in central Asia. Such stories are always fascinating to me.

Another day to remember in Switzerland.

Amsterdam to Basel

True to form we rested on Thursday. Wanda and the girls went uptown for a walk and some groceries but otherwise we hung around the house. I was committed to getting caught up on these blogs. We also did laundry, what a blessing to have a house and a place to relax and wash clothes. We are grateful for the hospitality of Bob & Miriam.

Thursday evening Miriam and Wanda drove our carry on luggage to the train station in Almere while the girls and I walked (5-10 minutes) in the glorious summer weather of Holland (sunny but cool). Miriam helped get us pointed in the right direction, we boarded the train and said good bye for now and headed to Amsterdam. We found the right track and waited for the ICE (Inter-City Express) that would take us to Basel.

The sleeper car was also a bicycle rack car as well. We managed to get our luggage on in the crowd (in spite of some German man impatiently telling my girls, come on, get on, with their big carry on pieces, not helping but full of bark) and find our compartment. Tiny in size, 6 beds just with the length of the beds being no more than 5'11” in length. Since we were a family of 5 we wondered if someone was joining us. Not in Amsterdam. When the conductor came through he told me to keep the lower bunk bed open for someone joining at the Frankfurt airport stop.

The excitement of travelling on a sleeper car soon wore off for me but the family managed to sleep once it turned twilight. At 2:10 a.m. We stopped in Frankfurt and sure enough a woman joined us. We had locked the sliding door with a chain and sliding lock that is common in hotels. But this also had a plastic pincer at the top that needed to be squeezed properly in order to release the round bolt. I couldn't do it. With the woman and the conductor waiting on the other side I tried again and again to squeeze that plastic piece, to no avail. A rare failure in German engineering. Finally I squeezed just right (what did I do differently this time?) and it came out. I opened the door. The woman came in with a huge suitcase. With no place to put it (too big to go under the bed) it stayed on what little floor space there was making it almost impossible to get past it if one needed to go out to the bathroom. But she was quiet and managed to get her bedding ready in the semi-darkness. I couldn't sleep well after that. Should have paid for that 6^th spot in our compartment.

Nevertheless we arrived in Basel SBB right on time. We were given the wake up call a half an hour before by a conductor (wish I had known that, I also couldn't sleep because I didn't want to wake up and miss our stop and end up in Zurich). We pulled all our belongings from the compartment and headed out into the narrrow passageway to the bike area. We pulled all our stuff off and looked around to see what to do next. Got to find the main entrance, someone will be waiting there for sure.

But that someone came to meet us at the train. I realized that a young woman pushing a baby stroller was coming toward us who looked familiar, it was Manuela Kohler Martin. What a nice gesture! So we met Jonathan, her 3 month old son. After greetings all around we made our way to the main hall where Manuela purchased public transportation tickets for us, two adults, the girls ride free with us. We managed to get our luggage (and the baby stroller) on the trams and headed for the Sagesser house.

We were warmly welcomed by Heidi (and later Bruno and family) to her house and a typical Swiss breakfast of hearty bread, butter, jam and honey. Of course coffee was on the table as well. I remember such breakfasts well, I ate a lot of bread as a trainee 25 years ago! We were shown to our rooms on the 3^rd floor and then talked plans for the weekend and week. We hung out in the morning around the house, catching a cat nap to feel more ready for the day. After a lunch Wanda and Amani and I headed for the tram and into the city. Abby and Sophia didn't want to go but just stay around the house and ride on the razor scooters the Sagessers had.

We took the tram back to the train station and got some money (Swiss Francs). I got out the transportation map and we hopped a tram further into the city. We walked the city streets, ended up at the large church cathedral, the Munster, and saw the beautiful vista of a city on a hill (the church too). Eventually we found our way back to the train station, stopped for some ice cream at McDonald's (I know not kosher for American/ Canadian tourists but it is cheaper and clean and the food is good) before heading back to the Hofmatt stop where the Sagessers live near.

That night we enjoyed a supper at Andy and Manuela's home, traditional Swiss fare again, Rosti. With salad of course and other goodies. It was fun to ride the rails to find their home and even more fun to be in their home with them after having planned this for months. It was a very nice time together. Hard to believe we were in Basel! We planned the logistics for Saturday before heading back to the Sagessers (actually Andy and Manuela had done all of the planning, we were just asked to affirm the details). Saturday would be fun.