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Being German I naturally pride myself of belonging to a nation that can organise things. In fact, in line with German modesty, I always thought we were the world champion in getting things done. Not necessarily the best in everything (just most things), but the best overall. Now, Japan puts a serious dent into my patriotic pride. Let’s play a little competition encompassing three disciplines: airport arrival process, train travel, hotel check-out (very appropriate to the start of the 2016 Rio Olympics).

Let’s start with our arrival process in Tokyo’s Narita airport: my expectation was to see millions of little, hectic people running around nervously, an hour wait at immigration and some more thirty minutes at the baggage claim. Very far from the truth: everything was super relaxed, there was no wait at the approximately 20 open immigration counters and when we reached the baggage claim our bags trundled already on the conveyor belt. I don’t even want to compare this experience with Munich’s airport. Certainly a 1:0 Japan. In fact, even better: I don’t know how you feel about people’s behaviour around the baggage claims. I for myself am always surprised why people think that standing as close to the conveyor belt as possible, ideally with a trolley between themselves and the conveyor belt, is a good idea. If I am honest, it is usually one of these situations where I wish that Q had equipped myself with a vaporising wrist watch that I could point at these idiots and turn them into dust. No need for that in Narita: people waited calmly a couple of meters away from the claims area – this, unfortunately, puts Japan in the lead 2:0. Only 60 minutes into the game.

Next part: train travel. Step one: ticket acquisition. When we arrived at the railway ticket office I thought: bugger! There were at least 15 people ahead of me. Despite the fact that the single queue was served by Continue reading “Japan vs. Germany – 5:0” →

It has been a pleasure on this trip to follow Max’ transformation from small, enthusiastic boy into a social whatd’ya’callit dude. He showed signs of that already last year when he started ski racing and relatively quickly gained some respect for his skiing among the older ranks in the club. This continued in Revelstoke, where his drive and resilience to improve as a skier brought him a lot of sympathies from team mates, trainers and last, but not least, also some good results. That said, for us as parents it was a little bit more of the same, so I didn’t really register a massive change.

Later in the trip I wanted to take the opportunity to learn kiteboarding proper. Last year in Sweden I was struggling with everything, but got a taste and felt that this trip would be a good chance to learn a new skill at my almost biblical age. So we went to Jericoacoara in Brazil and Continue reading “From Boy to Dude – Max, the Kiter” →

When we planned this trip we knew we were going to get far. Little did we know, though, that we’d leave our home planet and visit Earth’s neighbour.

We wanted to go up Mauna Kea on the Big Island of Hawai’i. When we arrived at the bottom of the mountain we were wrapped in low hanging clouds – the prospect of driving up 4200m above sea level wasn’t too inviting. Luckily, about two thirds up we went through the clouds.

Watch the transformation Continue reading “Unexpected Trip to Mars” →

Five weeks sounds like a really long time. I had so many plans; read lots of books, learn capoeira, brush up on my yoga but all of a sudden, it was time to pack up and go! The five weeks had gone by so fast! Kiteboarding took up a lot of our days but we still had time to have a couple of caipirinhas on the beach, watch impossibly skillful (and visually delightful) guys play beach volleyball and – well – just hang.

The beach in Jeri is gorgeous; naturally protected it’s not quite as windy and the water is warm and shallow. Great for the kids to play on the beach – or in the water. Max got friendly with Xavi and Sabrina at the surf school and got to pick up any board he wanted at any time, which he did whenever he wasn’t kiting (the energy!)

Underneath the parasol, my Honey and me…

Molly baking a cake for laters

When not kiting, Max was surfing

Although Jeri has become a bit of a holiday destination, especially from nearby Fortaleza, its off-the-chart location has not yet landed on the American or any European package tour radar (and thank God for that!). Only the most keen kite- and windsurfers, mostly French of course, seem to make the journey. One of them being our good American, now Revelstokian, friend Chris, a man-of-many-watersport-talents who said this is a must-go place. Thanks to him we also got a good deal on our pousada, although in Jeri you can still live fairly cheaply.

Pool games at Casa Fufi

Trying to blogg on a (relatively) windfree day

So what happened after the kite surfers had returned, the sun loungers had been cleared away and the surf shops carried their boards away? Did the Jeris watch quietly as the sun set over the dunes and then retreated to the all-inclusive hotel? NOOO!!! This is BRAZIL we’re talking about!! The cocktail carts were pushed (with impressive stamina) up the Sunset Dune so that the revellers could quell their thirst for Caipirinhas, Caipifruttas or Caipiroschkas while watching the sun set.

Te sun setting over Jeri beach

The rare clouds creating a spectacular evening

On top of the Sunset Dunes

I loved the warm, balmy evenings

The bars and restaurants came alive and the bands tuned their instruments for the late-night Samba, Reggae or Forro sessions. I have to confess; there were times when I wished that the kids were not around! Maybe next time. For a next time there will be! I’ll be back!

I really don’t know where this horse-craze comes from. To me, horses are big, scary and poop all the time. To Molly they are gorgeous animals and she loves them.

Coming on this trip, we asked the kids what they wanted to do or try. Max wanted to heli-ski steep chutes, surf big waves and try kiting. All Molly wanted to do was ride a horse. Daniel said to me “I’ll make sure we’ll find a way for her to ride. Leave it with me.” And Daddy came through on his promise. Molly got to ride 3-4 days a week in Jeri and the result speaks for itself. I’m so proud of her. And a little bit jealous. If I had had this as my first riding experience at the age of six, maybe I would have become a horse-girl myself.

Daniel’s dream was to ride the kite, Molly’s to ride a horse… Remembering how awful riding schools were in Sweden in the mid 70s, we thought it was worth a try to find a way for her to learn in Jeri. With the help of Sabrina, the lovely German girl running Xavi’s surf school with her local boyfriend, we found Antonio – a horseman through-and-through.

Over the five weeks, Antonio and Molly took a liking to each other. Antonio managed, without speaking a word of any language apart from Portuguese, to teach Molly how to ride. And I mean ride not just sit on a horse while it takes a leisurely stroll!

Showing Molly how to keep her feet when galloping

Always a watchful eye

Letting Molly ride by herself

Brownish was Molly’s favourite horse

Of course Molly wants to continue riding when we come home. Now there’s a challenge; how do you beat galloping along the beach with a guy who let’s you do all that by yourself?! Can’t see that the experience will be the same at a riding school in Munich. It certainly was anything but at Lillhagen, Höllviken, in 1975…

After hours and hours of lessons (11 days and counting) I finally felt that “yes, I can do this!”. I can’t believe how many mouths of water I have swallowed and how many nose rinses I have suffered to reach this point (days 2-3 were REALLY sh…t), not to speak of the  colon cleansing when trying to break (girls, do NOT wear bikini bottoms) – but here I am, kiting like a champ! Hmmm…. maybe more like a chimp but let’s not spoil the fun…

The “KiteIScool” kite school is really to be recommended! Paolo, a guy in his 30′ (I guess), and from Fortaleza, is running a great show with excellent instructors, new gear and a winning headset. André, my hunky 25-year old instructor (and no, this is unfortunately NOT the reason I “needed” so many instructor days), showed great patience and positive spirit. Just what I needed to kick myself forward and not give up. (That and the Dahlman stubbornness…)

Letitia, the 21-year old French/German kitebabe was my first instructor

André guided me to success

Max, of course, quickly became the instructors’ favourite and now carves, turns and kites with hair-raising speed. Naturally, I am extremely proud of my son, who has mastered this difficult sport so quickly and easily. But I must confess – and those who know me will not be surprised – that my ego is slightly dented. On the positive side – how many mothers-of-two learn a new, challenging sport at the age of 48?! Mum-power! Yeah!!