it's scary, really.

The extent to which my brain can affect me physiologically, I mean. Today was my level test (Stufentest) for German A1: should I pass, I am eligible to continue on to level A2. Should I fail, I must hang my head in shame, retire from society for a while, and then probably retake it at some point down the line. So despite the fact that I've had a test every other Friday for the last sixteen weeks or thereabouts, and have therefore grown accustomed to being under a certain level of pressure, I was just a weeny, woony bit nervous about this one. And so, at various points during said test, I found myself feeling as though I would A) pass out, B) vomit, or C) perhaps relive the joy of getting a migraine headache, as my upper lip, for some reason, went all numb and tingly. WHAT. THE. HECK. I'm not ill, I have no physical problems at this time (other than the usual...!), and yet there I am, trying to take a widdle test, and feeling like I'm going to topple over at any moment. It was utterly bizarre and appalling and amazing, all at the same time. Stupid brain. And if I get this anxious over something as relatively unimportant, in the grand scheme of things, as going on to the next level of German, do I really WANT to keep going? What might my brain inflict upon me next??

Anyway. I promised you Liechtenstein, and so Liechtenstein you shall have. Mike had a work holiday on the last Monday in July, so Sunday afternoon we took the bike to Liechtenstein, and why would we do such a thing? Because we could, and because it's there. FYI, it's actually a principality (Fürstentum), is smaller than Washington, D.C., and is one of the richest countries in the world. Their currency is the Swiss franc, and although their official language is German, they still greet you in Swiss German. There's a castle overlooking the capital city--Vaduz--but you can't visit it because the prince actually lives there. Weird little place, but so beautiful! And we found the people to be really nice, and quite fluent in English as well. Vaduz is quite pretty--in a valley, next to the Rhine River, between two fairly dramatic mountain ranges (Liechtenstein is also the only country to be entirely situated in the Alps...COOL), and we had perfect bike weather. Loved it.

The breakdown: we rolled into town and checked into our hotel, and while Mike was checking in I stood outside and kept an eye on the bike because I wasn't entirely sure that it was parked in a place that one might call "legal." In the mean time, I had my picture taken by a Japanese tourist. Entirely bizarre. After we got into our room, we took a two-hour ride up the mountain immediately to the east of the city, then explored the single street that constitutes Vaduz's historical district (walking it end to end probably took 10 minutes). Had some fantastic pizza for dinner (since everything else was, sadly, closed, it being a Sunday night) at Potenza: Mike had the capricciosa--spicy salami, capers, sardines (which he failed to notice when perusing the menu, ha, ha!)--and I had a delicious campagnola, with bacon, garlic, onions, oregano, and mushrooms (which I promptly gave to Mike). Really good pizza, our waitress was very pleasant, and we enjoyed a lovely dinner on their outdoor patio. Monday we got our souvenir passport stamps ('cause who doesn't want a passport stamp from Liechtenstein?), then caught a late breakfast at the tiny but fantastic Börsen Cafe, right on the "main drag," wherein Mike had a completely perfect grilled salami panini with both regular and sundried tomato pestos, and I demolished my own amazing panini with parma ham, goat cheese, arugula, and various pestos...sooooo tasty. Both of our sandwiches came with colossal mixed salads including scallions, peppers, carrots, and some sort of vinaigrette. Darn fine meal, and one I would highly recommend the next time you're passing through Vaduz at lunchtime.  Post paninis, we rode south to the town of Balzers, climbed the hill to their castle (from which we could see at least two other castles!!), checked out an interesting little stone church, then hopped on the bike to ride home through the insanely gorgeous hills of central Switzerland.

Riding in the mountains: turns out we followed this road essentially until it ran into a bowl and stopped. Here's the bowl, with a few locals who seemed somewhat puzzled by our presence.

Looking from the bowl into the town of Malbun. We're almost in Austria here.

This way to Sucka, suckers.

The ride back down the mountain. The scenery is waaaaay more dramatic than I could ever hope to capture with my remedial photography skills. (That's the Rhine at the bottom.)

Vaduz's castle and Rathaus.

Purty little church along the main (and only) drag.

We think this is the prince's box in the church.

Church 'n mountains.

The castle.

The castle dates back to 12th century, but here's this building. I suspect it's slightly more recently built. Really interesting mix of super old stuff and super new stuff in Vaduz.

This is apparently a popular European pastime: cutting your own flowers. These were gladiolus(es?).

Castle and mountains.

The foot bridge over the Rhine between Liechtenstein (the side we were on) and Switzerland (the other side). Long, dark, and full of horse apples, but we crossed it anyway.

South to Balzers and another castle...

...right next to another pretty little church.

View from the castle (Schloss Gutenberg). 

Another view from the castle. I heart our new wide-angle lens!

Schloss Gutenberg.

Schloss und Kirche. And mountains.

On this particular trip I tried something new: riding with the camera around my neck. I took some truly terrible photos, but at least you can get a feel for the scenery. Frickin' gorgeous.

Somewhere north of Vaduz.

Somewhere west of Liechtenstein, back in Switzerland. 

Monday, August 1, was the Swiss equivalent of Independence Day, although I think it's more like unification day: either way, there were Swiss flags everywhere.

Saw some neat buildings, but couldn't tell you where this was.

Think this was my favorite ride we've taken yet. Perfect weather, perfect scenery everywhere. I love the green, green hills, the little villages, the chalet-style architecture, the fields of sunflowers, etc., etc., etc. Just really idyllic, although you should know that on the bike, one can smell EVERY cow one passes. And Switzerland does, in accordance with tradition, have many, many cows.

Nifty shadows. 

Heh, heh. This is actually the name of some sort of swimmin' spot along Lake Zürich. Maybe its membership is limited to delinquents...?

As it was Switzerland's primary national holiday, we got home with expectations of fireworks, but found out later that Zürich proper does not actually host its own show. Several of the smaller towns along the lake, however, do, and you can see many of them from the Quaibrücke bridge, looking south down the lake. So. Mike and I, along with Jen, Dave, Aaron, and a bottle of cheap bubbly, went down to the bridge to stake out a spot. Upon our arrival, we discovered why so many little firework sales tents had sprung up in the previous month: because everyone buys their own gigantic (and perfectly legal!) fireworks and sets them off wherever they can find a little space (maybe a little dangerous, ok, but pretty spectacular!). We stood on the lake shore, watching the distant official city displays, and checking out all of the independent shows going on around us. The big fireworks are expensive, mind you, but it was very clear that a lot of people spent a lot of money preparing for that holiday. Sadly, I have no photos or video to commemorate the experience, but it was truly something we were not prepared for: crazy big fireworks in the hands of locals, shooting them off everywhere, with live music on our street until midnight! How terrifically un-Swiss of everyone! And really fun. Mike was ecstatic and is already planning to money with friends for our own fireworks next year. Yikes.

What I'm reading now: finished up the Black Bart book, which was seriously interesting, given that I knew nothing about him, and, as it turns out, he is quite underrated in the annals of pirate history. The guy was only really a pirate for 3 years, and managed to capture over 400 prizes! Really fascinating story, but I always find that when a historian takes a side--in this case, the author just kept defending how noble pirates really were, how much less bad they were than traditionally perceived, etc.--it certainly casts doubt, for me, at least, on the veracity of the story being told. As in, perhaps the author is putting a little extra, if not entirely accurate, polish on his subjects to prove his point. At any rate, it was a pretty informative and entertaining read, and it made me want to read more. Thus, onto The Pirate Hunter: the True Story of Captain Kidd, by Richard Zacks. Mr. Zacks' proposition is that Captain Kidd was not, in fact, a pirate, but a hunter of pirates, a position that runs somewhat counter to the common historical perception of the man. Knowing very little about Captain Kidd, I find the story compelling, but the book is loooong, and I find that it bogs down a bit more frequently than I'd like. I'm still reading, though: final verdict to come.

Wow...this was an epic post. I feel like I should give to you, my dear readers, a well-deserved break, at least for today. Fear not, though: there are plenty more musings to come. Stay tuned.