The Black Forest

Newsflash - the Black Forest is neither a forest, nor is it black. Contrary to it's stark name it's a rather lush and pleasant landscape of rolling hills covered by deeply green pastures and woodsy patches of tall old trees. Karl was quite mesmerized by the whole landscape-cows-and-blue-skies thing, so now we're afraid he might turn into an outdoorsy kinda Patagonia type who doesn't share our passion for upholstered furniture and large television sets. He's probably gonna drag us out to the country as soon as he starts to develop something like a free will. Maybe we have to convince him that there is no such thing as free will (just a neurological illusion), beautiful nature (you never know, if acid rain, the ozone hole and Chernobyl fallout are really gone by now, do you?) or a healthy country life (think mad cows, lyme disease and "Deliverance").

Karl got to go to another farm though where they had a stable full of small and not so small animals. So far he likes goats the best. They got funny ears and spiky horns, but they aren't scary large like cows or cutesy lame like rabbits.

Karl also got to meet (and wrestle) his cousins down there. They are (clockwise from orange T-Shirt): cousin Thora (leader of the pack), sock hater Karl in his fancy plaid pants, cousin Max (he lives in Switzerland, already sponging off tax laws that would bring tears to your eyes if you'd know that you get real social services for almost no money there) and new arrival Tomas (not delivered by stork, but by Air Ethopia and seeming quite happy to adjust to his new posh Heidelberg surroundings after spending his first year in Addis orphanage squalor). Since we all stayed in a landmarked country inn recommended by the mighty Michelin Guide the long weekend turned into a perfect European large family event that we will submit to an agent for use in some health-food, red wine or full grain something commercial.

More Europe at it's best coming up. Next stop - Rheingau. For Maria's and Tim's wedding.