"Hurricane Winds"

I found out yesterday that Germany has a weather term called "hurricane winds."

Germany doesn't actually get hurricanes (they do get tornadoes), but on especially windy days, the meterologists don't send out "wind advisories," they send out "hurricane wind warnings," telling us that we have everything in a hurricane going on, minus the immediate location near a body of water.

It sounded pretty funny to me, "hurricane winds." In the middle of a valley. Ha ha!

(Much like they don't have "Diet Coke," they have Coca-Cola Light instead. And yes, in glass bottles. So I think of you, Dave, every time I see them!!)


Alas, the weather men here must be right all the time, because yesterday's wind was brutal. Of all days to go, the foreign exchange program here visited a windmill farm, to see how they operate. And boy, the winds were whippin'!! We got to climb inside the base of one of the windmills, which is all hollow and has an office inside of it with a computer monitor to tell you the current wind speeds, how many kW of energy you are channeling from the raw wind, etc.

Well, those numbers change instantaneously, and it wasn't long before we were getting 100 km/hr winds. Hoa yeah, I ain't pulling your chain. 100 km/hr winds.

We ended up having to leave the windmill farm an hour early!

It rained and poured and peed from the skies all day yesterday. More than normal, too, which is hard to say, since Germany must have a rainy season. (It has rained EVERY DAY since we've been here. We've all gotten to the point of breaking out into random applause when the sun breaks through the clouds.)

Last night it was the worst, just trying to walk to the host home from my tram stop, down the hills, the cobblestone sidewalks, across the streets. There was mud everywhere, and downed tree limbs, and flooding here and there.

By the time I made it into the front door of the Meetz's apartment, my hair was rain-blasted onto the outside of my hood that I had pulled up over my head, my 4-wheel drive shoes (my infamous Skechers that I can get through anything in) were soaked through to my socks, my brown pants were wetter than water itself, and I surely looked like I just climbed out of a swimming pool.

I had to banana-peel my jacket off and hang it in my shower to dry, as well as leave my blue backpack by the radiator all night, to dry as well.

Pajama pants never felt so good. :) :)