Then There Were Two...Again

Four happens to be my favorite number, that is until this week when our brood was knocked down to a mere quartet.  Not to say that amazing things haven't been accomplished by groups of four, just look at The Beatles, The Spice Girls and quite possibly the most impacting foursome of our time: The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.  It's just that is was amazing how quickly I got used to traveling with an entourage that would put 50 Cent's posse to shame.  With less than half our original man power, we still did our best to make our "four-fathers" proud. 

We ditched the hubbub of Slovenia's capital city for some R&R at Lake Bled.  Lake Bled is a glacial lake nestled in the Julian Alps.  It's reminiscent of the home in the Pacific North West mainly due to the relaxing atmosphere, affinity for outdoor activities and down right adorableness (that's right PNW, I think you're adorable too).  Since the majority of our nature activities lately have consisted of drinking outside as opposed to inside, we decided to shell out some Euro to have a someone else reacquaint us with Mother Nature by going white water rafting.  

When we get to the rafting launch site with 50 other nature challenged tourists the rafting company is dividing everyone up into various raft groups.  I'm praying in my head, "please no fucking children, please no fucking children, please no fucking children".  I feel this way for several reasons. First off, children are useless as part of a rowing team with their spindly, undeveloped muscles and general lack of work ethic (thanks a lot Xbox).  Secondly, they are constantly falling out of the rafts and most of society still believes you should interrupt your fun to save them from drowning.  Third of all, I may have one of the worst cases of turrets and no parent wants to subject their child to my colorful sailor's vocabulary.  Nor do I want to sensor myself while being thrown around in a glorified pool floaty.  In the end, my faithful praying payed off and zero children were assigned to our vessel.  Instead of useless children, we were assigned three useless young adults.  The one "man" of the group was positioned at the front of the raft where you need your strongest rowers.  Our guide incorrectly assumed that the lone male of the group would be up for the job.  The poor fella had probably never seen a gym in his life and looked like he had a serious phobia of eating.  So our group of four ex-rugby players were put on one side of the raft and Team Beanpole on the other side.  This all causing a noticeable and consistent drift to one side.  One of the gangly girls just stopped rowing at some point as well, enhancing the already embarrassing deficit.  The trip was actually incredibly fun and gorgeous out on the river.  Not to mention the ego stoking brought on from our superior rowing strength.  And luckily only one child fell out in the end; Kelly Brittan.

Then there were two.  Kelly and I on our own again.  So we went to where any rational person would go to ease the pain.  That is the home of The Sound of Music; Salzburg, Austria (also the country that brought us Arnold Schwarzenegger, but that fact is not nearly as uplifting and certainly less musical).  We weren't able/refused to pay for the official Sound of Music tour.  I shamefully have to admit here, and don't tell my mother, I don't particularly even like The Sound of Music.  Never mind that I can sing every single song.  It's just that no family actually talks to each other that civilly/sappily/cornily.   Then the movie tries to imply that all seven kids actually get along long enough to coordinate enough song and dance to fill the THREE overdrawn hours of that movie.  I hardly think so.  Growing up I remember stabbing my sister with a fork the first day into our summer vacation (which was all evened out when she hit me in the face with a shovel sometime later).  If you were to contain seven Gust children (thank god there were only two of us) in the Austrian countryside with no other friends, you better believe someone would have contracted a permanent limp and nobody would be singing about it.  "Bright swollen bruises and fresh sewn stitches.  Lopsided ankles and new gleaming crutches.  Internal bleeding from repeated beatings.  These are a few of my favorite things!".  Yet, Kelly still made me watch in anyway.  As they say; when in Salzburg, do as the Schwarzeneggers do...minus the whole cheating on your wife and having a secret love child part.  

Salzburg's Horsewash!