To those who wished me to, "Break a Leg."

I will say thanks for the luck, but will ask that you never do it again. In the last week, I have been from Germany, to St Gallen in the Eastern Switzerland, to Gstaad in the West.

In Germany, I stayed with a very old friend of mine in a very beautiful tiny little town (Forgot the name). Nancy teaches at a school on an American Military air base, and was kind enough to show me around. After spending over a month abroad, I have gotten used to seeing tiny little European cars zipping around. The second we got near the base, I started to see more and more American SUV's. When I say SUV's, I mean Ford Excursions and Chevy Tahoe, not explores and blazers. This was a complete shock to me, the first thing I thought of was the $100.00 it would cost to fill these things up. After saying something about them to Nance, she told me that they pay for gas on base, and that the cost is the same as in America, if not cheaper. On the base, you have no idea that you are not in the U.S. Everything is made to make you feel as though you never left. Micky D's, Harley Davidsons, you name it. So here I am in Europe, seeing all the culture there is to see here, and I feel like I am in the middle of the U.S at an air-base that I can't talk about. I would be lying if I did not feel a little at home there, but was glad to drive the mile and a half right back out in the gorgeous German countryside. The way Nancy lives here is amazing. Her house is a sprawling three bedroom house, with more space then she needs, but she has done a great job with it. Looking at her way of life here, I anyone could do it any better then she. Work is fifteen minutes from her home, and from the ancient town she lives in, you wouldn't have a clue there were any Yanks near you, never mind the biggest population of them in one place, not on U.S soil.

From there I traveled to Switzerland to see my friend Domi. St. Gallen is a very cool city in Switzerland. From what I saw, it was an amazing mix of small town/city, and unreal mountain side. Walking the little cobble stoned streets, seeing all the expensive shops, to be surprised when I look ed up to see a huge hill/mountain right on the edge of town. As you can imagine, this creates some amazing views of the city, which I was not able to see due to the snow that was falling the night I was there. Next time. Chilling with Domi was very fun. We walked around, drank coffee, and I did my best to make complete fools out of the two of us, typical American.

Off to Gstaad to see my friends James and Diana. Lets start with the train ride across the country. Mind blowing. This was the only trip I have ever taken that I did not read a word in any of the many books I am in the middle of. Sitting in my 1st Class seat, I was astonished by the sites on the left, right, up and down. To bad the trains do move a little slower, it was very hard to get it all.

Getting off the train I spot James immediately, wearing some sort of silly, stand out of the crowd, hat. I was glad to see that living the high life in Switzerland has not changed his mangled Newport roots. After saying hello, we walked to his their car, or should I say their Swiss Military Troop Carrier. This visit was off to a good start, here I am in Gstaad, Land of Range Rovers, Audis, and Porches, cruising the town in a army green truck, equivalent to that of a American Hummer, laughing my ass off. This thing rules. Arriving at the family Chalet in the hills above Gstaad, I am knock square on my ass by the view of the mountains they have. Being greeted by Diana and Isabella, their daughter, I was happy to focus my attention on Belly, knowing the view would be there for the duration of my trip, morning, day, and night. Diana, James, and Bella are expecting a little brother or sister in a month and a half, so you can imagine all the excitement in the house, perticulurly from Diana,, who is looking forward to being on the beach in Newport this summer, not pregnant.

After the first night there, it is clear that the Swiss Alps are one of the most beautiful places on earth. The Sun rising and setting on the mountains are worth the trip alone, never mind the air, snow, grass and trees. Waking up to the sun blaring on the snow covered mountainside, drinking coffee, strolling around their mid 1700's chalet, wood everything, history in every nook and cranny. Just breath and remind myself that I can always come back. I knew from the start that it would be hard to leave this place.

One day passed, when Diana's brother Guillaume and their childhood au-pair arrived. From this point on, Guillaume and I had one goal, rip up these mountains as much a possible. He achieved this goal, I did not. Rent Board, boots, buy three day pass. Get slope side, have some serious fun. The first day was unlike any other, the two of us traversed three mountains, hiked up to some unreal pow, tired ourselves out. Perfect. Day two, different area, a little more challenging. At the top of the first lift, I see that there is a huge peak to the West, and I want to get to it as fast a possible, typical dude, right? We get there, and I hit a killer trail, smile ear to ear. We get to the bottom, and hit the gondola back to the top. Nearing the top of the ride, we spot a very aggressive trail/chute below us that I am itching to hit. We agree to banging it out. Off the Gondy, around the restaurant, over the protective railing, and along a path most people would never even consider. After fifteen minutes of sphincter tight trail traversing, we are clicked into our gear, and ready to ride. He drops in, yelling at the top of his lungs with joy, I follow suite. Powder up to the knees, we fly to the lower section of the trail. Getting more comfortable with the trail now because the challenging part was now behind me, I start to sweep wide and fast. Left turn, 150 feet, right turn, 50 feet, bang. Something very wrong just happened.

On the second flip of my fall, I hear a loud "Thud!" You know, the one where your body says, "Houston, we have a problem." Pulling my head out of the snow after the fourth flip, I stand and evaluate the situation. "Head? OK. Hands, Arms, Legs? OK. Hips, Abs, Ass? 10%" Realizing that I had hit a rock with my tailbone, I just start to get moving down the trail to the bottom, you know, Food, Shower, Beer, pain Killers. Accomplishing this was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do. The peak we just rode was 2200 Meters up. I had just ridden about 400, so I had a long way to go. We split up so that Guillaume can get the car and bring my starving, crippled ass home. Once back at the Chalet, hobble to the table, eat as much food, say as little as possible, shower, bed. The time was 2:30. Bummer. The next day I could hardly walk. After apologizing to everyone for being no fun, I just focused on my aching back and right leg. Two days of house rest, I can't imagine a better place in the world to have to be immobile.

Walking like a little old lady that has had at least one hip replacement, I am now on the train to see my uncle John, AKA "Fud." Benson in Florence Italy. From there to Venice, then to the Amalfi coast, then to Rome to hang with my over-studying sister Abby. I hope you are all doing well, and I am certain you are looking forward to Spring. Good luck.. //db