Journey to the Forest

From Monday to Wednesday this week, I was in the Black Forest (think Black Forest ham and chocolate cake) about 2 hours drive from France, on a staff retreat with all of my co-workers.
     
On Monday morning we all piled into cars and drove two hours north from the Bodensee to a small town near Nagold.  I ended up in the anciently old Fiat van that belongs to the school with my friend Lorna, her husband, four Germans, another girl from Washington, and an Argentinian.  Quite a diversity for one car.  The van was creaking so much that we all half expected it to just fall apart into little pieces at any moment and leave us sitting on our bench seats in the middle of the Autobahn.

As we drove, we were frequently passed by Audi's, BMW's, and Mercedes', all going well over the speed limit, which is not enforced at all.  Just as frequently, though, we passed large trucks from countries such as Italy, Poland, the Netherlands, Turkey, Romania, and the Czech Republic.

We sped by cornfields, forests, small villages, pastures with horses and cos, and my favorite view of all, vineyards.  Rows upon rows of grapes cover many of the hills here in the south of Germany, trying to soak up the last of the summer sun.

When we passed one particular field of cows lazily eating grass, a very familiar smell reached my nose.  It was that distict smell that always accompanies cows and other animals.  I was instantly transported to my family's car on one of our many road trips through Montana, Wyoming, and Colorado.  I closed my eyes and could imagine my family smelling the same smell, only when most people would promptly cover their nose, my dad would always let out a loud "Ahhhhh..." of satisfaction.
On the ride, I had another wonderful travel companion: a large bag of the most wonderful grapes I have ever tasted.  They came from Italy in lovely wooden crates with painted words in Italian on the sides.  The kitchen where I work got three of these crates last week, and Lorna and I probably ate one entire crate by ourselves.  Just before we left, Robert, the head chef, saw that there was still some grapes left, so he gave them all to me because "they would be raisins" by the time we got back.  So me and the others in the Fiat shared them during the ride, and when we stopped for a quick bathroom break, Lorna threw them and the guys caught them in their mouths.  Altogether a joyful travel...