Monday, September 12, 2005
Deutsche-land, Deutsche-land, uber alles!
Note: the oomlat (sp?) is not supported by the German-hating folks at Internet Explorer so I changed it. Sorry to any Germans who are offended (as if the title isn't offensive enough)
"Uh, yeah, dad, we just need to swing by Albertson's to pick up the keg."
Even at 24 that sounded weird coming out of my mouth but my dad was game and let me throw a keg of New Belgium Sunshine Wheat (yum a dum dum) into the back of his rental car to drive it to a going away party for a friend (dad did not tap the keg, though the only thing keeping him from a keg stand, I contend, was a bad back).
It was the end of a whirlwind one-day tour of Idaho for Papa Druzin. He saw everything from the big city, Boise (Don't laugh. Actually, do.) to the rugged mountains and got an unrepresentatively delicious culinary tour of the state. After ascending from the Treasure Valley through the golden brown grassy fields of the foothills (actually, mostly made up of noxious invasive species with names like Medusa head and skeleton weed), and forested mountains, we wound up Highway 55 along the roiling Payette River. We stopped at Flight of Fancy bakery in Donnelly, near wear W stayed recently, where we inhaled a delicious huckleberry danish and were chatted up by an employee named Crystal, a cheeky hippy who bragged that her bran muffins caused the prez to make a hurried pit stop during his mountain bike ride ("Our bran muffins wait for no one.")
After a quick lunch and a delicious beer at the McCall Brewing Co., it was time for a relaxing soak at the rustic Burgdorf Hot Springs, about 40 miles north of electricity. It was Sept. 10 and we drove through a snow storm to get there.
Burgdorf is a beautiful harnessing of Idaho's geology. Volcanically heated spring water is piped in to a giant pool with a gravel bottom and timber walls. The temperature ranges from 104 in the main pool to 114 in a smaller pool that makes you feel like you're in some black and white film that takes place in Papua New Guinea, cooking in some cannibal's stew. After a relaxing soak with a stunning mountain backdrop I was brought back to reality when I asked the hot springs proprietor where I could find a garbage can.
He gave a toothless snarl and pointed at a sign that said "Pack it in, pack it out," explaining that there is no garbage service at Burgdorf before complaining about the guvermint. It was then that I noticed the tattered military shirt he was wearing and the German flag sewn into the shoulder. Welcome to Idaho!
"Uh, yeah, dad, we just need to swing by Albertson's to pick up the keg."
Even at 24 that sounded weird coming out of my mouth but my dad was game and let me throw a keg of New Belgium Sunshine Wheat (yum a dum dum) into the back of his rental car to drive it to a going away party for a friend (dad did not tap the keg, though the only thing keeping him from a keg stand, I contend, was a bad back).
It was the end of a whirlwind one-day tour of Idaho for Papa Druzin. He saw everything from the big city, Boise (Don't laugh. Actually, do.) to the rugged mountains and got an unrepresentatively delicious culinary tour of the state. After ascending from the Treasure Valley through the golden brown grassy fields of the foothills (actually, mostly made up of noxious invasive species with names like Medusa head and skeleton weed), and forested mountains, we wound up Highway 55 along the roiling Payette River. We stopped at Flight of Fancy bakery in Donnelly, near wear W stayed recently, where we inhaled a delicious huckleberry danish and were chatted up by an employee named Crystal, a cheeky hippy who bragged that her bran muffins caused the prez to make a hurried pit stop during his mountain bike ride ("Our bran muffins wait for no one.")
After a quick lunch and a delicious beer at the McCall Brewing Co., it was time for a relaxing soak at the rustic Burgdorf Hot Springs, about 40 miles north of electricity. It was Sept. 10 and we drove through a snow storm to get there.
Burgdorf is a beautiful harnessing of Idaho's geology. Volcanically heated spring water is piped in to a giant pool with a gravel bottom and timber walls. The temperature ranges from 104 in the main pool to 114 in a smaller pool that makes you feel like you're in some black and white film that takes place in Papua New Guinea, cooking in some cannibal's stew. After a relaxing soak with a stunning mountain backdrop I was brought back to reality when I asked the hot springs proprietor where I could find a garbage can.
He gave a toothless snarl and pointed at a sign that said "Pack it in, pack it out," explaining that there is no garbage service at Burgdorf before complaining about the guvermint. It was then that I noticed the tattered military shirt he was wearing and the German flag sewn into the shoulder. Welcome to Idaho!
# posted by Druz @ 12:32 PM 
