The last few days in Ehrwald passed in a blur of excitement. I had been settled and sedentary for a long time, so leaving here was like picking up and leaving home all over again. The final day dawned bright and sunny, melting the almost the last of the snow on the little hill. It was a good day to leave as the snow has been so bad this year that there are truly only a few days of the ski season less. But I managed to have an ideal final day. My classes were fairly streamlined at this point, with all the kids skiing excellently and confidently, and I was proud of them but, I have to admit, also the teeny tinyest bit ready to leave the world of small children which, though enormously rewarding, is enormously exhausting. I treated myself to a steaming bowl of goulash in the chalet with the other skilehrers as a bit of a farewell and then took off for a final hour of skiing. The smow, as I said, was atrocious, butb the ski was clear and the alps were beautiful and I love skiing and sailing at high speeds with total confidence over the same slopes where I first learned was amazing. I wore myself out as much as pòssible in that short hour, exploring every well known inch of the mountain, and then returned to kinderland for my final two hours with the kids.
When work was over I went into super functional mode, doing laundry, cleaning my room, mailing a package home, returning ski gear and uniform, collecting wages, and getting everything sorted for an early morning departure. All was done in an hour or so, and I made my way to Cafe Leitner, where Mariye and Nadieh awaited with huge steaming plates of Germknodel (doughy jam-filled ball of vanilla sweetness) and Kaisershmarren (chopped up pancakes in a mess of sugar and syrup and raisins)  and delicious Almdudler (the local herb soda which is amazing). We sat around laughing and enjoying our last afternoon in warmth and luxury. From there it was back to the apartment for a farewell dinner whose highlights included a bottle of Stubbs Wine (the first sip of which invoked such homesick nostalgia as to send me reeling back to the sun-browned grassy hills of west marin), a vast, decadent curry whipped up by Nadieh, and an incredible fruit, cookie, cream pie called a Montshuh Tart made by Mariye. There was also a round or two of Kareoke, and some serious reminiscing. Everyone swung by to say goodbye, and by the time I fell into a short deep sleep in my once-foreign and now-familiar room, I was sure that I was ready to go, but also that I would miss this place.