I sit, by the open window...listening to the rain falling and the church bells clanging...
It's really lovely...
Which I believe I can only say this today because I had 3 days of sunshine...or two and a half..however you slice the pie... Friday/Saturday/MOST of sunday.
It was nice and warm and I unfortunately spent it on the sofa, whining with bronchitis. Napping, and watching DVDs of Family Ties.
Granted, Michael and I did take a ride through Bamberg...which was all the engery I could muster. No walks. No marketing. No nothing but sitting in a car, drinking water to fight my cough and then coming home to nap, and drink gallons of hot tea with Echter Deuschter Honig.
The rain here in Germany is nearly constant. It had been going non stop for at least 20 days. Not only was it rainy, it was also cold. And by 'cold' I mean...in the 50's.
And last week, the night before I went to the doctor. I appeared in the kitchen door, (wearing a night gown, a pair of blue thick winter socks, and his flannel thick coat. Quite the ensemble...I may add my hair was wiley and my nose was red.)while my husband was cooking dinner (He forbad me to cook due to my being sick...sweet man, he is.)
He looked at me with kind of a stunned expression.
I wailed extra dramatic with cheese "I'm NEVER going to see the sun again. Ever. Until the 2 weeks in July when it comes out again."
and I promptly broke down into hard tears. I know for the most part, it was my being under the weather. I will cry over everything/anything/nothing when I am sick. It's the charm of me.
Micheal looked heartbroken for me. Standing there holding a stirring spoon up in the air like Lady Liberty and I was his tired, sick, poor and hungry. He came over to me, hugged me and said nothing.
I said between coughs and sobs " Everyone at home is having summer, still. I'm not used to this. I'm feeling smothered by the rain."
When in reality I know now it wasn't the grey clouds or the rain smothering me but my cold was keeping me from getting a deep breath.
Friday when the sun peeked through and burst out of the sky, my lovely husband wanted to call me from work. Just to tell me to have a little gander...
I was so thankful for this weekend of warm dry weather and lots of sun...
It makes the rain that came on this monday morning..not so bad after all.
Monday, August 23, 2010
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Weekends, German Class, and Rude People.
The weekends find Michael and I off discovering little things about Upper Franconia. We explore Bamberg, trying to get to know our new hometown. It is so exciting to mingle with the crowds of other saturday shoppers.
We pull our little phrase book to find the right things to say when the florist at the street market tells us that Nein. She does not Sprecht Englisch.
She smiles and waits patiently as we stumble through telling her how main Stücks of this flower, or that flower we'd like. Nodding when we get the words just right, or even kind of right. She presents us with our bouquet almost like it's a gift, and not something we're paying for.
She's chubby and short and reminds me of an elf. I decided, even when stumbling through our communication that I liked her. I liked the way she looked at us, trying to size the two of us up.
We sit at outdoor cafes drinking Spezi, most times with a dog panting at the table beside us. Sometimes the old dog will raise his head lazily and give a bark, just to add his two euro cents into whatever conversation...
We walk around cathedrals amazed at the beauty. Sometimes honestly, we went in not caring about the beauty, but seeking relief from the heat. The giant Cathedrals are cool inside, like G-d turns on the A/C for His Holy places. We were just happy to be in the sweet coolness, and we missed the most famous of all Bamberg's statues. Bamberger Reiter (the Horseman).
I stood right under him my perplexed gaze finding more interest in another statue. I didn't realize this until weeks later, when I was looking at a guide book.
I said, randomly, as if Mike should know exactly what I'm referring to, "What! We were right under that famous statue and I didn't bother to look up!"
He looked up from what he was doing and said "what are you talking about?"
I said "The Bamberg Horseman, we were standing right under him, but I was too obsessed with the grown man that was baby sized sitting on a woman's lap."
He said "Hmm..really?"
Some saturdays we are walking around old Castles, or palaces. My words alone could never capture the absolute thrill of standing on such historic sites. The age and history behind the buildings..incomprehensible to me. I'm standing in a Castle where ages ago, men held look out for intruders! or Kunigunde probably summered here.
Kunigunde, by the way, is my most favorite of Bambergers. I even LOVE her name. Any lady in history who proved her innocence by walking over hot coals has my admiration.
Saturdays, for the two of us, are filled to overflowing with excitement. We come home tired, bags in tow, Spezis in hand, grinning from ear to ear. Proud of ourselves for speaking German. Or astonishing over the fact that the sample lady at Tegut (our favorite little grocery) was giving out wine samples. While I'm handing Michael butters and cheeses to put away into the fridge I smiled, "Can you BELIEVE we shopped in a grocery while I drank wine?"
To which He responded "I know! That would never happen in the states!"
Every Saturday evening, we hurry inside our little apartment to pour over our loot like trick-or-treaters late halloween night. Or we rush into the kitchen to make dinner with whatever goodies we found in the outdoor markets or in the markt. Rosemary butter chicken, fresh veggies. Cheese. We are always about the cheese. In fact one of the first words we learned in German was: Käse. We barely get the front door closed before we are desperate to sample our findings.
But during the week....there's not much going on. Michael goes to work. I clean, I go to the library. But my favorite is German Class. I look forward to it.
The instructor, Heike, is a sweet woman who reminds me of a Garden Gnome. She says "Ja. Ja" in a deep voice. Or when someone says something correct she says "SUPER!" or "Ja wohl!"
Our class had a Brotzeit. (Brut-zyte)Which is a picnic. There were little breads or "brotla", spreads, various ham, radishes, pickles, polish tomato salad and pickled green beans. Our instructor and her Schwiegermutter prepared all of this for us. I was surprised by the kindness, and the excitement she had at sharing a Brotzeit with her class.
We sat around a picnic table and did baby german. "May I have a plate?" and "Can I have a fork?"
It was fun.
Except for...if you've ever wondered "well, why DO people hate Americans?" and you've probably thought this, based on yourself... You're nice. You have manners....etc...What could be so bad about Americans, right?
I say this because I felt the same exact way. I had no idea why anyone would hate Americans...
Well, here's the reason. I will tell you because I think you should be made aware.
There was a woman at our Brotzeit. Her brassy cluelessness made her annoying and highly rude.
She interrupted our "May I have a spoon, please?" exercise by saying "Yeah. But how you ask for a napkin?"
The tone she used made everyone stop talking.
We all looked at her.
She continued, without noticing that we've all got our eyebrows raised against her rudeness, "Cos I was at a restaurant and I ask for a napkin and no body know what I was wantin'. I had to act it out. Still they didn't know. So finally I say 'Gimme a KLEENEX.' And they know what I want then."
Hieke said "You only have to say 'Haben Sie eine Serviette.'"
The woman purses her lips, raises her eyebrow and says "I have to say all that? Can't I just say 'kleenex'?'"
And I couldn't help but think....The people at the restaurant, they knew exactly what you were wanting, they just didn't like how rude you were asking. That's why they made you act out what you wanted. Just to make you feel stupid. I kinda wanna high five the waitress.
This wasn't the only time she made herself seem like a rude/mannerless/idiotic American. She announced that no one would help her find her way from Schweinfurt to Bamberg. So she yelled "WHY no body WANNA help ME?"
Well, honestly, if I was in my hometown, and someone was yelling in her native language...well, I'd just keep walking, too.
My husband had huge eyes and just looked at the table.
It was like a fart in church. All the people in the class were dead silent.
Here we were, surrounded by the kindness of a lady trying to assist us in learning the language and customs of her home..and this rude woman is so full of ingratitude.
She sat there with an air of entitlement, not of graciousness.
Sadly, It is not an isolated case, either. I am often shocked by the sheer rudeness of our own people. It makes me want to apologize. It would mortify you. You'd think, these people are going out every day representing our good country.
It makes me feel terrible, especially when someone is going out of his or her way to make friends or show kindness to us Americans.
I can say with honesty that when my husband and I go out into town, we try to use the language, even if we say things wrong, we are greeted with smiles and nods. We have met more friendly people than rude. Never once have we ever had to stand in a street and yell "WHY WON'T ANYONE HELP US!" We never have had to play charades for a napkin, either...
I think cultural differences are harder for some to learn...but I think it's a good idea to learn about them before you ever step foot aboard your plane to your foreign destination.
Your trip will be less frustrating and you'll get to see how friendly the people can be....
It is my sincere wish that people like the woman in my German class would understand that this is NOT America, and many things will be different.
There are differences that I find difficult, too, like the staring. Germans stare very hard at people. And trust me, it feels weird, and awkward, but for the most part, we smile or nod and it ends the stare down.
I don't feel the need to scream at the top of my lungs in the middle of Schwienfurt.
I'm not perfect, I know I probably do things inadvertantly that offend Germans...but I try to be friendly and I try to speak their language...and I find myself greeted with more smiles than blank stares.
We pull our little phrase book to find the right things to say when the florist at the street market tells us that Nein. She does not Sprecht Englisch.
She smiles and waits patiently as we stumble through telling her how main Stücks of this flower, or that flower we'd like. Nodding when we get the words just right, or even kind of right. She presents us with our bouquet almost like it's a gift, and not something we're paying for.
She's chubby and short and reminds me of an elf. I decided, even when stumbling through our communication that I liked her. I liked the way she looked at us, trying to size the two of us up.
We sit at outdoor cafes drinking Spezi, most times with a dog panting at the table beside us. Sometimes the old dog will raise his head lazily and give a bark, just to add his two euro cents into whatever conversation...
We walk around cathedrals amazed at the beauty. Sometimes honestly, we went in not caring about the beauty, but seeking relief from the heat. The giant Cathedrals are cool inside, like G-d turns on the A/C for His Holy places. We were just happy to be in the sweet coolness, and we missed the most famous of all Bamberg's statues. Bamberger Reiter (the Horseman).
I stood right under him my perplexed gaze finding more interest in another statue. I didn't realize this until weeks later, when I was looking at a guide book.
I said, randomly, as if Mike should know exactly what I'm referring to, "What! We were right under that famous statue and I didn't bother to look up!"
He looked up from what he was doing and said "what are you talking about?"
I said "The Bamberg Horseman, we were standing right under him, but I was too obsessed with the grown man that was baby sized sitting on a woman's lap."
He said "Hmm..really?"
Some saturdays we are walking around old Castles, or palaces. My words alone could never capture the absolute thrill of standing on such historic sites. The age and history behind the buildings..incomprehensible to me. I'm standing in a Castle where ages ago, men held look out for intruders! or Kunigunde probably summered here.
Kunigunde, by the way, is my most favorite of Bambergers. I even LOVE her name. Any lady in history who proved her innocence by walking over hot coals has my admiration.
Saturdays, for the two of us, are filled to overflowing with excitement. We come home tired, bags in tow, Spezis in hand, grinning from ear to ear. Proud of ourselves for speaking German. Or astonishing over the fact that the sample lady at Tegut (our favorite little grocery) was giving out wine samples. While I'm handing Michael butters and cheeses to put away into the fridge I smiled, "Can you BELIEVE we shopped in a grocery while I drank wine?"
To which He responded "I know! That would never happen in the states!"
Every Saturday evening, we hurry inside our little apartment to pour over our loot like trick-or-treaters late halloween night. Or we rush into the kitchen to make dinner with whatever goodies we found in the outdoor markets or in the markt. Rosemary butter chicken, fresh veggies. Cheese. We are always about the cheese. In fact one of the first words we learned in German was: Käse. We barely get the front door closed before we are desperate to sample our findings.
But during the week....there's not much going on. Michael goes to work. I clean, I go to the library. But my favorite is German Class. I look forward to it.
The instructor, Heike, is a sweet woman who reminds me of a Garden Gnome. She says "Ja. Ja" in a deep voice. Or when someone says something correct she says "SUPER!" or "Ja wohl!"
Our class had a Brotzeit. (Brut-zyte)Which is a picnic. There were little breads or "brotla", spreads, various ham, radishes, pickles, polish tomato salad and pickled green beans. Our instructor and her Schwiegermutter prepared all of this for us. I was surprised by the kindness, and the excitement she had at sharing a Brotzeit with her class.
We sat around a picnic table and did baby german. "May I have a plate?" and "Can I have a fork?"
It was fun.
Except for...if you've ever wondered "well, why DO people hate Americans?" and you've probably thought this, based on yourself... You're nice. You have manners....etc...What could be so bad about Americans, right?
I say this because I felt the same exact way. I had no idea why anyone would hate Americans...
Well, here's the reason. I will tell you because I think you should be made aware.
There was a woman at our Brotzeit. Her brassy cluelessness made her annoying and highly rude.
She interrupted our "May I have a spoon, please?" exercise by saying "Yeah. But how you ask for a napkin?"
The tone she used made everyone stop talking.
We all looked at her.
She continued, without noticing that we've all got our eyebrows raised against her rudeness, "Cos I was at a restaurant and I ask for a napkin and no body know what I was wantin'. I had to act it out. Still they didn't know. So finally I say 'Gimme a KLEENEX.' And they know what I want then."
Hieke said "You only have to say 'Haben Sie eine Serviette.'"
The woman purses her lips, raises her eyebrow and says "I have to say all that? Can't I just say 'kleenex'?'"
And I couldn't help but think....The people at the restaurant, they knew exactly what you were wanting, they just didn't like how rude you were asking. That's why they made you act out what you wanted. Just to make you feel stupid. I kinda wanna high five the waitress.
This wasn't the only time she made herself seem like a rude/mannerless/idiotic American. She announced that no one would help her find her way from Schweinfurt to Bamberg. So she yelled "WHY no body WANNA help ME?"
Well, honestly, if I was in my hometown, and someone was yelling in her native language...well, I'd just keep walking, too.
My husband had huge eyes and just looked at the table.
It was like a fart in church. All the people in the class were dead silent.
Here we were, surrounded by the kindness of a lady trying to assist us in learning the language and customs of her home..and this rude woman is so full of ingratitude.
She sat there with an air of entitlement, not of graciousness.
Sadly, It is not an isolated case, either. I am often shocked by the sheer rudeness of our own people. It makes me want to apologize. It would mortify you. You'd think, these people are going out every day representing our good country.
It makes me feel terrible, especially when someone is going out of his or her way to make friends or show kindness to us Americans.
I can say with honesty that when my husband and I go out into town, we try to use the language, even if we say things wrong, we are greeted with smiles and nods. We have met more friendly people than rude. Never once have we ever had to stand in a street and yell "WHY WON'T ANYONE HELP US!" We never have had to play charades for a napkin, either...
I think cultural differences are harder for some to learn...but I think it's a good idea to learn about them before you ever step foot aboard your plane to your foreign destination.
Your trip will be less frustrating and you'll get to see how friendly the people can be....
It is my sincere wish that people like the woman in my German class would understand that this is NOT America, and many things will be different.
There are differences that I find difficult, too, like the staring. Germans stare very hard at people. And trust me, it feels weird, and awkward, but for the most part, we smile or nod and it ends the stare down.
I don't feel the need to scream at the top of my lungs in the middle of Schwienfurt.
I'm not perfect, I know I probably do things inadvertantly that offend Germans...but I try to be friendly and I try to speak their language...and I find myself greeted with more smiles than blank stares.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
A little remedy for enduring the heat without A/C
I've made no secret about the sheer lack of air conditioning. In fact, I've complained and whined about the predicament to anyone or anything that has ears. I've acted like a wilted flower, I've pouted, I've stamped my foot, I opened the fridge and freeze a stood in front of it a la Laverne & Shirley. I even cried actual tears for my longsuffering.
Unfortunately, my audience has mostly been my understanding husband.
But I've also found a new ritual in which to escape the heat. My beloved and much needed mid-to-late afternoon cold bath (Sometimes with Caress pulling double duty as body wash AND bubble bath.) It is literally the only reprieve that can be found from the heat.
I make a lovely production of it, if I do say so myself.
I turn the lever on the facet to cool. I'm not looking for luke warm. I want cool as can be. Cooler than a cucumber. I want Shiver-me-timbers! That is Cold!
I make my hair into a haphazard bun.
I put my latest favorite music on loop.
I stick a toe in and feel the delightful coolness wrap around my toe, inviting me to just sink in.
Once inside, I swing my bathroom windows open, letting in any breeze (even if it is stale), and not minding the sun shining down on the water.
I sink back into my divinely deep soaker tub, happy that I'm hidden in my own world from the prying eyes of neighbors.
I close my eyes and sing along with Ella...
"Fish got to swim, birds got to fly, I got to love one man 'til I die. Can't help lovin' dat man of mine...."
Unfortunately, my audience has mostly been my understanding husband.
But I've also found a new ritual in which to escape the heat. My beloved and much needed mid-to-late afternoon cold bath (Sometimes with Caress pulling double duty as body wash AND bubble bath.) It is literally the only reprieve that can be found from the heat.
I make a lovely production of it, if I do say so myself.
I turn the lever on the facet to cool. I'm not looking for luke warm. I want cool as can be. Cooler than a cucumber. I want Shiver-me-timbers! That is Cold!
I make my hair into a haphazard bun.
I put my latest favorite music on loop.
I stick a toe in and feel the delightful coolness wrap around my toe, inviting me to just sink in.
Once inside, I swing my bathroom windows open, letting in any breeze (even if it is stale), and not minding the sun shining down on the water.
I sink back into my divinely deep soaker tub, happy that I'm hidden in my own world from the prying eyes of neighbors.
I close my eyes and sing along with Ella...
"Fish got to swim, birds got to fly, I got to love one man 'til I die. Can't help lovin' dat man of mine...."
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Early thoughts about Germany....
I would like to say that Europe is a fabulous place, but seeing as I've only truly had the small town Germany experience, I feel I'm unable to report on the continent as a whole.
But Germany is lovely.
My first day went something like a dream. I was jet lagged into believing it was still, in fact, Friday (The day I left America).
Imagine standing on a bridge that houses the centuries old town hall, right in the middle of a flowing river.
A river that has seen more excitment and horror than imaginable.
Listening to people speak rapidly a language that you only know a few of it's baby words.
Smelling all the various local aromas...
And not feeling like you're dreaming, especially after traveling beside a man who smelled of moth balls, jovan musk, and almond breath for 7 hours.
It's like a fairy land. Something ripped from the pages of Grimm's.
And I instantly without a doubt loved it here.
I stood there with the excitement of a new convert to a different religion. The thoughts going through my mind were as follows:
1. It's so beautiful here.
2. I don't speak the language, so therefore, I can just talk freely with my husband 'cause we are in our own little bubble.
3. This has to be a dream.
4. I wonder if that old man staring at me was a Nazi in his hayday.
5. I smell Armpits.
It is so very beautiful here. The old part of town is absolutely astounding. It looks like a fairy tale came to life, and is just happilserving you coffee and a side dish of kraut at a sidewalk cafe. (Yes. Kraut is a side dish. It comes in a pretty little bowl. Just like we'd get a side of mashed potatoes. They have their kraut.)
I walked around with Michael, and since everyone was speaking loud and fast German and all I could possible conjure was "Tschuss! Danke!" For that one day, no one exsisted in the world, but me and my husband.
All the rest were extras in our movie. The only conversation we engaged in was with each other. It was absolutely marvelous.
After we left the Cathedral of Bamberg (There is a ton of churches/cathedrals here, but that one got top spot because a pope is buried there. Pope Clement. Rest Clem's soul. Ohm. Or whatever holy sound catholics make.) My darling lovely husband led me, without telling me where we were going, across the Cathedral Square to New Residence and through a gate. I love this about my husband. He delights in small surprises. I said "I smell...Rose's."
He smiled "Yeah?"
"Yeah." I said "Strong. It's...nice."
He smiled at me, I said "Do you smell it? Smell. Smell it?"
He said "Yeah. I do."
I was not prepared for what enchantment I was thisclose to beholding. The Rose Garden or Rosengarten.
We walked through an archway, and before me was every rose in the universe. (I found out later it was only 72 different varities. But I bet that's close to every variety known to the universe.)
It was so stunning that I just couldn't believe I wasn't asleep.
Michael said "Oh. Wow. Wow. This is...amazing."
St. Michael's cathedral was up above us, just adding to the glamour of it all.
Shortly after we were meandering around laughing at names of Roses (Schneewitchen, Yankee Doodle, Paprika) Some elderly German men broke into song.
No. I'm serious.
They were just singing their hearts out, letting their words fly over the red rooftops of Bamberg.
I said "Are they for real?"
Mike said "It's so beautiful here."
I said "I think you've dropped me into a dream!"
He said, clearly amused by my enchantment, "I love you."
It may be uncouth of me...but I'll say it. Every old person in Germany scares me. Every last one of them. Even the one walking with two canes down the sidewalk of Zollnerstrasse, even though I know I could've totally taken her, she scared me. I'm not frightened because I'm afraid I will catch TB from them, or that standing by them will make ME smell like moth balls, also.
No. It's because despite the fact that it was over 60 years ago, I can't help but see them as they were. All blonde and blue eyed. Crowding the streets. Heiling Hitler. Smiling. Cheering. Waving their little Nazi Flags. Some of the women with posters of Hitler on their bedroom walls thinking he was "So Dreamy."
Men, all decked out in Nazi regalia soullessly causing murder and mayhem to run it's evil course.
I think of how they made their little children wear SS uniforms. And how those indoctrinated children today, are white haired and wanting to sell me a Schnitzel. AND, if they were indoctrinated at such a toddling about age....how can they not still hold to the idea that Hitler was their hero?
It makes me shiver to think that while they were cheering on an evil doer, millions were being baked in ovens.
And so, when I see an elderly person, I walk on the other side of my husband, and hold onto his arm. Keeping the reality of what they did as far from me as possible.
However, it must be said, that the Germans I have met, so far, are very nice. In fact, most of them go out of their way to teach us the German word for this. Or remind us that the football game is on in one hour.
Even one particularly stinky teenboy with lots of facial piercings came up to us asking for a light for his cigerette and politely said "Entschuldigung...."
I say stinky because truly, everyone knows that Europeans have a knack for...smelling like they have two thick slices of white onion, one stuffed under each armpit.
It's true. They do. I always used to judge them. I admit it. I did. I was so judgemental. I felt so high and mighty with my Degree Fresh Rain Scented Deoderant. I wondered why they chose not to use any at all.
By the end of my second day in Bavaria, I understood their plight and was sympathic. Why, you ask? Because by Sunday night, I smelled just like them.
You see, despite caking deodorant on (and, sister, cake is the WORD. I applied it with ferver!) I still managed to smell like there was a new scent out by Lady's Speed Stick called Garlic and Onions Der Frau.
I blame it on their boycotting air conditioning. Trust me when I tell you, this is a virtually aircondition free environment. Which means, you literally sweat. Like Richard Simmons, but without the catchy oldies to sing along with.
However, instead of giving up the fight and letting the armpits win...I upgraded to clinical strength secret. Problem solved!
Thus far, I have found that I love our new found home. I love the church bells. I love the laid back street markets, I love the bakery smells and the Italian Ice Cream, I love the abundance of Spezi, I love the little blonde baby who leaned, shirtless, out of his hot apartment to look at us. When I said "Hi!" I remembered he probably doesn't speak English so I quickly said "Guten Tag!" he smiled, and waved at us. Not the open-close hand wave that babies are so famous for, but he put his chubby fingers together and waved, Queen of England Style, amusing me and my husband. I love the fact that the sun rises at 4:30am and does set until after 10pm. I love the candies, I love Bavarian Charm, and I love driving through the countryside passing castles like it's nothing.
It's just about perfect.
I just wish you all, every one of you, could be here, too.
But Germany is lovely.
My first day went something like a dream. I was jet lagged into believing it was still, in fact, Friday (The day I left America).
Imagine standing on a bridge that houses the centuries old town hall, right in the middle of a flowing river.
A river that has seen more excitment and horror than imaginable.
Listening to people speak rapidly a language that you only know a few of it's baby words.
Smelling all the various local aromas...
And not feeling like you're dreaming, especially after traveling beside a man who smelled of moth balls, jovan musk, and almond breath for 7 hours.
It's like a fairy land. Something ripped from the pages of Grimm's.
And I instantly without a doubt loved it here.
I stood there with the excitement of a new convert to a different religion. The thoughts going through my mind were as follows:
1. It's so beautiful here.
2. I don't speak the language, so therefore, I can just talk freely with my husband 'cause we are in our own little bubble.
3. This has to be a dream.
4. I wonder if that old man staring at me was a Nazi in his hayday.
5. I smell Armpits.
It is so very beautiful here. The old part of town is absolutely astounding. It looks like a fairy tale came to life, and is just happilserving you coffee and a side dish of kraut at a sidewalk cafe. (Yes. Kraut is a side dish. It comes in a pretty little bowl. Just like we'd get a side of mashed potatoes. They have their kraut.)
I walked around with Michael, and since everyone was speaking loud and fast German and all I could possible conjure was "Tschuss! Danke!" For that one day, no one exsisted in the world, but me and my husband.
All the rest were extras in our movie. The only conversation we engaged in was with each other. It was absolutely marvelous.
After we left the Cathedral of Bamberg (There is a ton of churches/cathedrals here, but that one got top spot because a pope is buried there. Pope Clement. Rest Clem's soul. Ohm. Or whatever holy sound catholics make.) My darling lovely husband led me, without telling me where we were going, across the Cathedral Square to New Residence and through a gate. I love this about my husband. He delights in small surprises. I said "I smell...Rose's."
He smiled "Yeah?"
"Yeah." I said "Strong. It's...nice."
He smiled at me, I said "Do you smell it? Smell. Smell it?"
He said "Yeah. I do."
I was not prepared for what enchantment I was thisclose to beholding. The Rose Garden or Rosengarten.
We walked through an archway, and before me was every rose in the universe. (I found out later it was only 72 different varities. But I bet that's close to every variety known to the universe.)
It was so stunning that I just couldn't believe I wasn't asleep.
Michael said "Oh. Wow. Wow. This is...amazing."
St. Michael's cathedral was up above us, just adding to the glamour of it all.
Shortly after we were meandering around laughing at names of Roses (Schneewitchen, Yankee Doodle, Paprika) Some elderly German men broke into song.
No. I'm serious.
They were just singing their hearts out, letting their words fly over the red rooftops of Bamberg.
I said "Are they for real?"
Mike said "It's so beautiful here."
I said "I think you've dropped me into a dream!"
He said, clearly amused by my enchantment, "I love you."
It may be uncouth of me...but I'll say it. Every old person in Germany scares me. Every last one of them. Even the one walking with two canes down the sidewalk of Zollnerstrasse, even though I know I could've totally taken her, she scared me. I'm not frightened because I'm afraid I will catch TB from them, or that standing by them will make ME smell like moth balls, also.
No. It's because despite the fact that it was over 60 years ago, I can't help but see them as they were. All blonde and blue eyed. Crowding the streets. Heiling Hitler. Smiling. Cheering. Waving their little Nazi Flags. Some of the women with posters of Hitler on their bedroom walls thinking he was "So Dreamy."
Men, all decked out in Nazi regalia soullessly causing murder and mayhem to run it's evil course.
I think of how they made their little children wear SS uniforms. And how those indoctrinated children today, are white haired and wanting to sell me a Schnitzel. AND, if they were indoctrinated at such a toddling about age....how can they not still hold to the idea that Hitler was their hero?
It makes me shiver to think that while they were cheering on an evil doer, millions were being baked in ovens.
And so, when I see an elderly person, I walk on the other side of my husband, and hold onto his arm. Keeping the reality of what they did as far from me as possible.
However, it must be said, that the Germans I have met, so far, are very nice. In fact, most of them go out of their way to teach us the German word for this. Or remind us that the football game is on in one hour.
Even one particularly stinky teenboy with lots of facial piercings came up to us asking for a light for his cigerette and politely said "Entschuldigung...."
I say stinky because truly, everyone knows that Europeans have a knack for...smelling like they have two thick slices of white onion, one stuffed under each armpit.
It's true. They do. I always used to judge them. I admit it. I did. I was so judgemental. I felt so high and mighty with my Degree Fresh Rain Scented Deoderant. I wondered why they chose not to use any at all.
By the end of my second day in Bavaria, I understood their plight and was sympathic. Why, you ask? Because by Sunday night, I smelled just like them.
You see, despite caking deodorant on (and, sister, cake is the WORD. I applied it with ferver!) I still managed to smell like there was a new scent out by Lady's Speed Stick called Garlic and Onions Der Frau.
I blame it on their boycotting air conditioning. Trust me when I tell you, this is a virtually aircondition free environment. Which means, you literally sweat. Like Richard Simmons, but without the catchy oldies to sing along with.
However, instead of giving up the fight and letting the armpits win...I upgraded to clinical strength secret. Problem solved!
Thus far, I have found that I love our new found home. I love the church bells. I love the laid back street markets, I love the bakery smells and the Italian Ice Cream, I love the abundance of Spezi, I love the little blonde baby who leaned, shirtless, out of his hot apartment to look at us. When I said "Hi!" I remembered he probably doesn't speak English so I quickly said "Guten Tag!" he smiled, and waved at us. Not the open-close hand wave that babies are so famous for, but he put his chubby fingers together and waved, Queen of England Style, amusing me and my husband. I love the fact that the sun rises at 4:30am and does set until after 10pm. I love the candies, I love Bavarian Charm, and I love driving through the countryside passing castles like it's nothing.
It's just about perfect.
I just wish you all, every one of you, could be here, too.
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