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.