wandern gehen

Tschüß München

2010-08-09T20:34:00.001+02:00

Can you believe it? A year ist fast dabei! Our time in Munich has come to an end.

Tomorrow is Reisetag. We head for the airport at 8:30am. If all goes according to plan (knock on wood, because it usually doesn't), 11:40am is wings-up.

This year was full of wonderful experiences and interesting challenges, zum beispiel: attempting to speak German, trying to fit in with Deutsche Kultur, and learning to like pork (I'm still working on that one). We met amazing people and were afforded fantastic Erfahrungen. Our time here was taken advantage of to the fullest extent.

We also have a big year ahead of us. In the next two weeks, we are planning to pack-up again and move up through the South and into the Northeast. We have the world of maple syrup, cheddar cheese, and Ben and Jerry's to explore: Vermont.

We hope you'll stay with us as we begin our new adventures.

And with that:

Now it's time to say goodbye to all our company.
M-Ü-C, C ya real soon!
N-H-E-N, Naja, because we like you!
B-A-Y-E-R-N.

High Stakes Cleaning

2010-08-09T16:47:00.003+02:00

Early last Saturday morning, Jamie and I set off for the local hardware store to pick up some painting supplies. We were taking the first steps on a long journey towards making it seem like we had never been in Munich--well, to be more specific, we wanted to create the impression that we had never lived in our apartment, a goal which we both dearly hoped was not a futile one. On the line was the massive deposit we'd had to plunk down last November when our 6-week-long apartment search had brought us to the point of accepting almost any place with four walls, a roof, and a working internet connection. Paying up the deposit at the time we moved in was an almost gleeful experience--the long search for somewhere to live was finally over, and we were cleared to move in!

Shortly thereafter the reality set in. Each time we scuffed the floor, left a mark on the wall or sat on the couch the wrong way, we heard the imaginary cha-ching of another few Euros being deducted from our deposit--the money we had been forced to save back in the fall seemed to be dwindling, despite the fact that no one could get anywhere near the account it was being held in.

So after months of feeling uneasy each time we dropped something or left muddy tracks on the hallway floor (a particularly easy task during a long, snowy winter and a cool, wet spring), we were definitely ready to clean. The potential payoff seemed huge--each hour of cleaning could earn us a few days' rent in Vermont (if we didn't blow it on beer and Brezeln before we ever made it out of Bavaria)!

Then again, our deep-seated worry that no matter what we did and no matter how hard we scrubbed, it wouldn't be good enough wouldn't let up, either. After hours of trying to remove a year's worth of grime from our oven rack, I wavered between fears that the rack was nowhere near clean enough because it still had a couple specks burned onto it, and hopes that no one would even bother to check that closely anyway. All this led to doubts about the economics of the whole cleaning enterprise--were we actually saving money, or just wasting time?

The suspense was miserable. Luckily, there is lots of good beer in Munich, and this being our last week here, even a solitary ray of sunshine seemed a clear signal that it was time to put down the mop and the paint brush and head for the local beer garden. We spent several evenings there last week imagining just what would happen on Sunday when our landlord came to check in on our work.

In the end, things worked out fine. Even though the sun was shining, the accumulated dust and grime of a year of our lives (not to mention the billows of dirt and grime constantly blowing in our windows from the construction site across the street) were not enough to dissuade our landlord from returning our deposit. Instead, he watched a few minutes of Shawn the Sheep to make sure the TV was still working and briefly turned on the radio--which gave him cause to ask us whether we liked Bavarian music--before showing us the money.

We were done, and it was a nice August day in Munich. The kind of day where even Jamie was forced to admit that the weather was "almost summery." We headed straight for the beer garden.

We had just about enough time to finish our celebratory drinks before the bad weather set in. We departed in a light drizzle, and then watched out our window as a huge thunder storm attacked the city. Later that night, we braved the weather to meet a friend for a drink downtown. At around 11pm on Sunday night, we waited for the subway to ride home and get some rest before another day of jumping through bureacratic hoops and rewarding ourselves with a few hours in the beer garden.

While the three of us were standing there, bemoaning the miserable weather that had once again descended on Bavaria, we watched a team of workers cleaning trash from between the rocks and rails down on the subway tracks. One stooped over to pick something up and emerged with a sheet of bubble wrap at least three feet long. But mostly, they were scooping up litle bits of wrappers or unnoticable cigarette butts that had found their way into hiding places between the pieces of gravel.

A display above the platform lets passengers know when the next train is approaching. As the minutes ticked down, we grew increasinlgy concerned about the cleaning crew. Even after the monitor informed us that our train was approaching in less than one minute, the workers continued searching for the wretched refuse of the Munich subway system. Finally, when it seemed like we could already feel the wind that the train pushes down the tunnel picking up, a siren went off, and the workers dived into a small cavity under the platform. The train sped into the station and we got on board. The workers must have been right next to its fast-moving steel wheels as we minded the gap and boarded above them.

Now, I realized, we knew what real high stakes cleaning looks like. After all, what else can you call playing chicken with a subway train in order to remove some bubble wrap? And perhaps these workers' experience was even more German than our whole struggle to clean our apartment. Where else in the world do people risk their lives to remove a couple pieces of trash from a mice-infested subway track? Our companion, a Bavarian who had recently moved back to the Southern Germany from Hamburg answered this question before we even had a chance to ask it out loud. "Only in Munich!" he remarked as we sat down in the spotless subway car.

Wandern Gehen...Goes Wandern

2010-08-03T22:23:00.001+02:00

Wandern literally means: to hike or to go hiking. Both my hubby and I love wandern. And being that the Alps are only two hours from Munich by train, we decided to take advantage of our location and spend our last couple of weekends in Bayern exploring these wondrous mountains.

As you can see in the first two pictures below, summer in Germany is not always "summer" as we know it; however, no matter the weather, the Alps are incredible.

The best part about hiking in Germany is that there is a Biergarten every few kilometers and on top of every mountain peak. I think that the only reason that Germans go hiking is to have an excuse to drink. No joke.

Thirsty? How 'bout a frothy beer?! Hungry? Stop for schnitzel! Cold? A steaming hot chocolate will warm you right up!

As a nature purist, I had a lot of trouble getting used to the mountain-side-Biergarten-concept. But after gaining 1.5 kilometers in altitude over 10 kilometers on a chilly summer day, a steaming plate of Käsespätzle easily changed my attitude.

It's just amazes me that after so many brewskies, all hikers make it safely back down the trails.

This past weekend Steve, our friend Christian, and I hiked (well, more like conquered) the treacherous trail up to King Ludwig's hunting lodge, resting 5,628 feet above our point of origin.

First, we marveled over the Partnachklamm, a 700-meter long, deep-cut gorge in the middle of the Alps. Unfortunately, my pictures did not do it justice, so you only get to see one:

Then, about half-way through our climb up, we thought we were fast da. Discovering that we were only half-way was quite a disappointment. At that point we cursed Steve for wanting to fulfill his dream of visiting all of crazy King Ludwig's creations...but, we kept trudging on and on.

The views provided us with inspiration...

...and so did the wild life.

Finally...in the distance...we spotted the lodge!
(No, not the building in the foreground.)

Eventually, we made it, drank a Spezi, and went on a tour of the King's favorite birthday celebration destination. There was even a special surprise at the end of the tour! However, if you want to learn more and/or see the lodge, then you have to work as hard as we did to get there. Trust me, it's worth the effort.

Mud Pie in the Eye

2010-07-28T18:20:00.000+02:00

Just like a little puppy, Steve has been begging me repeatedly to write a post about the "fouling of footways by dogs" in London.

I agree that dog owners are responsible for cleaning up after their little friends. Dog-doo is gross. And. It's even more disgusting when it's stuck to the bottom of your shoe...or your husband's shoe...or your friend's shoe. The smell alone is nauseating. But did you know that dog poop is dangerous, too?

Yep. You read it here first. Or maybe you already discovered this statistic yourself, but that's beside the point. "Every year up to 700 people are blinded after contact with dog mess." Yikes! Does that statistic only include Londoners? Should I be worried? Is there a flush I can use if I ever get dog crap in my eye? Please help!

Bottom line: clean up after your dog or you will be fined.

Otherwise, someone else will have to pick up the mess for you (gasp!), which invariable, will never happen....unless someone steps in it, which doesn't really count.

Worst of all, if you are walking a dog in London and fail to comply with the rules, you are liable to prosecution. Do you want that on your record?!

To avoid a big mess, clean up after your dog's mess. There are even special bins provided so you don't have to carry around a poop-filled doggie bag throughout the city.

Design Time

2010-07-28T01:10:00.009+02:00

Yes.
You are in the right place.
No.
You aren't seeing things.
wandern gehen is experimenting with a new look.

What do you think?!
I bet I can guess...

You like the look.
But.
You're annoyed.
I've spent time too much time obsesessing over font colors.
And.
Not enough time entertaining you.

I can't say that I blame you.
You have a right to be annoyed.
There are no excuses.

Well...
There is one.
Actually, it is more of an explanation than an excuse:
I have been in blog-post-procrastination-mode since June.

Maybe it was the three weeks of insanely nice weather and/or writers block, but instead of writing, I have been focused on organizing a gigantic move (and, in my spare time, enjoying a little "R and R" on the Isar).

There.
I admitted it.
I procrastinate...sometimes.
Are you happy?

Oh! And in case I forgot to mention it earlier, beginning August 30, Steve and I repositioning ourselves in a new zip-code: 05301 (a.k.a. Brattleboro, Vermont).

SIT...here I come!

Brief Notes on Slovakia

2010-06-10T23:09:00.000+02:00

After spending time in Poland, I expected Slovakia to be pretty rundown. For some strange reason, I had imagined most of Eastern Europe to be shabby and neglected. Well, Überraschung! Slovakia is nice. I mean...really nice. Our jam-packed trip (tacked on to the end of our time in Vienna) lasted only a mere two days. In that time, however, our friend and guide, Noemi, managed to show us a fair bit of her beautiful country.

BRATISLAVA and NITRA:

Picturesque Downtown Bratislava

Outside a Restaurant in the Outskirts of Nitra
(The Slovakian landscape reminded me a lot of Franken in Germany.)

Noemi and Steve in Bratislava

Cozy Confines of a Delicious Slovakian Restaurant

Deserted Downtown Nitra on a Quiet Sunday Afternoon

Wiener Weather

2010-06-09T23:40:00.002+02:00

I don't want to jinx it, but the weather in Munich is finally summer-izing. For the first time this season, walking ten minutes from my house to the U-Bahn made me perspire. Everyone in the streets was eating ice cream (except for me). And, I actually managed to acquire some red on my bare shoulders, etching a fat tan line into my exposed skin as a warm reminder of the beautiful day.

Summertime in Munich is the happiest time in Munich. Beer gardens fill to the brim with people, just as the steins overflow with brew. Music blares from green spaces across the expanse of the city as people bask in the vitamin D glory.

A few weeks ago, Steve and I traveled to Vienna spend the day with one of Steve's old professors, Andy Markovitz, who is teaching a summer course at the Universität Wien. We also stayed to play tourists for a few days following our meeting.

Unfortunately (or fortunately), the majority of our time in Vienna was spent ducking through the rain from one cafe to the next, from one museum to the next. For the most part, the weather was opposite the glorious blue-sky heaven that we Münchners experienced today. Yet, if there is one place to be when it's frigid and damp, it's Vienna. Nothing warms you better on a soggy, 40 degree day than sitting in a cozy cafe nook, drinking a Viennese coffee, and eating a delicious piece of cake. Gotta love café kultur!

Ladies and gents, VIENNA:

Café Kultur at Its Finest...Afternoon Cake at Café Central
(In the late 19th century, Café Central was a meeting place for the intellectual minds of the time. It was often frequented by Lenin, Trotsky, Freud, and Herzl. These smarties must have come for the cake, because it was delicious!)

"In Love in Vienna Today: 352091" +2

Side Entrance to the Hofburg Palace
(The Hofburg housed the Habsburg dynasty...sadly, I can't really tell you anything more about it, except that it is a HUGE, gray concrete complex.)

Figlmüller: The Best and Biggest Schnitzel EVER!
(Schnitzel at Figlmüller was recommended to Steve and I by my tandem partner, Jana. And man...that was the best schnitzel I have ever tasted! It was also giant...bigger than my head...COLOSSAL. Despite its vast expanse, I was excited and determined to eat the entire stuck. Unfortunately, I vowed to post only five pictures per place visited for my current blog posts series, because I have pictures of Steve and I attempting to devour our groß meal. Steve succeeded. Sadly, however, just under half of my schnitzel ended up in a take-home bag and then in the trash. I became too full to finish. They say, "Waste not, want not," but I would have been happy for a smaller portion size.)

Silhouette of the City Hall
(The rain finally cleared during our last evening in the city.)

Too Many Questions

2010-06-08T11:06:00.004+02:00

Picking out five pictures from our trip to Poland was next to impossible! Steve and I spent an extremely full week exploring Krakow and the surrounding area.

Throughout the course of our trip, we toured museums and castles and we ate TONS of perogies. (Yum!) We were also shown around some small towns in "real" Poland via A. Rodriguez (no, NOT A-Rod!), our friend from UNC.

Lastly, we also paid our respects to and mourned over those who perished at Auschwitz. There, we learned a great deal about the Polish perspective on World War II.

Sifting through the 150 pictures from our trip, I found myself wondering how to narrow down our visit to just five snapshots. Should I include a picture from Auschwitz? What about the view from our rented apartment? Or pictures from Poles celebrating Easter? Did I even mention that we were there over Easter weekend?

Additionally, Poland is developing. Much of the country is still overrun with poverty. Should I focus on the contrast between the beauty and newness of downtown Krakow and the rundown outskirts of town? So many questions...

Without further ado, my answer is below. I decided to focus on KRAKOW:

View of Downtown Krakow from Outside the City Gate

Wawel Castle

(Gothic Castle built in the Center of Krakow sometime before the 14th century.)

Rundown Train Station Outside of Krakow

(Traveling by train in Poland is actually quite an adventure. Most stations either have one hard to read sign or no sign with the stations' names. Announcements are only made in Polish. And, the trains run pretty slowly. In order to exit at the correct station, one must know the exact time of arrival to said location. If the train is late, you are pretty much out of luck.)

Graffiti in the Old Jewish Quarter, Krakow

Kraków-Płaszów Camp Holocaust Memorial
(In October 1942, Jews were deported from Krakow ghetto to a concentration camp at this site. The Nazis destroyed this camp in 1945, after which, the remaining prisoners were sentenced to a death march to Auschwitz. Now there are a few monuments scattered around the grounds. It only took Steve and I about 45 minutes to walk here from downtown Krakow.)

P.S. Out of respect, I decided not to post any pictures from our visit to Auschwitz. I believe that Auschwitz deserves its own full post. However, I am not sure if I am ready to go there.

Parrots and Pictures

2010-06-07T13:16:00.002+02:00

Where was my camera when I needed it today?! While riding the tram home, a woman boarded with a parrot. Yes, A PARROT! And no, I was not hallucinating.

Luckily, it was a very well behaved parrot. It did not squawk or defecate during the ride. Yet, I was a bit sad that the parrot didn't talk. I wanted to know if it speaks German.

In turn, the parrot left me pondering a curiosity I developed, sparked by watching old seasons of "The West Wing": Is Sign Language a universal language? For example, if a taub German and deaf American want to communicate, are they able to do so with out learning a new language?

Realistically speaking, I guess I already already knew the answer (duh Jamie, ASL - American Sign Language), but fortunately for you, I looked it up anyway. Through Wikipedia, I learned that like oral languages, sign language followed its own path of development. Even British Sign Language and American Sign Language are "mutually unintelligible," even though the two countries share the same spoken word.

Anyway, I am going to take the next few days to post my top five favorite pictures from each place Steve and I have traveled over the past few months. If you're nice, I may even share some stories along the way.

First up, BERLIN (March 2010):

Park Inn Hotel, Alexanderplatz
(This is the amazing view from our 27th floor room during our stay for a Fulbright Conference. It was amazing!)

Knut
(As a baby, Knut made headline news as a baby polar bear born in captivity at the Zoologischer Garten Berlin. Now, Knut is all grown up.)

Salz und Pfeffer
(Make no mistake, the lids on these salt and pepper shakers, at a random vegetarian restaurant in Berlin, were not switched as a practical joke. On average, Germans love salt and detest spice.)

The Robot
(Dancing at a chili - yes, the meat dish - party. Enough said.)

Brandenburg Gate at Night
(Once commissioned as a sign of peace, this Gate continues to awe me.)

Spoiled

2010-05-12T11:02:00.005+02:00

Today, after glancing through my friend's photos on Facebook of his adventures in South America and ANTARCTICA (!!), I thought to myself "Man, I wish I was venturing around the world." Then, I felt stupid.

When I first moved to Munich, it seemed totally foreign. I learned about so many cultural differences between Germany and America. For example:

a) Breakfast is an event. Germans even have a verb solely for the act of eating it: frühstücken.
b) Dogs roam the street ohne leashes. They are well trained, never bark, and obiediently follow their owners everywhere.
c) In the rare case that a dog might be the cause of an accident (i.e. run in front of a car to cause a crash, etc.), dog owners are required to buy dog insurance.
d) Speaking of insurance, Germans have insurance for their insurance. Believe me! It's true.
d) Nudity is everywhere. In ads. On TV. You just become accustomed to it. NBD (no big deal).
e) In previous posts, I have already discussed some of the many differences between German and American cuisine, but I guess you can also consider both countries "mean and potatoes".
f) Everything is closed on Sunday (at least in Bavaria). EVERYTHING.
g) In regards to Sundays, Germany is a pretty religious country. Most of the public holidays are also religious holidays.
h) And, speaking of religion, Fußball is the only religion...oops, I mean sport in Germany.

Etc. etc.

However, now I feel pretty comfortable in Germany. I know my way around Munich. I don't get sweaty anymore (from nerves) when I try to order food from the baker. My German is somewhat understandable. I call our apartment "home".

And, maybe that's why the travel bug is biting again?

As a remedy, Steve and I are traveling to Vienna today. (Or maybe, it's just because his undergraduate adviser asked us to visit.) Either way, it's too bad Wien is still in the middle of German speaking Central Europe. Oh well! At least we can get a feel for the high opera/classical music, coffee, wine, schnitzel, and Sacher torte culture that Germany lacks.

In all reality, I am very excited to travel to Wien!

AND,
I know, and recognize, that I'm spoiled.

My only advice?
Come visit...
Then, you can be spoiled, too!

Young at Heart

2010-05-10T19:46:00.012+02:00

As I mentioned previously, my brother and his friend Chris came to Munich for a visit a couple of months ago (during their college spring break). Being surround by "buggers" five-and-a-half years younger, I was reminded what very-early-20-something-dom is like, while also being made to feel twice my age.

I know, you are probably thinking, "How could you possibly feel 54 (that's twice my age and almost my parents' age...and oh man, that's scary!) when you look like you're 18 (or 14, for that matter)?"

S. O. T.
Stage. Of. Life.

Anyway, what difference does it make whether or not I look young (besides the fact that when I actually am 54, I will be thankful that I still look 18)? Until then, can we please just accept that I am 27 and move on?

Zum Beispiel:

During our wintertime Boston visit, I was the only person carded for my choice-beverage during our Snow-Milder FAMILY (meaning parents included) dinner in the North End. Even my five-and-a-half-year-younger sibling was there and ordered a drink without being asked for ID. Then, on my March 2010 US Tour, I was carded when...wait for it...I WENT TO SEE AN R-RATED MOVIE at the Village with Ginia. Annnd, to top that off, two years ago I was presumed to be an eighth grader while leading a junior youth group bowling trip in good 'ole NC.

Where was I going with this? Oh yeah, my brother's trip...

See.

I am getting old,
AND forgetful,
AND I have arthritis in my hips.

Yikes!

To spare you another crazy tangent, I am going to skip the gory details of the internal dilemma sparked by my brother's visit about the Grenze between being youthful (i.e. drinking a Mass or three at the Hofbrauhaus, horsing around, and playing "drunk driving" - don't worry, that's my brother's nickname for a card game - until 3:00am)...

and being mature (providing daily wake-up calls so my younger guests wouldn't sleep until 1:00pm and miss everything the day/Germany has to offer and packing my brother's suitcase so his souvenirs wouldn't break)...

a.k.a. (most likely) my fear of getting older, which probably stems from the fact that my college graduation was almost exactly five years and two or three days ago AND there is already a Facebook group for my 10-year high school reunion (where does the time go??).

Wow.
Longest run-on sentence EVER.
And, I clearly already went on another (hopefully shorter, but probably longer) tangent.
Oh well.

From now on, in place of worrying about these things, I am going to focus on being young-at-heart.

And with that, here are the photos:

Sibling Love

High Tea at Dallmyr

That's More Like It...

Hofbrauhaus, Munich

Mike and Chris Goofing Off at the Residenz

Chris Contemplating a Bite of Jellied Meat
(He succeeded. We were very proud of him, but not so willing to take the risk ourselves.)

Crosswalk
(Salzburg, Austria)

My Brother... On Top of the World
(Just kidding! That's art in Salzburg.)

Drei Junge: Three Boys

Staff of Life

2010-05-04T12:24:00.000+02:00

Last week, because Steve was reduced to eating crap while performing his research in Karlsruhe, I decided to make him a super-special dinner for his homecoming on Friday. But sadly, I failed. Why? Because, I forgot to buy bread. This may not seem like a big deal to you, but as many of you know, my husband is a breadaholic. Additionally, the stores in Munich close at 8:00pm on weekdays and sometimes earlier on weekends. By the time dinner was on the table, there was no way to get to the store in time for our missing staff of life.

"We can buy bread tomorrow." I assured Steve, as we sat down to dinner.

However, as it turned out, Saturday was May Day or International Workers' Day or the real Labor Day; and, therefore, ALL of the stores were closed, including the hundreds of thousands of bakeries scattered around the city. And because Munich is a very religious city, all (well almost all) stores are closed on Sundays too.

Thus, there was a ginormous line at the grocery store yesterday. (Too bad I forgot my camera.) And, when I forgot to buy bread, guess who decided NOT to get back in the 45-minute line. Me!

With my husband almost reduced to tears (okay, okay...this is a bit of an exaggeration), I decided to make my first homemade loaf of bread (not including quick bread) EVER. Yikes! And...

Ta-da:

You may scoff and say, "Bread is not that hard to make." But please understand that with our extremely limited Munich kitchen (which only includes one big bowl, does not include a mixer of any kind - standing or hand-held, and does not include a bread pan) this was quite the feat. Twelve minutes of kneading is a lot of kneading. I think my arm muscles started pleading with me to stop moving around minute number four.

However, fresh out of the oven, the delicious bread smell was worth the pain. I felt like shouting, "I am the master!" But decided better of it at 12:00am to avoid upset neighbors.

How did it taste? Like bread! Not bad for my first time...and now I am ready for round two.

Boot Camp

2010-04-18T16:32:00.001+02:00

A few months ago, looking for part-time positions in Munich, I came across an ad for an individual looking to hire a cook for five people currently living in the Munich area. As someone who loves to shop for food, cook, and bake, I thought that this could be a cool opportunity for a few months, before entering the "real world" again. So, I responded to the ad and quickly learned that the position had, sadly, been filled.

Then, just three weeks ago, while in Berlin, I received and email from Jake* wondering if I was still interested in the position.

"Yes!" I responded, but also let Jake know that I was in Berlin and wouldn't be back in Munich for a couple of weeks. He asked me to let him know when I returned so we could schedule an interview.

Upon returning to Munich on a Wednesday night, I emailed Jake and let him know that I was back in town and probed him for more details about the position. The next morning, Jake called me at 10:30am to see if I was available for an interview that day, just an hour and a half after his call. He also said that he could not discuss details of the job over the phone or via email and that I would find out everything once I arrived for the interview.

Not yet showered and dressed, I said that I was happy to make the 45 minute trek across town and could be at his apartment at 12:00pm. Hurriedly, I rushed to shower and get dressed for the "casual" interview.

At this point in my story, this cook position and interview may seem a bit sketchy. So, I would like to note that throughout our correspondence, Jake was completely professional and always emailed me from a state.gov email address. I was never worried about my safety.

On my way to the interview, I fantasized about who I would be cooking for...consular officers, big-time government officials, maybe even Obama, himself?!

Once I arrived outside Jake's apartment complex, per his instructions, I called him. He informed me that he was still at work and I would be let in and then interviewed by his supervisor, Ross*.

Five minutes later, I see an extremely buff 20-something male bounding across the complex, swinging his arms like a young Arnold Swarzenegger. He approached the gate, introduced himself, and asked me to follow him up to the apartment. We briefly passed a friendly security guard who double checked that I was, indeed, the interviewee. Then, I ran to keep up with Ross as we sped to the apartment.

After being taken through a college man's dream pad filled with a pool table, guitar hero, and a flat screen TV bigger than me, I sat down with Ross for my interview.

I soon found out that I was interviewing to cook for five marines, here in Munich on one of their many annual rotations, sent to protect the US Consulate. "Cool?!" I though. "Could be interesting..."

Throughout my interview, Ross did not ask me a lot of questions. Instead he sternly examined my resume. His first concern was that I majored in Journalism in college, even though my resume does not show any experience in that field. Cooking in a house full of marines, he was worried that I could easily get them in trouble via the written word. In response, I expressed that I do not do anything with my degree, but also failed to mention that I have a blog. (Yet, I also did not mention, but was willing to sign a contract stating that I would not write anything about my experiences cooking at their house.)

Ross's second concern was that there was no cooking experience on my resume. Anticipating this, I explained to Ross that I love to cook, read food blogs everyday, etc. etc.

This resulted in me being forced to cook an impromptu meal for the five marines with whatever they had on stock in their kitchen. Basically, all I had to work with was canned food and a freezer full of meat. I felt like I was on a poor man's version of Top Chef.

Deciding what to make, I referred to part of my conversation during my earlier interview with Ross:

Ross: What is your cooking specialty?
Me: A dish or a type of food?
Ross: Both.
Me: Well, I can make a delicious bolognese sauce.
Ross: What is bolognese?
Me: Meat sauce.
Ross: Oh, okay. What else can you cook?
Me: Italian, Indian, Asian...
Ross: Can you make Mexican food?

With that and figuring the marines (probably all from the southern half of the United States - and yes I was right) would enjoy a taste of home, I decided to make chili and corn bread.

While cooking in their huge American-style kitchen, I learned that these 20-something marine boys do not recycle. At first this made me angry. And then, disappointed. "Typical Americans," I thought. "Shame on you!"

Then, I thought of the impact my employment could make on their lifestyle. I was ready to start a recycling program for these proud men (which is easy, or at least a priority in Germany).

Regarding my chili, coming from Texas, Ross approved of my meal and said that they would be in touch after I filled out a huge packet of papers for my background check, including a list of all the places I have lived in the past ten years (11 total), whether or not I have ever belonged to a communist organization (no), and every contact I have in the United States (I skipped this question). Whew.

After running by the marines' house several times to deliver background check document after background check document, I did not get the job.

Jake said that they could not hire me due to the fact that they are looking for a long term cook and me being in Munich only three and half more months was not beneficial to their needs. However, in truth, maybe I wasn't hired because my husband and I have openly protested the war in Iraq. Maybe it was because I was a journalism major and I have a blog (thank you for the great writing material, by the way!). Or maybe, it was my just my chili. I guess I will never know...

* Names have been changed to protect those involved in this story, specifically me.

Third Base

2010-04-15T16:10:00.008+02:00

Aaaaannnd, we're back! Welcome to procrastination central. I can't believe that April is already dwindling away, baseball season is in full swing, Kentuc k y Derby Day is fast approaching, and our last post was over one month ago. Yikes! Where did the time go?

As you can rightfully presume, Steve and I have been extremely busy the past couple of months. I spent the better part of February and March bouncing around the eastern half of the United States while Steve labored in the archives in Freiburg and conducted interesting interviews with former anti-nuclear activists in the Rhine region:

The "Ladies' Night" Group in Carrboro, North Carolina
(I also would have included a picture of one of Steve's research documents, but I am worried about German copy right laws.)

Just three days after we both returned to Munich, my brother and his good buddy, Chris, paid us a week-long visit during their college spring break:

Chris and My Brother, Michael
(Outside the Neue Rathaus in Munich, Germany)

Then, the day after they left, Steve and I took a two week trip to Berlin for two conferences, his research, and to visit friends:

Brandenburg Gate at Night
(Berlin, Germany)

Friends from UNC and Fulbright
(At a Kneipe in Berlin, Germany)

Immediately following, we ventured on a one week vacation to Krakow and Katowice for a little fun over the Easter holiday weekend:

St. Mary's Basilica
(Krakow, Poland)

"Where are all of the entertaining posts on all of our crazy adventures," you ask.

"Hopefully, coming..." I answer, with all of my memories thoughtfully churning through my mind, but also feeling slightly overwhelmed. Where to begin? In honor of the Red Sox, I will resume my blog posts by beginning with a baseball analogy.

After a long, gray Munich winter, my trip to the States was wonderful! Traveling to Miami, Louisville, Carrboro, Chicago, and New York, I got to catch up with so many of my amazing friends and family members. It was great being reconnected with so many fantastic communities. I was also blessed with gorgeous 70 degree sunny weather everywhere I passed through; and, in so many ways, my trip was absolutely rejuvenating.

As you can imagine, everyone had questions about what it is like living in Germany. Sitting over tea or a glass or two of wine while discussing my time abroad, the first question every asked was something along the lines of, "Do you have any friends in Munich?"

At first I was a little offended by this question. But, after giving it some thought, it seemed completely fair and the answer is more complex than I originally imagined.

In short, Steve and I do have a few friends in Munich. Are they German? Yes and no.

Steve is connected to the Rachel Carson Center through the LMU in Munich. Through this institute, we have met other Americans conducting doctoral research here in Munich (and their wonderful spouses). However, sadly, most of them have traveled back to the United States. (Thanks a lot, Andy and Whitney.) We have also met people through my language classes and other various outlets.

Yet, making German friends in Germany is extremely complicated. In general, at first meeting, Germans seem very cold and standoffish. They are generally scared and taken aback by "fake", bubbly American personalities. To Germans, a friend is someone you can trust and tend to know very well.

For example (here's where baseball...or dating...comes into play), getting to know my German tandem partner, Jana, was like starting a long-term relationship. "First base" or our first few "dates" consisted of meeting at a bar or restaurant for tea or a beer. As time went by and we got to know each other a little better, we moved to "second base," play dates at the park and walks around each of our neighborhoods. Months into our relationship, Jana invited me over to her house for a beer. This was a huge step!

Now, after almost half a year of going to bat, Jana and I invite each other over for dinner and sincerely enjoy spending time together. We are rounding third and I think we are becoming true friends.

Frühling in Freiburg?

2010-03-02T07:53:00.007+01:00

Sometime last October I contacted a number of archives here in Freiburg, where I am now doing research. I figured there would be a lot for me to do when I finally made it over here to the Southwest corner of Germany, because this region was the focal point of the movement that I am studying. So I got in touch with the archives early and tried to make sure I would be able to get access to the information I needed before I traveled across the Black Forest to get it.

This all seemed like a great idea at the time--particularly after I spent more than a month exchanging e-mails with one particularly crotchety archivist. After informing me that he was in possession of a folder of documents that might be quite useful for my research, he explained that, unfortunately, he could not allow me to study the materials in question. Out of the graciousness of his warm heart, he did suggest some other, unrelated documents that were currently available to the public.

Needless to say, I was at something of a loss. I asked if there was any sort of review process by which the archive might reconsider the papers' classified status. True to good German bureaucratic form, I received a pithy message several weeks later informing me to send a letter to the archive's director advising him of my plight and begging for his mercy. Sending an actual honest-to-goodness paper letter proved to be something of an ordeal without a printer, but finally I persevered. I printed the letter, found the proper postage, dropped it in the mail, and crossed my fingers.

Weeks passed and I heard nothing. I moved on to other things, and even (luckily) decided to postpone my trip to Freiburg from December to February... Finally, I was informed in an e-mail written in a particularly arcane form of German that I would also have to submit a reference letter from my Doctoral Advisor before the outcome of my request to see the documents could be determined. Apparently, getting a glimpse of these papers was akin to getting accepted to graduate school. I reasoned that the papers must be particularly important, but this new challenge was daunting.

I hastily sent an e-mail across the Atlantic. Thankfully, this latest desperate plea for help was answered almost immediately, and soon I had an e-mail copy of a reference letter stating that I was indeed a doctoral candidate, and that my advisor was indeed my advisor. At least now there was a chance that my application to view the highly-exclusive folder of particularly valuable documents might be reviewed.

To tell the truth, I was a little worried that the grayscale copy of the normally blinding Carolina blue UNC letterhead I had received via e-mail would not be sufficient. Letterhead seems second only to rubber stamps in terms of its weight in the minds of German bureaucrats. Nevertheless I pretended I didn't realize that my letterhead might be considered inferior and I forwarded on the reference. Once again, I was reduced to waiting patiently while the bureaucratic gears turned. I started to worry that the German postal service had decided not to deliver my mail to the return address I had printed on the initial letter, a frequent occurrence here because the delivery of mail is dependent on the letter carrier's assessment of the authenticity of the nameplates on doorways and mailboxes. Given that our "Namenschild" was then a measly piece of paper taped onto a stately wooden doorway, I figured I had reason to be concerned.

Thankfully my prayers were soon answered, and I was informed shortly thereafter (via e-mail...) that due to the unending graciousness of the archive's magnificent director, my request had been granted and I would be allowed to access the documents. Now the archivist demanded that I inform him of the precise date when I would be visiting Freiburg in order to make use of my newly granted privilege.

As I mentioned previously, this long delay in archival access, as well as other unrelated issues had significantly delayed my planned trip to Germany's "Green City." The date of my visit was anything but set in my mind... I replied to the archivist that I would inform him as soon as I knew when I could come, and hoped that this would not result in the revocation of special permission to see the folder of documents.

Finally, I planned out my trip to Freiburg. Several weeks before my departure, I informed the archivist of my precise plans, and asked if I could come to see the document the day after I arrived in Freiburg. No response.

Luckily, the preparations for my trip (and German television's Olympic Biathalon coverage) kept me busy enough in the ensuing weeks that I had relatively little time to ponder the implications of the archivist's radio silence.

Still, in my best attempt to come prepared for the worst German bureaucracy had to offer, I printed off a copy of the e-mail wherein I had been granted permission to see the documents and brought it with me to Freiburg. In harmony with the cantankerous nature of my primary contact there, the archive in question had a confusing and non-sensical schedule. Apparently, the reading room was open from 8-4 on weekdays but first-time users had to come between 10 and 12 on Monday or Wednesday or between 1 and 3 on Tuesday or Thursday. Fridays were out of the question. Since I had been planning to visit the archive the day after I arrived--a Tuesday--and I had yet to hear from the archivist, I reasoned that I would have to visit between 1 and 3. To make matters worse, it was Faschingsdienstag, and I wasn't sure if the archive would even be open...

Since I'd still heard nothing from the archivist, I decided to forego my Tuesday trip to the archive and visit later instead. I seemed to have little free time during the archive's limited registration hours. So I tempted fate and sent another e-mail asking if I could visit the following Monday, promptly at 10am.

The response to this missive was almost immediate. "Well," the archivist informed me, "the documents you wanted have been sitting around here since Tuesday, so I suppose they can sit around for another week." After some thought, I decided that the thinly veiled message--that the enormous folder of documents that I had requested was filling up all of the storage space in the reading room and that I was quite lazy and far from punctual--was far better than no response.

The new, improved speed of our correspondence emboldened me to inquire as to whether I could, in fact, arrive at 8am and get started with the documents immediately rather than waiting until 10. There was, of course, no response.

So finally, on a brilliant spring day, I headed over to the archive. I arrived at 8am and found the door locked. It was hard, but I forced myself to ring the bell and risk the wrath of the archivist by showing up at the regular opening time and not at the normal sign-up time for first time users. After all, my trip to Freiburg was coming to an end, and I had no idea how long I would be busy harvesting vital information from the treasure trove of documents that awaited me within the archive.

As it turned out, my erstwhile arch-rival was quite pleasant in person. Unfortunately, the documents I had so long been aspiring to view were all but worthless. I took a few notes, and by about 11 am I was back outside, enjoying springtime in the sunniest corner of Germany...

Author's note [Sat., March 6, 2010]: Unfortunately, spring doesn't seem to have lasted. This was the view out my kitchen window this morning:

Crocodiles are scary...and so is Miami.

2010-02-25T05:47:00.005+01:00

Arriving in South Beach around dinner time the Friday before Katie and Will's wedding, my parents and I decided to grab some food near our hotel. Luckily our hotel, the Royal Palm Resort, is located in the thick of things (and about a 30 second walk from the beach). We had heard good reviews about the restaurants on Ocean Drive and decided to head that way.

"Ahhh!" I screamed as a man holding a crocodile rushed toward me during our walking quest for food.

Watching the crocodile's snapping jaws chomp up and down towards my face, I managed to push my mom off the sidewalk and make her lose a shoe in the process of trying not to get eaten alive at such a young age.

As it turns out (thank goodness!), the crocodile was made of plastic and no one lost any limbs. Instead, our first Miami adventure ended in a big burst of laughter.

That aside, traveling from Munich to Miami was the craziest reverse culture shock I have ever experienced. Munich is clean, quiet, somewhat gray, and everything closes at 8:00pm. Reversely, from the loud boom-boom clubs to the colorful art deco architecture (and pretty much everything in between), Miami is quite the opposite of all that is Munich:

Ocean Drive, Take 1

Ocean Drive, Take 2

For a blogger, Miami provides so much material: rollerblading conventions for hundreds of middle-aged skaters, flocks of picture-taking tourists snapping shots of the sand, a topless sunbather massaging her lover on the beach in the midday heat, and lots old people acting silly. (I think I brought the average age our flight's passengers down by decades).

Upon my arrival to Miami, because of my culture shock, I had a little trouble handling the noise, the lights, and the under-dressed party-goers. To say the least, I was a bit overwhelmed. However, after a day in the 78 degree sun...in the middle of February...I began to learn the appeal of South Beach:

The Beach Outside of the Royal Palm Resort
(When I first walked out on the beach, I was with Katie and she said, "This is where I live." At that point, I was jealous.)

I. Love. Palm Trees.

After a beautiful wedding weekend, I was definitely not ready to leave the place where there's always a "party in the city where the heat is on." I would trade snow for sand any day. Yet, maybe somewhere just a little quieter...

Überraschung!

2010-02-17T00:49:00.004+01:00

Überraschung is one of my absolute favorite German words. It means surprise. It's fun to say in a slight sing-song tone. I also really like the word genau, which means exactly. Genaaauuuu! I remember obsessing over these words when we first moved to Germany. Hearing them always made me smile...and act like an immature child, mimickly repeating them over and over again.

I'm not really sure where this story is going. I guess I am trying to say that there are a lot of fun and crazy things to discover about this culture. Zum beispiel, no one keeps their dogs on leashes. Also, dogs here hardly ever bark. Oh! And most people have dog insurance incase their dogs cause an accident.

I hope you can come learn about some of these things yourself. However, before you do, the time has come to reveal the number one reason of the Top 10 Reasons to Visit Munich:

#1: Us!

At a Costume Birthday Party
(Winter 2009)

Just joking! (Kind of.)

In all reality, as you can see from the previous nine posts, there are many reasons to visit Munich. Yet, my favorite things about Munich may not necessarily be yours. The best way to determine your own "Top 10" list about any place is to observe and experience it for yourself. Please feel free to visit us. We would be happy to have you!

Bier und Brezeln

2010-02-15T14:53:00.003+01:00

#2 Bier und Brezeln

I wish I could hand you a fresh German pretzel through the screen of your computer. Mmmm...the salty and hard (but not too hard) crust and perfectly soft inside dough make a delicious combination. I like my pretzels slathered with a little butter (German style) or with a bit of nutella for a sweet treat:

A Homemade Brezel
(Andechs, Fall 2009)

Maybe you're thinking that you've had delicious pretzels before. I know there is a supply of them at Auntie Anne's, but trust me, there is NO COMPARISON.

And, what goes better with a good brezel than a cold brew?

In a city that has two several-week-long festivals dedicated solely to beer (Oktoberfest and Starkbierzeit) and a half liter is considered a "small beer," it is hard to find better local beer elsewhere. Even monks in the Munich area dedicate their time to perfecting the brewing craft at Andechs:

Steve with a Fresh-Brewed Andechs Beer
(Andechs, Fall 2009)

To me, the best (and most fun) way to experience German/Bavarian/Munich culture is with a beer in one hand and a pretzel in the other.

Bibbity Bobbity Boo

2010-02-14T21:26:00.005+01:00

Happy Valentine's Day! This morning, my Valentine made me an amazing Überraschungs breakfast consisting of lovely heart-shaped biscuits:

Valentine's Day Breakfast

Steve's Famous Biscuits...Valentine-Style

Yum!

Other than that, we are spending a lot of time together before we part ways for our respective month-long trips tomorrow. So hurriedly, here is reason number three of the Top 10 Reasons to Visit Munich.

#3: Castles

Is a caption really necessary here?

Many little girls fantasize about princess-hood, wearing big, beautiful gowns, living in a large palace and falling in love with prince charming...just like Cinderella. Tomboys read the Alanna books (which I highly recommend) and dream of learning magic during the Middle Ages while fighting tough battles in a man's world. Boys imagine themselves as heroes, riding their bikes up and down the block with plastic swords strapped tightly to their backs, yelling, "I have the power!" (Stories from Steve's mom inspired this last example.)

No matter how you played pretend growing-up, it is impossible to not be impressed by Germany's many castles. There are six official State castles in Munich alone, and hundreds of others advertised by the Bavarian Castle and Gardens Authority:

Schloss Nymphenburg

I could even commit a whole blog post to Neuschwanstein, the model for Disney's famous Sleeping Beauty Castle. Oh wait! I did: Castles and Cultural Differences. Really though, the castles in Germany are incredible, and at the same time, leave so much to the imagination. Come visit to relive your childhood dreams and discover the "Magic of Germany."

Wir Haben Hunger!

2010-02-13T16:30:00.007+01:00

After a lovely day of eating delicious homemade scones for breakfast (no baking disasters this time!), swimming in a 108 year old pool (an experience in and of itself), relaxing with some Banananweißen cocktails (sounds skeptical, but tastes super), and watching some ski-jumping Olympians fly off a steep slope on Whistler (via the Deutsch Olympic broadcast), I am now ready to announce number four of the Top 10 Reasons to Visit Munich:

#4: Käsespätzle

If you haven't gathered from many of my previous blog posts: I. Love. Food. Just ask my maid- of-honor, Beth. Once, we got in a silly tiff over a misunderstanding that started with me claiming her taste buds were bland. Needless to say, Beth now eats sushi...and likes it.

However, despite my love of adventurous eating, my all time favorite food happens to be a good 'ole comfort food: home-baked macaroni and cheese. YUM!

Steve won my heart when he made me the German equivalent of macaroni and cheese: käsespätzle. Käsespätzle is like a grown-up version of mac 'n cheese; yet, the base of homemade egg noodles is mixed with Emmentaler and Gruyere cheeses and then browned for a few minutes under a broiler. Sautéed onions are added on top for gooey, melty, perfection.

I may have to reconsider my favorite food:

Käsespätzle
(Sendlinger Augustiner Restaurant)

P.S. Click here for a käsespätzle recipe: http://allrecipes.com/Recipe/Kaese-Spaetzle/Detail.aspx. However, come visit us in Germany to experience the best you can get!

Alpine Adventures

2010-02-12T10:38:00.009+01:00

I can't believe that we are already counting down the fifth reason of the Top 10 Reasons to Visit Munich. Time is really flying, which means that my trip to the States is rapidly approaching. On Wednesday, I depart Munich for my second of two trips back to the US, signifying that half of our time in Munich is behind us and the beginning of Katie's time as a married woman will commence in one week (congratulations Katie and Will!). So, without further ado:

#5: the Alps

If you know me, you know that I LOVE the mountains. Hardcore camping and hiking are my favorite past times. Leading five-day leave-no-trace backpacking trips for OSRUI during my college summers, I used to hold competitions with my campers to see who could make it back to camp the stinkiest. Very lady-like, I know.

If I had to choose between a mountain or beach vacation, I would run for the hills. However, now living through this snowy Munich winter, as much as I like the mountains, I might consider migrating South for winter. Oops! I'm supposed to be convincing you to come visit.

In all seriousness, Munich's easy access to the Alps is fantastic. There is skiing and snowboarding in the Alps like none I have ever seen before. Even though as a little girl I only skied at Paoli Peaks...in Indiana, I am a good judge of decent skiing conditions. I swear! After college, I braved snowboarding in the mountains of Washington, Vermont, and North Carolina, which all pale in comparison to the Alps:

The Alps, Switzerland

And, if skiing and snow boarding aren't your thing, there's always extreme Alpine sledding:

Steve Sledding
(The Alps, Switzerland)

Plus, many ski resorts in the Alps have huts on top of the mountain where you can enjoy hot chocolate while sunbathing:

Kim Sunbathing on Top of the Mountain in Grindewald
(The Alps, Switzerland)

Me and the North Face of the Eiger
(The Alps, Switzerland)

The Alps are also fantastic for adventures in the spring, summer, and fall. There are thousands of hikes from Austria to France and in between. It is easy to take a day trip or wander much longer:

On a Hike in Fall
(Foothills of the Alps, Germany)

Hiking from hut to hut is a popular summer activity amongst Europeans and something that Steve and I are really looking forward to trying in the warmer summer months. Huts offer bed, breakfast, and beer, making it einfacher to pack and a fun way to meet people along your walk. This year, we are looking into hikes in Berchtesgaden National Park in Germany and on the Walkers' Haute Route in France and Switzerland. Let us know if you want to come along. Auf geht's!

Englischer Garten

2010-02-11T11:49:00.003+01:00

Bundled up in some serious layers (i.e. tights, wool socks, and boots on my feet, tights, long underwear, and jeans on my legs, and six layers on my mid-section), Steve and I braved the snow and bitter temperatures to cheer on FC Baye rn in the quarter-finals of the Deutscher Fussball Cup at Allianz Arena last night. Within the first few minutes of the game, Bayern München scored its first goal! After each home team goal, the announcer played the Amstel Light song over the loud speaker and yelled a routine with the crowd that went a little something like this (in German, of course):

Announcer: In the fourth minute of the game GOOOOAAAALLLLL for Bayern München by Thomas...

Fans: Müller

Announcer: Thomas

Fans: Müller

Announcer: Thomas

Fans: Müller

Announcer: And the score is now, FC Bayern

Fans: 1

Announcer: SpVgg Greuther Fürth

Fans: 0

Announcer: Danke. (Thank you.)

Fans: Bitte! (You're welcome.)

In the end (after a scary first half), FC Bayern won the game 6:2 to advance to the tournament semi-finals in Berlin. Steve and I survived the cold and celebrated with a warm mug of hot chai in our cozy living room:

Steve, Bundled Up and Ready to Root, Root, Root for FC Bayern

Walking to Allianz Arena in the Snow
(The stadium changes colors based on which "home" team is playing on a given day.)

Me at the Game

Speaking of sports and weather, now is time to announce the sixth reason to come visit Munich:

#6: Englischer Garten

I will never forget the cold and rain-soaked Fall day that Steve came home wishing he took the camera with him to work. "Why?" I asked. Afterall, Steve spent the day reading and researching in the library. After my inquiry, Steve revealed that on his way to the U-Bahn he saw a man biking through the streets with a surf board strapped to his back.

"Only in Munich," we agreed at the same time.

I remember the first time I came to Munich a couple of summers ago and Steve told me that there was a place where people surf in the city. I didn't believe him. My reaction was along the lines of, "Yeah right!" But, one sunny summer day, we biked to the Englischer Garten and watched the surfers try to stay afloat on a wave generated by a water pumping mechanism in the middle of the Eisbach Creek.

Apparently, surfing in the Creek is illegal, but without fail, you will find surfers practicing (and showing off) their skills in the Eisbach come rain, snow, or shine:

Surfers Braving the Eisbach Wave
(Englischer Garten, Fall 2009)

Besides surfer spectating, strolling along the gorgeous tree-lined paths, beer drinking in Munich's oldest beer garden, and sun bathing by the Kleinhesseloher See are some of my favorite activities offered by the Englischer Garten. Larger than London's Hyde Park and New York's Central Park, the glorious Englischer Garten can keep you occupied for hours:

Me and Jana, My Awesome Tandem Buddy
(Englischer Garten, Fall 2009)

Dusk
(Englischer Garten, Fall 2009)

die Feste

2010-02-10T12:15:00.001+01:00

Last night I asked Steve to list some of his favorite things about Munich. He immediately admitted his love for German bakeries. I could not agree more! However, I realized that I had forgotten to add bakeries to the list of my Top 10 Reasons to Visit Munich. At that moment, I was heartbroken. "How could I forget to add bakeries to my list?" I wondered sadly. But, then I realized that there are so many wonderful reasons to visit Munich. Although I am making a top ten countdown, everyone must visit Munich and determine what they love best about this big Bavarian village for themselves. With that said, below is Nummer sieben:

#7: Parties, Festivals, and Celebrations...Oh My!

From Oktoberfest to Fasching, it seems that no matter what time of year you choose to visit Munich, there is always something to celebrate. Big log cabin style booths fill the streets and the aroma of sugar-roasted almonds waft sweetly through the air. People roam the city with one hand occupied by a delicious drink of mulled wine, spiked tea, or fresh, local beer and everyone is happy.

Just as dreariness begins to wash over the city from the end of the two-week-long Oktoberfest-high, the Auer Dult opens. A spectacular celebration of Fall and a wonderful opportunity to finish holiday shopping early, the Auer Dult is an extremely scaled down version of Oktoberfest filled with wurst, beer, and rides in the huge parking lot of the Mariahilfplatz church:

Poster Advertising the 2009 Auer Dult

Swing Ride at the Auer Dult

Next come the Weinachtsmarkte. Vendors flood the streets and squares all over the city, setting up shop for a month, enticing you to buy cute trinkets and yummy treats. In the glum, gray of Munich's winter, Weinachtsmarkte keep everyone's spirits high:

Delicious Lebkuchen Stand at a Local Weinachtsmarkt

In January and February, as winter drags along, Fasching is crazily celebrated like the dance that is Mardi Gras in New Orleans. Costumed party-goers and parades file through town as people party like there is no tomorrow, because "tomorrow" they will start their fast for Lent.

In March is Starkbierzeit, the time for strong beer. I am told to expect three weeks of dance and lederhose, a similar atmosphere to Oktoberfest, but with stronger beer and less tourists. What can be better than that?!

Other Munich festivals and celebrations include: Frühlingsfest, Maidult, Stustaculum, Filmfest Munich, Tollwood, Christopher Street Day, Opernfestspiele, Tanzwerkstatt, and the Munich Marathon (to name a few).

If that does not convince you to visit Munich, then, I don't know what will. But! I will keep trying. Reason number six will be revealed tomorrow. Bis dann!

Viktualienmarkt

2010-02-09T12:51:00.005+01:00

If you haven't been tuning in, in honor of the start-ish of the New Year and my lack of blog posts in January, I am spending the next consecutive days counting down the Top 10 Reasons To Visit Munich:

#8: VIKTUALIENMARKT

Big "Chilli" Bundle, Viktualienmarkt

A foodie's paradise, Viktualienmarkt is a giant market place in the center of Munich. Artisan cheeses, local honey, and crates full of European wines flood the stalls:

Delicious Käse, Viktualienmarkt

Vino by the "Box," Viktualienmarkt

Vendors with steaming hot sausages and fresh squeezed juices try to entice you for a mid-day meal. It does not take much convincing:

Talia and Our Bio-Currywurst Lunch, Viktualienmarkt

Enjoying Some Local Brew on a Nice Fall Afternoon, Viktualienmarkt

Viktualienmarkt is one of my favorite places to roam aimlessly between the day's events, grab a beer with friends, or pick out produce for a nice dinner:

Knoblauch, Viktualienmarkt

Fruit Stalls, Viktualienmarkt

Guten appetit, or as Bubbe would say, "Ess gezunterhait!"

MVV

2010-02-08T12:15:00.003+01:00

#9: MÜNCHNER VERKEHRSMITTEL

Bilingual football players? Apparently so! Last night as we watched the German broadcast of the Super Bowl (WITHOUT COMMERCIALS...a terrible crime) two New England Patriot players joined the broadcast. It looked like they had to concentrate really hard to participate in the conversation; but seriously, I also strain every ounce of my attention toward the conversation when I attempt to speak German. Needless to say, Steve and I were really impressed! And, oh yeah...

GO SAINTS!

Now on to the original reason for this blog post:

If you haven't been tuning in, in honor of the start-ish of the New Year and my lack of blog posts in January, I am spending the next consecutive days counting down the Top 10 Reasons To Visit Munich.

Okay, I admit, number nine was a toss-up. I had trouble deciding between the MVV and Munich's museums. Munich does have some pretty interesting and amazing museums, including the Neue Pinakothek (featuring Van Gogh's Sunflowers) and the Bavarian National Museum (which contains armor dating back to the 1500's):

Van Gogh's Sunflowers

However, I love the MVV! Even though they issued me a 40 Euro ticket for forgetting my month subway pass (a long story for another day and a true sign of my fondness for the Munich Verkehrsmittel), I had to pick the MVV:

My 40 Euro Munich Verkehrsmittel Ticket for Forgetting My Ticket

Growing up in Louisville, Kentucky and living thereafter only in places that require a car, I now feel completely robbed of my right to safe, convenient, and reliable public transportation. I mean, the Louisville TARC is great if you live in the Highlands or downtown, but otherwise it doesn't really cut it.

Additionally, I have traveled to Atlanta, Boston, Chicago, and New York. I have experienced the MARTA, T, L, and New York's subway. Let me tell you, these systems pale in comparison to the MVV. The MVV consists of buses, trams, local trains, and comuter rails. These lines have schedules and they stick to them. 99.9 percent of the time, they are on time. Thanks to the MVV, it has been fun and easy to navigate Munich. I wish this transportation system could be used as a model across America...especially the amazingly colorful stations:

Marienplatz U-Bahn Station

A Call to Action

2010-02-07T23:57:00.001+01:00

As I sit here cozily on the couch waiting for the fangen an of the Super Bowl (at 12:30am CET), I cannot believe that we have already slid into the second month of 2010. January snuck by as I watched the snow fall (but not accumulate) from our third story apartment windows. Lazily, I managed not to write any new blog posts, but instead, drink lots of hot chocolate.

So, a big thank you to everyone for the reminders (and encouragement) that we need to continue updating our blog. I appreciate knowing that we have readership...even if that readership only consists of 10 people.

I am also thankful that Steve was on top of his game and created a blog post at the tail end of January. I did not want our blog to go one month without a publication. Ha! However, more importantly, when we returned to Munich from all of our travels, I was not sure how I was going to catch you up on a month and a half of our ramblings. Luckily for me, Steve covered all of the highlights.

For this post, in honor of the New Year (and to do a little something different), I made a top ten list. Most people end the year with top 10 lists: Top 10 Songs of the Year, Top 10 Worst Dressed Celebrities of the Year, The Top 10 Most Memorable Sports Moments of the Year, and so on. Individuals like to reminisce.

To change things up a bit, my top ten list is a call to action. It is the encouragement of adding another small New Year's resolution to your list. My top ten list is the Top 10 Reasons to Visit Munich. I will reveal one reason each day for the next ten days. And now, for number ten:

Drumroll, please...

#10: BAVARIAN CULTURE

Over 20 Varieties of Local and European Potatoes

Formerly, the "Free State of Bavaria," Barvaria is home to Munich and Nurnberg, located in the southern part of Germany, and borders three countries (Switzerland, Austria, and the Czech Republic). From lederhose to compound words, red-roofed villages to bright-yellow sunflower fields, pork galore and mounds of potatoes, Bavarian culture is the culprit of most German stereotypes. Yet, Bavarian culture is full of surprises and to experience Germany without experiencing Bavaria would be a crime.

Check-in tomorrow for lucky #9 (and no, it is not Magic Hat)!

A New Year in Needham, Zurich, and Munich

2010-01-31T18:48:00.007+01:00

Wow, it seems like the New Year just started and already, the first twelfth of 2010 has flown by.

Its been a crazy month. We started the year in Boston (or more specifically Needham), where we conducted a highly scientific experiment intended to determine whether or not cable television executives had planned their presentation of Pearl Harbor on December 31st such that the attack sequence would coincide with the ball drop and the beginning of 2010... Sadly they did not.

From there, we headed to Switzerland, where we sledded down a mountain and attempted to cook a pizza using only a stove-top grill-pan and the top of a Raclette stove (yes, this one definitely belongs in the crazy kitchen incidents file--unfortunately, there are once again no pictures... But maybe a description of the event to come).

Finally, we returned to Munich, where we managed to score free tickets to "see" the Bavarian State Opera's presentation of Madama Butterfly from the standing room in the back of the third level of the far right of the Bavarian National Theater (the tickets were actually rejected by some other starving students before we got our hands on them...).

In the meantime, I am planning a research trip to the thrilling town of Karlsruhe, future home of the Karlsruhe Insitute of Technology, an institution intended to rival its trans-Atlantic competitor MIT. Jamie is directing an English language book club, working on her plans for next fall, preparing to travel to fabulous Miami, Florida, meeting with her language partners, teaching English, and babysitting. One of us is clearly busy...

Due to my lack of a schedule, I've had plenty of time to slam my head against the wall and feel like my dissertation isn't much closer to happening now than it was eight months ago when I defended my prospectus. Luckily, I've been enjoying the winter weather (its nice to get back to it, and also amazing how much colder everything feels after three winters in Chapel Hill--that is, until you hear from a friend in Russia who is excited that the temperature has recently jumped ten degrees...to -28.).

Anyway, aside from the fact that it has snowed pretty much everyday since we returned to Germany (although there are only a few inches of accumulation and no sign that more snow will ever stick here), the thing I like most about getting back to winter is having real seasons again--now that the big Christmas excitement is over, and there isn't Gluehwein flowing on every street corner, winter has really settled in. Its time to eat soups, drink hot beverages, and understand why people in Switzerland eat nothing but cheese and chocolate half of the year. At the same time, as winter wears on, its time to start looking forward to spring, which for the first time in three years, sounds wonderful, because it doesn't just mean that its time to brace myself for the heat wave of horrific proportions called known as summer in North Carolina...

Anyway, to put all of this rambling (and not working on my dissertation) to an end, I wanted to note one other important (and extremely sad) event of the new year. Howard Zinn, author of A People's History of the United States and really, in my opinion at least, the embodiment of everything good that historians can be and do, passed away at the age of 87 on Wednesday.

Zinn's work is inspirational to me because he wrote history in a way that challenges the status-quo, was read by the general public, and eventually was even used as a text book in all kinds of high school and college courses--not the sort of thing that many professional historians can put on their cv's. Much more importantly, though, I think Zinn used his status as a Professor to do so much in the community--another thing that most professors seem to shy away from. His credentials were at least a small part of the reason that people took notice when he spoke out against three different wars and participated in all kinds of strikes, protests, and movements. And Zinn used his research and his academic training to inform his activism. He also pushed the limits of what historians are supposed to do and how they are supposed to write, and inspired just about everyone I remember working with on political causes in Massachusetts. He was a historian who made a difference. He will definitely be sorely missed.

Ein Guten Rutsch!

2009-12-23T21:32:00.002+01:00

'Tis the season for holiday shopping at the Weihnacht markets in Munich (and all over Germany, for that matter):

Munich Christmas Market

Greetings from the Munich Weinachtmarkt!

Which means one must drink Gluhwein to "ease into the holiday spirit" or more necessarily, to deal with the push and shove of the crowds that have infiltrated Munich since the markets opened a month ago:

Maxx and Steve Sharing a Gluhwein Moment

However, this past Sunday Steve and I decided to forgo the Gluhwein and avoid the crowds all together. It had snowed the previous evening and the temperature was in the bone chilling single digits:

Snow on the Isar

Snow by Our Apartment

So, we headed to the Pinakothek Der Moderne, Munich's modern art museum. The Museum houses some amazing pieces by Max Beckmann, Pablo Picasso, Andy Warhol, Salvador Dali, and much more:

Observing a New Piece at the Modern Pinakothek
(Unfortunately, I forgot to write down the name of this piece and its artist.)

Yet, as in all modern art museums I visit, some of the works left me questioning, "Is this art?"

Pink Flamingo

(Two strings connected from floor to ceiling.)

Schattenraum

(A big box with a black painting mounted on the wall behind it.)

Untitled

(Florescent lights forming a pattern across a room.)

Unknown
(Everyday objects floating on the wall. Unfortunately, I forgot to write down the name of this piece, too.)

In other news, tomorrow we fly to Boston to celebrate the holidays with our family. Have a joyous holiday season and an excellent slide into the new year. Ein guten Rutsch!

Second Largest Menorah in the World (At Least It Was In 2006)
(Outside the Jewish Museum in Munich)

Our Menorahs on Day Number Seven

Steve's Awesome Lego Advent Calendar

Doctor Office Frustrations

2009-12-21T13:31:00.000+01:00

Ever since Steve and I started dating, we go to his family's house in Boston for Christmas. It is an awesome time with lots of great company, delicious foods, and fun traditions. The only challenge is that usually four or five cats join us for the holiday festivities. If you know me, then you know that I am (very unfortunately) extremely allergic to animals and of all animals, I am most allergic to cats.

To prep for our visit, I always take loads of preventative allergy and asthma medicines. However, this year that proved to be much more difficult than I had ever imagined:

A few weeks ago I made an appointment and went to see Dr. März, an English-speaking German doctor recommened to me on Toytown.

I asked her to prescribe me the preventative asthma medicine that my doctor in the US had prescribed me the past four years. Instead, she gave me what she said was the German equivalent, a Budesonide inhaler, and five minutes later I was filling my prescription at the pharmacy.

After a few days of taking this medicine, I started waking up wheezing twice every night. Also, my throat became inflamed, I had a cough, and my mouth was swollen every morning. At first I it didn't register why this was happening, so I kept taking the inhalant. Then I realized that the only thing I had changed in my routine was the Budesonide.

Finally, I looked up its side effects online (http://www.medicinen...er/article.htm, http://www.netdoctor...100002197.html, http://www.nlm.nih.g...s/a699056.html, http://www.nlm.nih.g...s/a699056.html):

As it turns out Budesonide can cause wheezing, a sore throat (in 1 in every 10 people that take it), difficulty falling or staying asleep, along with many other problems. And guess what, I was being hit with just about all of them.

The next day, I went back to see Dr. März and tell her that I was having trouble with the new inhaler. As I checked-in, one of her nurses asked me to go down to the pharmacy and get the German names of the medicines I normally take. Once I returned, the nurse forgot I was there and I ended up waiting two hours to see the doctor. When I went to ask when I could expect to see the doctor, the nurse was horribly, and I mean horribly, rude. Finally, I got called into Dr. März's office to discuss the issues.

As if things couldn't get worse, Dr. März denied that Budesonide has any side effects (all of which are listed on hundreds of websites including the three above).

She blamed my symptoms on diseases and allergy inducing things floating around Munich, did not even look at my throat, or really listen to anything I said (for that matter). She also looked at the German names of the medicines I usually take (provided by the pharmacy) and said that I did not need those medicines. Instead, she tried to prescribe me yet another asthma medication, which I frustratingly declined for fear of similar results.

So now I'm back to square one and looking for a new doctor in Germany...

Luckily, because of the German health care system, I can visit any number of doctors in a three month window by paying only 10 Euros at my first visit and then none thereafter. Thanks universal health care!

All Aboard the Munich-Nuremburg Express, or our trip on the fastest slow train in Germany

2009-12-19T15:21:00.012+01:00

On a cold Saturday morning, Jamie and I lay silently in our bed, listening for a sound we were all too certain to hear: the ringing of our alarm clock. We were ready for a routine ride on the regional train to Nuremburg--the Franconian city known far and wide as the Christmas Market Capital of the Federal Republic. We were excited for the market, but we sure didn't expect the journey there to take on Van Allsburgian dimensions. How wrong we were; in the end, as is so often the case, getting there was the adventure.

Our Goal: The Nuremberg Christmas Market

We'd noticed that the rail connection from Munich to Nuremburg, a short one-hour-and-one-minute journey on the high speed/high price/high strung Inter-City-Express, tended to run just over two hours on the less expensive regional trains. In comparison to the ICE trains, which are everything that European rail service is cracked up to be, the regional trains are something like Germany's version of a Greyhound bus.

The tension between the German Railways's red regional fleet and its white inter-city service was evident on a trip we took recently to Wuerzburg. We had rushed to the station on another recent morning, bought our ticket and climbed on board the red regional express train. We stowed our bags and took off our coats. We settled into our seats and prepared for a relaxing journey. We observed the passengers around us and tried to guess where they were from and where they were going. Finally it hit us, we'd been sitting in the train for over twenty minutes, and we were still waiting on track twenty-one in Munich. Soon, the harried voice of our conductor boomed out of the normally scratchy loudspeaker. "Because of the actions of a passenger on an Inter-City train," he announced, "our time of departure is delayed indefinitely." The words "Inter-City train" were pronounced in a particularly perturbed tone. Clearly, the fact that the hare was delaying the tortoise was not too pleasing to our conductor. It wasn't only the conductor's tone of voice that left of us scratching our heads in the wake of this pronouncement. It had been a more specific statement than many of the announcements made by German Railways personnel, but it was far from precise. We were left to speculate at to just what the passenger onboard the fast train had done to upset the crew of our train until we lurched out of the station fifteen minutes later. Finally after our train returned to a complete stop in the midst of the snowy Bavarian countryside, we were treated to some answers. "Because of the actions of a passenger on an Inter-City train who has pulled the emergency break," the conductor bellowed into a microphone somewhere in the belly of our train, "we have left Munich with a delay of 38 minutes." He paused. "And we have just been informed that we will be waiting here until an ICE train passes us." Another pause. "We will also be waiting at our next two stops so that additional high speed trains can pass us. In spite of this, we wish you a pleasant journey. Thank you for traveling with German Rail." As you can guess by now, we didn't get to Wuerzburg on time... But the rest of that day is a completely different story. The regional express ride to Nuremburg was quite different.

In contrast to the great selection of seats and nearly limitless space for luggage that we found on board the train to Wuerzburg, we knew the Nuremburg express was going to be packed before we even climbed onboard. We arrived half an hour early, but the platform was already swarming with a veritable horde of soon-to-be Christmas shoppers. Clearly, seats on board the train to Nuremberg were going to be in as high demand as mulled wine at a German Christmas Market. We were prepared for the big squish--and visions of standing all the way to Franconia were dancing in our heads.

The train pulled into the station, and the people got out. And got out. And got out. And then, just when we thought it was our turn to get in, some more people got out. It was almost like watching a clown car unload, only it was ten-train-cars long. Finally, the people were all out, and we raced to get on board. Luckily for us, our determination to board the train as quickly as possible in the most remote car possible was rewarded with seats around a little table in the middle of the car; we almost fooled ourselves into thinking we could sit back and relax. As the minutes until our impending departure ticked by, passengers just kept boarding the train. We gritted our teeth and settled in for a long ride on the slow train to Nuremberg.

As we pulled out of the station, we were greeted by the remarkably cheery voice of our conductor. It would be an exaggeration to say that he entertained us with stories and jokes, but in contrast to the vast majority of German Rail's workforce, he shared information that could be considered less than necessary, and even translated everything he said in German into understandable English.

We soon learned the reason that the conductor's spirits were so buoyant despite the fact that his train was weighed down with enough passengers to raise questions about Germany's railway firecode (or lack thereof). "Welcome on board the Munich-Nuremberg Express," he crowed, "the fastest regional train in Germany." Wow. Apparently, we were in for a real treat. Instead of spending two-plus hours in a train doomed to stop at "every station passed underway," as we had on the way to Wuerzburg, the Munich-Nuremberg Express was traveling on a remarkably straight track fenced off from the bucolic Bavarian landscape and normally restricted to the high-speed Inter-City trains. Villages, farmsteads, and forests whizzed by our window. The stations we stopped at seemed to be in the middle of nowhere--the exact opposite of the typical city-center central stations so common in Germany.

Nevertheless, at one of the desolate park and ride stops we deigned to halt at, we spied a troop of Germans in Santa hats waiting to board the train. Far from aiding us in imagining ourselves aboard the Polar Express on a magical Christmastime journey, this was a worrisome sight. Not only was the train was already overcrowded, Germans in matching outfits on public transit generally mean trouble. Like soccer fans or bachelor's party participants, who wear matching t-shirts, fill the train with drinking songs, and generally take advantage of Germany's lack of an open container law, the Santas shuffled into the aisle and immediately opened up their backpacks to reveal a dazzling array of all things alcoholic. From Sprite mixed with vodka, to beer and schnapps, to tins of fruit floating in liquor, they had it all. Clearly these Santas were unwilling to wait til we got to Nuremberg to start fortifying themselves against the cold with mulled wine.

The Santas occupy the aisle...

...and break out the booze.

Before the Santa squad had had enough time to bother anyone but an old woman who was incensed by the fact that they were talking to one another across the car, however, we saw the outskirts of Nuremberg whizzing past us out the window.

The Munich-Nuremberg Express, the crown jewel of German Rail's regional system, had delivered its cargo of Christmas shoppers to Nuremberg in record time. We realized that we could look forward to thirty bonus minutes of perusing the market. The Christmas spirit overtook us and we headed straight for the mulled wine.

Yoga Makes the World Go 'Round

2009-12-19T11:18:00.000+01:00

Because yoga is the one constant that keeps me in balance, I decidely could not leave for Germany without my yoga mat. Despite the airline's luggage size and weight limits, I made my mat a priority; so, I left out some bulky sweaters and crammed that thing into my suitcase.

Moving here, I wasn't too hopeful that I'd find a great yoga studio. I planned on practicing a bit on my own and suffering through what I imaged to be harsh German-style yoga classes.

Then, about two months ago as I was aimlessly roaming through Munich on my way to meet Steve for lunch, I happened upon a Jivamukti yoga studio. I was in shock and very excited! (Jivamukti was the type of yoga I used to practice with Allison at CYCO.) Of all places, I did NOT expect Germany to have many yoga studios or any Jivamukti instructors or classes for that matter. After doing some research about the studio, I came to learn that there are actually three Jivamukti specific studios in the Munich area.

However, at the time I was too intimidated to go to a class. (All of the classes are in German.) But finally, about two months ago (after a 3-4 month yoga class sabbatical), I finally took a chance and went to a class at the studio closest to our apartment. And...

It was fantastic!!

I only understood about half of the instructions, mainly "einatmen, ausatmen," but the class was easy to follow. It was very similar to our class in North Carolina.

Lying in shavasana, I wanted to laugh and cry. I was so happy to have such a familiarity in such a far away place, but it also made me miss my Carrboro niche. However, I had always heard and it was nice to confirm that yoga really is a universal language...even in Germany.

Turkey Day(s)

2009-12-09T15:08:00.001+01:00

As Steve and I walked to the train at 4:30pm on November 26, I felt nothing but mopey and very sorry for myself. "It doesn't feel like Thanksgiving," I lamented.

I had just attended four hours of German class and Steve had met me at the DB Station after a long day of seminars and research. There was no sleeping-in. No Macy's Day Parade. No smell of turkey roasting in our oven. It was cold and wet. And, we were traipsing 45 minutes outside of the city to spend Thanksgiving dinner with Steve's professor and colleagues. Not only were we missing out on all of our own traditions, but I was also being forced to dress up and be on my best behavior.

"Joy," I thought. "So much to be thankful for..."

However, after spending some time with Steve on the train, I began to cheer up; and, when we got to Professor Christof Mauch's house, there was definitely a lot for which to be thankful!

Immediately, we were handed glasses of wine and deliciously smelling bowls of pumpkin soup (both filled to the brim). As it turns out, Christof's wife, Wendy, is American. Together, they cooked a mean Thanksgiving dinner with all of the trimmings and then some. During dinner, all 20 guests took turns swapping stories. And interestingly, we got to meet Professor Michael Brenner, the only Jewish Studies professor in Munich - a German Jew, born after the War.

Because we had no idea what Thanksgiving, and then Christof, had in store for us, Steve and I also decided to host our own Thanksgiving meal on the Saturday after the real holiday. We invited Franklin (a friend from Chapel Hill who is also doing research in Germany, but not in Munich), Kurt and Edeltraud, Anna and Thomas (Kurt and Edeltraud's daughter and son-in-law), and our friends Andy and Whitney.

In Germany, let alone our unstocked kitchen, this proved to be a bigger challenge than imagined. Steve and I wandered to butcher shops all over the city in order to find a whole turkey. Germans sell frozen geese at the supermarkets, but no turkeys!! We finally found a fresh, cage free, and super-expensive turkey at a butcher shop near my school.

We also had to invest in some plates and silverware from Weisser Rabe, a famous thrift shop in Munich. Steve's mom mailed us canned-cranberries and aluminum pie plates for the occasion, which arrived just in time, the afternoon before our big shabang! I made a pumpkin pie from a real pumpkin, since canned pumpkin doesn't exist in Deutschland. Franklin brought devine pumpkin butter mailed from his family. And, Andy and Whitney brought over some Stove Top to complete the meal:

Turkey Day in Our New Place
(From the left: Kurt, Franklin, Anna, Thomas, Andy, Whitney, Steve, and Edeltraud)

Thankfully, both of our turkey days ended up being a lecker success.

Berlin, punkt.

2009-11-30T21:15:00.001+01:00

With Berlin, I don't know where to start. From the beginning I found Berlin a bit overwhelming, which wasn't necessarily a bad thing. But now I know why people refer to Munich as a village. It is much smaller (in area) than Berlin and, at least to me, much easier to navigate. Munich also has a smallish city-center and it is very easy to get around zu Fuß. Whereas, in Berlin there is a lot more space; and, unless you want to spend the entire day walking from point A to point B, you should take public transportation everywhere. Yet, because of Berlin's crazy history and diverse neighborhoods, there is so much to do and see in the city that it is impossible to conquer it in a week, let alone years.

The night Steve and I arrived, we chose to take it easy after our six hour train trek across the country. We stayed with Steve's old roommate, Susann, in Neukölln (a gentrifying area in the outskirts of the city...but really, aren't they all?):

Graffiti in Neukölln
(Graffiti is EVERYWHERE in Germany and especially abundant in Berlin.)

Because we already told you about our experiences celebrating the Mauerfall Anniversary, I will skip that.

The rest of the week, Steve spent most of his time in archives and I (when not sick in bed) spent most of my time in museums. It may sound boring, but museums in Berlin are fantastic! If you ever find yourself in Berlin, please note that on Thursday evenings, entrance to most State art museums is frei. Below are some pictures from the Pe rgamon Museum, by far my favorite museum in Berlin:

Pergamon Altar
(This structure was orginally built in the 2nd century BC in ancient Greece.)

Me and My New Best Friend, Mr. Ionic Column
(Can you believe this is just the top part of a column? It's huge!)

Ishtar Gate
(This was the eighth gate to the inner city of Babylon, constructed in approximately 575 BC by King Nebuchadnezzar II.)

I also ventured to Checkpoint Charlie, the most famous checkpoint between East and West Berlin during the Cold War. Today, there isn't much there except for a sign declaring that you are either entering or leaving the American Sector and the official booth where real soldiers once stood guard and now an "American Soldier" stands waiting to rip you off. Once you get your picture taken with the soldier, he then declares in a thick German accent, "That will be ein Euro, bitte." Even more expensive is the Haus am Check po int Charlie, but on the other hand, much more worth it than a picture with a fake soldier:

You Are Now Leaving the American Sector
(Beware!)

Checkpoint Charlie
(Do you think this picture was worth it?)

Also, Steve took me to Treptower Park, the Soviet War Memorial designed and erected in East Berlin to show that it was, in fact, the Russians who single-handedly defeated the Nazis. The Park is surrounded by several large and looming statues glorifying the Russian defense force. One in particular depicts a Russian soldier smashing the Swastika with his boot, while saving a child with his non-sword-occupied arm:

Treptower Park
(Imposing Statue #1)

Treptower Park
(Imposing Statue #2...and there are plenty more where this comes from.)

Other than that, Steve and I ate a lot of amazingly delicious food and hung out with friends:

Susann and Steve
(On Steve's birthday at the 12 Apostles with a surprise birthday cake.)

Steve and Jacob
(Eating burgers at "The Bird")

The Infamous Rissani Teller
(And, of course, me and Steve)

We plan on visiting Berlin again in March. I hope to have some better stories for you then, instead of just show-and-tell. Bis bald!

Himbeer Heinie

2009-11-22T11:26:00.002+01:00

I know I promised you more about Berlin, which I still plan on posting shortly; but first, I must tell you about our night at the Augustiner Bräustuben with Himbeer Heinie.

As you have probably gathered from our previous postings, Augustiner is mine and Steve's favorite beer company here in Munich. Paulaner joined forces with Star Brand Imports and the yucky tasting Hacker-Pschorr and Franziskaner became partners with the evil empire of the Spaten-Löwenbrau-Gruppe. But, Augustiner is no sell out. The brand is still authentic and pure. It remains by and for the people. (And as we found out, you can buy a half liter of Augustiner beer at the Bräustuben for 2.55 Euros, which is a really great deal):

Half Liters of Hell und Dunkel
(Hell is light beer - in flavor, not calories. Dunkel is dark beer.)

So naturally, when a new friend from my language school invited us to check out Augustiner's official Bräustuben last night, we could not refuse.

At first the loud and crazy, traditional Bavarian beer hall was a bit overwhelming. It was difficult to find seats amongst the crowd. (At traditional Bavarian beer halls, there are long tables with big wooden benches. You are expected to sit with strangers and make new friends over shared beers and brezen.) However, once we found a table, the friendly and fun atmosphere warmed us immediately:

Augustiner Bräustuben
(This is one of many rooms, including a roof deck!)

Hanging Out at the Beer Hall
(Wanda, Cris, Me, and Steve)

We were squished on a bench with a soccer club from a tiny village somewhere outside of a tiny town (both of which I had never heard). The players had thick Bavarian accents that only Steve could really understand. And they were also slurring miserably due to being five hours and about 10 beers deep.

Yet, despite all of this, we managed to communicate and the men were very excited to find out that we were from America and Brazil. They wanted to know everything!

After talking for awhile, we finally got to introductions. Roland, who was sitting next to Steve and liked to be called "Roll," wanted us to meet his friend at the other end of the table. He told us to yell his friend's nickname in order to get his attention. (Apparently, all club members took their nicknames VERY seriously.)

But, his friend's nickname was Himbeer Heinie.

Well at that point, I almost fell out of my chair laughing and I could not manage yelling "Himbeer Heinie" across the restaurant. Himbeer auf Deutsch is raspberry. And, we all know what Americans use "Heinie" to reference:

Himbeer Heinie and Soccer Club Friends
(Himbeer Heinie is the guy on the left. You can see Roll's arm and nose on the leftside of the picture, but unfortunately, he is not completely in the frame.)

Apparently, Heinie does not have the same (or a) meaning in German; it is just a name. But to the four of us, Roll's friend is now and forever "Raspberry Bottom".

der Residenz

2009-11-17T23:46:00.001+01:00

Okay... So I would like to post more about our Reise nach Berlin, because despite being sick for more than half of our trip (due to standing in 40 degree rainy weather for six hours at the Mauer Fall celebration), I actually did get to explore a fair amount of the city. However, after a grueling day of difficult Deutsch learning, I do not have the energy to recount our adventures. Instead, I am going to introduce you to our tiny, new Residenz!

However, first I must explain why our new Wohnung is called "der Residenz". In Munich's city center, der Residenz is the former royal palace of Bavarian monarchs. It housed dukes and kings through 1918 and is now the largest downtown palace in Germany, which is actually saying a lot. In order to aspire to such magnificance, I deemed our place der Residenz.

Below is a photo tour; yet, feel free to come visit it (or us) in person anytime:

Entry Hall and Study

(All rooms connect to the entry hall.)

Washroom
(Unfortunately for me but not for the environment, Germans do not believe in dryers.)

La Cocina
(Complete with big fridge, freezer, and real oven!)

Schlafzimmer
(Since this picture was taken, we have replaced the creepy picture above the bed with white space.)

Living Area
(Which is also in the same room as our sleeping area.)

This completes the photo tour of der Residenz at this time. We plan to make updates to our new space periodically. But for further information and to see future improvements, you must visit in person. Thank you for your virtual interest in der Residenz.

Mr. Walesa, knock down that domino!

2009-11-10T23:47:00.010+01:00

Walking down a sunny Munich street last week, I mentioned to Jamie that I would be thrilled if it was 55 degrees and clear on my birthday. Little did I know then just how thrilled I would have been.

Instead of being thrilled, I was chilled. And wet. And well... bored. And I don't think I was the only one. Most of the foreign dignitaries who bothered to show up for the 20th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall on Monday night gave flat speeches that failed to resonate with the sparse crowd of tourists who braved the miserable weather for a glimpse of such luminaries as Russian President Dimitri Medvedev, French President Nicolas Sarkozy and British Prime Minister Gordon Brown on the jumbotrons set-up around Pariser Platz.

In fact, in what Kaiser Jacob referred to as "King of the world" move, the latest winner of the Nobel Peace Prize couldn't even bring himself to visit the site of one of the twentieth century's most famous peaceful revolutions. While all of the other allies were represented by heads of state or heads of government, Barack Obama sent his secretary (of state) on his behalf. Of course, President Obama couldn't bring himself to stay away from the festivities completely; instead of attending in person, he sent a video-gram of himself sitting in a nicely upholstered chair in a cozy room somewhere in the West Wing. The rest of the world's leaders had to content themselves with the warmth of the crowd on a raw and rainy Berlin night.

What was billed as a "Festival of Freedom" turned into more of a celebration of how little anyone even cares about the freedoms gained by Eastern Europeans after the fall of the iron curtain. In fact, only Dr. Angela Merkel, who grew up in East German Mecklenburg and rose through the ranks of the CDU after German reunification was able to make a believable claim to having been moved by the events of November 9, 1989. The contrast between Angie's speech and the lackluster contributions of Brown, Clinton, Sarko, and Medvedev hinted at what was really missing from this Festival: the words and thoughts of people who made the wall fall and whose lives changed forever in November 1989.

Sure, Thomas Gottschalk conducted interviews with two East German dissidents, and Lech Walesa was recruited to knock over a small branch of the chain of 7 foot tall dominoes that stretched from the Spree to Potsdamer Platz, but not even Gorbi himself was allowed to give a speech at the Brandenburg Gate.

Instead, the allies got a chance to pat themselves on the back one last time, and Bon Jovi made a musical contribution to the utter emptiness of the "Festival of Freedom."

Oh, and did I mention that it was cold and wet?

November 9.

2009-11-09T11:08:00.013+01:00

November 9 is an extremely important date throughout history:

1620 - Pilgrims aboard the Mayflower spot land on Cape Cod, Massachusetts
1906 - Theodore Roosevelt is the first sitting president of the US to take a trip out of the country
1921 - Albert Einstein is awarded the Nobel Prize in Physics
1938 - Kristallnacht begins, the first large-scale act of anti-Jewish violence in Germany
1989 - Fall of the Berlin Wall

November 9 is also the birth date of Benjamin Banneker, Carl Sagan, Tom Fogerty, Sisqo, and my husband.

Yes, today is my husband's birthday. We already celebrated this morning with presents and a nice little breakfast. Later, Susann (our friend that we're staying with in Berlin) and I are meeting Steve for lunch at his favorite Berlin pizza spot and surprising him with a homemade German-style marble (Marmor) cake.

And lastly, tonight we are going to the Brandenburg Gate to celebrate Steve's birthday and, along with millions, the 20th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall:

Bösebrücke
(The first border crossing site to open on November 9, 1989.)

Berliner Mauer

(A small part of the Berlin Wall that still remains standing at Bösebrücke)

Mauer is the buzz word this week and Berlin has been gearing up for this event for months: http://www.mauerfall09.de/. Angela Merkel (Chancellor of Germany), Nicolas Sarkozy (President of France), Dmitry Medvedev (President of Russia), Gordon Brown (Prime Minister of the United Kingdom), and Hillary Clinton (Secretary of State) will all be in attendance.

Bon Jovi is going to sing "We Weren't Born to Follow."

And to top it off, 1000 life-size "dominos" are being knocked over along a small part of the path where the Berlin Wall once stood - from Potsdamer Plotz to the Brandenburg Gate:

"Dominos"
(Set-up on Saturday, November 7)

Steve und Ich
(Checking out the scene at Potsdamer Platz)

We will report back to you after tonight. In the meantime, you should wish Steve a happy birthday. ;)

Or, on a more somber note, you can read this article from BBC that highlights walls and barriers around the world which are still standing or have been erected since 1989: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/in_depth/world/2009/walls_around_the_world/default.stm. Glad to see that we're making so much progress...

Castles and Cultural Differences

2009-11-05T21:26:00.012+01:00

Thankfully, (besides the freakishly-hellish week of daily sleet storms) the Fall here has been glorious! The leaves are still gorgeous shades of red and yellow and most days, the sun has been coming out to play:

Englischer Garten
(Take One)

Englischer Garten
(Take Two)

To take advantage of Fall and do something on Halloween (because Germans don't really celebrate the holiday), a big group of us from my sprachschule and Steve's environmental studies center ventured to Neuschwanstein this past weekend. Neuschwanstein is the castle Walt Disney used to design the outside of the Magic Kingdom:

Neuschwanstein
(Need I say more?)

Built by Konig Ludwig (King of Bavaria) in the late 1800's, this castle did not serve a purpose at the time of its construction. Because of its extravaganze and because it was the third of three extremely expensive castles commissioned by King Ludwig, his kingdom became bankrupt and therefore very upset. In the middle Neuschwanstein's construction, King Ludwig was declared mentally ill (without a proper medical examination) and hence, not fit to rule his kingdom. One day later, King Ludwig and his psychologist were found dead in a lake under mysterious circumstances.

Six weeks after Konig Ludwig's death, Neuschwanstein (still unfinished - to this day) was opened as a tourist attraction.

Our trip to Neuschwanstein ended up being quite the challenge: six Americans, two Italians, and two Spaniards - all with different travel and life philosophies.

Seven of the Ten of Us
(Back Row: Steve, James, Jamie, Alessia, Marta, Angelo; Front Row: Guillermo)

The Americans of our group (including me) were very worried about time. (Shocking!) See, at Neuschwanstein you buy your tickets at the bottom of a big foothill. When you buy your tickets you are given a tour time. To get from the ticket office to Neuschwanstein, you have to ride a bus or horse-and-buggy or walk up the mountain:

Guillermo and Horse-and-Buggy
(We decided to be hard core instead of lazy.)

The time was 12:25pm and our castle tour commenced at 1:40pm. Just enough time to grab a bratwurst and hike uphill 40 minutes to the castle entrance. However, at 12:50pm the Spaniards and Italians were just wandering over to the brat-stand as we Americans were downing the last of our french fries.

"We'll meet you at the top," we said.

Lo and behold! Just as we started admiring the view over the edge of the mountain just outside the castle gates, Guillermo and then Marta, our Spanish buddies, came bounding up behind us, "Hi guys!" And, I soon found out that the Spanish mentality is: hurry-up and stop...and then hurry up some more. (Which, you will understand very shortly.)

About 10 minutes later and approximately 30 seconds before the start of our tour, Angelo and Alessia joined us. Demonstrating the Italian mentality(ies): all is good/everything will workout how it's supposed to/slow and steady wins the race. Or in the wise words of Angelo, "if you miss one train, you can always take the next one."

However, Angelo and Guillermo decided that 30 seconds was enough time to smoke before going inside for the tour....AND, they almost missed the tour. We had to ask the tour guide to grab them from outside. They're lucky that we had a nice tour guide!

So, besides being a beautiful day, going to Neuschwanstein was a bit stressful and the experience provided a little culture schock. It was definitely a learning experience in more than the historical sense; yet, I can only hope that I absorb some of each of the cultural philosophies of my new friends.

The Challah Question

2009-10-23T16:22:00.008+02:00

Germany bakery shelves are stock-full of A MILLION amazing baked goods. However, my favorite happens to be Mohnkuchen: a deliciously moist cake/bread loaf treat with layers of poppyseed filling and glazed with a gooey icing on top. And today, finally, for the first time since I've been back in Germany, I found (and devoured) some:

Mohnkuchen: the Deliciously Glazed Outside

Mohnkucken: the Moist and Gooey Inside

Well, not just some. I actually inhaled about a quarter of a loaf. See, in most bakeries you have to buy either one half of or a whole loaf of Mohnkucken at a time. Unfortunately (and fortunately - heehee), it doesn't come by the slice. And after perusing bakery after bakery, day in and day out for my favorite German delicacy, I decided to split half a loaf with Steve for lunch/dessert (after our cheese covered pretzels)...oopsies:

Me, Stuffing My Face with Mohnkuchen
(Posing just for the camera, of course!)

Feelings a little sick to my stomach, but very happy, I walked (most of the few miles) home lamenting over whether or not I will be able to find Mohnkuchen on say, a Wednesday (or any other day that I want it, for that matter) and contemplating Steve's new query:

See, today we learned that Mohnkuchen is likely baked only on Fridays - potentially for German Catholics who are supposed to (commanded to?) eat fish and sweets at the end of each week. Similarly, after visiting several bakeries today in search of a decent lunch (and Mohnkuchen!), Steve and I noticed raisin Challah (Rosinenzopf) at every shoppe. This led us to question the similarity between Jews eating Challah on Shabbat and Catholics eating sweet braided breads on Fridays. We wondered if this had anything to do with the development of Reform Judaism in Germany and liberal-minded German Jews wanting to incorporate aspects of German customs into the Religion.

Funny enough, today when I got back to the Werner's house there was a cake cooling on the counter. The Werner family is not Catholic, but they are German... So, if you know the answer to our question, please enlighten us! For now, I must go stuff myself with more cake. Happy Friday and Shabbat Shalom, wünsch ich Euch alle!

Brunch and Bowling

2009-10-20T16:29:00.010+02:00

On work days, most Germans devote at least 30 minutes to their Tee (tea) and Semmeln (rolls). If not the most important meal of the day, breakfast is probably the meal Germans seem to take the most seriously. Consisting of delicious rolls, flaky chocolate filled croissants, melted-cheese coved pretzels, lean meats, strong tasting cheeses, creamy nutella and sweet Marmalade (jam), with a Deutsche breakfast you just can't go wrong:

Frühstück at the Werner's
(German breakfasts make rising early totally worth it!)

However, when it comes to Sunday brunch in Bayern, scrambled eggs and pancakes are extremely hard to come by. Therefore, this past weekend when Andy and Whitney invited us to a local restaurant with a real "American-Style" brunch menu, how could we resist? Yet, the experience was not quite what we expected...

"Seven? And you all want to sit together? Without a reservation?" asked the waitress, auf Deutsch, at Cafe Westend. "Impossible!" she exclaimed. "Come back in two hours."

Two hours?! What were we supposed to do with our grumbling stomachs for two hours at 11:00am on a Sunday? Besides, in two hours our scrumptous American brunch would then be a German-style lunch.

Pleading with the prickly waitress, Evelyn was able to sway her to seat us...in the basement of the affiliated (and closed on Sundays) kegeln alley. Trudging down a couple of flights of stairs into the dark basement, the waitress led us through a locked door.

"You okay with this?" she asked.

"Yes," our hungry stomachs answered as we entered the vacant kegeln hall.

But to our surprise, the end result (a private, amuzing brunch and impromtu bowling party) turned out deliciously and way better than expected:

Brunch Bunch
(We ate in this quiet, empty room at this akwardly positioned private table and then tested our skills on the kegeln alley behind us.)

Andy Attempting His Hand at Kegeln
(It's actually a lot more difficult (and different than bowling) than it looks...and the pins are attached to strings!)

Entrance to the Infamous Cafe Westend
(Pronounced with a "vuh" sound, Cafe Westend now comes highly recommened by the Brunch Bunch.)

die Dusche

2009-10-17T16:41:00.013+02:00

After living in Germany for the past month, I now understand why Germans (and possibly all Europeans) only shower every three to four days. Showering in Germany is both challenging and lukewarm:

For starters, many showers have hand-held spouts. Saving water is the concept of this model. Instead of leaving the water running while lathering and shampooing, showerers are supposed to turn off the "Wasser" during this time and only use it to wet and rinse. However, the challenge of this method is trying not to spray water all over the bathroom, which is much easier said than done:

Additionally, many bathrooms have special water heaters for their sinks and tubs. Ten minutes before shower time, it is up to the showerer to remember to turn on the water heater. Then, once the hot water is out, it's out...and the showerer is out of luck:

I do believe that saving water is great. And, I am usually very green. But currently I miss my relaxing, every-other-day routine.

Accidental Hausfrau, ja oder nein?

2009-10-16T18:46:00.007+02:00

When Andy suggested that his wife (and my new let's-hang-out-everyday-after-language-school buddy), Whitney and I join the Accidental Hausfrau Verein (club), I thought he was joking. I even laughed out loud.

However, the next day searching for things to do on Toytown.com, a web resource for English speaking expats in Germany, I discoved an "Accidental Hausfrau" meet-up group. So...Andy wasn't joking?

According to Jennifer, a wonderful Seattleite in my Tandem sprachkurs, no, Andy was not joking.

A New York journalist who ended up in the Freistaat after she married a Bavarian artist started the group in 2007. Career-minded, but without a career-visa, this woman was looking for ways to fill her time in München (outside of the kitchen). Thus, the Accidental Hausfrau Verein began.

"Perfect!" I thought. A bunch of educated 20-30-somethings (stuck?) in Munich without any work opportunities.

Going out on a limb last Friday, I decided to join Jennifer for the weekly Hausfrau meet-up: lunch at Cafe Puck.

However after being sandwiched on a bench for five hours, discussing whether or not one of the older group members was going to be kidnapped in Morocco this weekend, I determined that, perhaps, I am not quite ready to be an Accidental Hausfrau...or at least not the inactive restaurant loitering kind.

Apple-(Sauce)-Pee-Kuchen and other disasters

2009-10-13T22:45:00.000+02:00

To begin with, I was worried about the springform pan--I'd never baked a pie in a springform pan before (has anyone?) so the thought of its high sides and bumpy bottom was a little daunting. I asked Edeltraud if there was any chance her frying pans were safe to bake in, but she didn't look too thrilled about that prospect, so I resigned myself to constructing the tallest apple pie in Munich.

By the end of the day, I had pretty much forgetten about the springform pan (aside from the fact that Edeltraud wanted to open it and let the hot pie ooze out onto her clean new tablecloth...) No, by the time we finally sat down to eat way too much else had gone wrong to be worried about the stupid springform pan.

I had picked out the apples several days before. Surprisingly a major hassle in a city littered with Bio-Märkte and greengrocers. Apparently most Muncheners are far more interested in good eating apples than apple-pie baking apples. Go figure. Still, a fancy-looking fruit-shop down the street from the Rachel Carson Center in hoity-toity Schwabing seemed to have just the thing: a crate of beautiful German Boskoop apples. The sign specifcally mentioned that they were sour.

For some reason I decided that vegetable shortening, unlike apples, would not be difficult to find in Germany. Oh, how wrong I was. A visit to the local Rewe, which probably has the best selection of any normal supermarket in Munich, was unsuccesful, but I wasn't worried. For some reason I was convinced that somewhere else in Munich there would be German-made shortening. There wasn't.

Increasingly worried that Edeltraud and Kurt would return home from their shopping trip to a pie-less kitchen, I dragged Jamie to supermarket after supermarket. Finally, we squeezed through the throng of tourists and shoppers enjoying downtown Munich, and found some Crisco on the American specialties shelf in the gourmet section of a pricey department store... Right next to the marshmallows and the fake maple syrup. After all, what else would it be worth importing all the way from the US?

Crisco in hand, we threaded our way back through the crowds to the U-Bahn, and returned home. We headed up to the kitchen, put on a Johnny Cash CD and started peeling apples. They were nice, sturdy apples, plenty sour, so I figured we would need a bunch of sugar. Soon I realized my first mistake (besides not having a pie plate and presuming that Germans eat shortening on a regular basis)--despite having been to almost every store in Munich, I'd forgotten to buy a lemon to keep the apples from browning as we cut them. Jamie volunteered to run back to Rewe and pick up the missing Zitrone as well some ice cream to enjoy with the pie. By the time she was back, I had the crust ready and most of the apples sliced.

We finished slicing together, and I had to move the beautiful, sour slices into a new bowl since there were so many. I got out the sugar and poured on about half a cup. I added some cinnamon and flour and gave the apples a big stir. It smelled like apple pie. I was happy.

Then I sampled an apple. It tasted terrible.

My mind raced.

Too much cinnamon?

The apples were really sour and just needed more sugar?

Nope, I had mistaken the salt for the sugar and heaped on enough to turn the Starnberger Lake into a minor Ocean. We tried to rinse off the apples, but it was far too late. They were salty to the core (well, we'd cored them already, but they were salty through and through).

I started to lose it. As Jamie knows far too well, things are not pretty when I screw up a recipe. It wasn't pretty.

Luckily for me, Jamie is far more relaxed and resourceful than I. She got me to run downstairs and start a new apple search in Sendling. Of course before we even made it to the first store, Kurt and Edeltraud appeared in the Alramstraße, shopping bags in hand. They had successfully found winter coats, and they were ready for some apple pie (or as the Germans pronounce it, "pee").

Jamie volunteered to head them off while I scoured the first store for apples. Nothing.

About five stores later, we finally found some more slightly less atractive sour Boskoop apples. We returned home and peeled and sliced them in record time. Jamie tested the sugar to make sure it was sugar, Edeltraud explained to me that even the best housewives make mistakes, and we put the pie together.

We baked it for an hour, and soon you could smell apples and cinnamon all over the apartment. I should have been happy, but I was nervous--what else could Murphy have up his sleeve?

We pulled the pie out of the oven and sat down to eat. I had no idea how to cut a pie in a springform pan, so Edeltraud smartly suggested that we take it off the table so that it could be butchered over on the counter and all we would see was our individual pieces of pie--not the oozing pie carcass trapped inside the springform pan.

Then I found out what my last mistake was: Boskoop apples are terrible baking apples. My pie was an apple-sauce-pee-Kuchen. Instead of tender apples slices, we had a springform pan full of apple-y mush. At least it still tasted good. I didn't have the heart to tell Kurt and Edletraud that this pie was a fake. The real thing probably would have been too much like a big round Apple Strudle, anyway, so why worry.

It wasn't until that evening that we realized how envious the hostess of Smittenkitchen.com would have been if we had beautiful picutres of our masterpiece to illustrate this post. I think a shot of all the salted-apples in the trash would have looked especially appetizing. Luckily Jamie didn't try to take one at the time. I probably would have thrown the crust out the window...

Trinken wir noch eins?

2009-10-11T09:56:00.002+02:00

It was late Friday night at Sendlinger Augustiner (The proud home of Schnitzel-Saturdays, Schweinebraten-Mondays, and Burger-Tuesdays) when Jamie, Kim, and I learned the Bavarian answer to the question "Trinken wir noch eins?" (Sould we drink one more beer?).

In a state where a "Halbes" (half beer) is half a liter, and bars don't tend to keep smaller glasses on hand, deciding whether the evening is done or not can be a significant question. (Although it is possible to literally "grab one for the road"...) Of course, given the importance of beer for the local economy (when the federal government decided to implement a sales tax hike, Bavarian parliamentarians argued that beer, as a staple food, should be exempted... unfortunately, their argument didn't carry too much water in Berlin, where you'd be lucky to find a beer as large as half-a-liter at most bars), one would expect Bavarians to have a compelling answer to the "to drink or not to drink" question.

And, as it turns out, they do:

The answer is called a "Schnitt" (or according to Kurt, a "Kinderbier"), and its a pretty ingenious response. Not only can the bartender serve up a Schnitt in a half liter glass, ordering a Schnitt allows the patron to get a full glass of beer and to sit back for a minute (or ten), and enjoy the last beer of the night. The bartender pours a Schnitt by allowing most of the big half-liter glass to fill up with head, and delivers it to your table while its still foaming. After ten minutes or so, the head dies down and right before your eyes, somewhere between a half and two-thirds of the glass fills up with beer. So, next time you're in Bavaria and you're forced to decide whether or not to drink one more beer, you could always just order a Schnitt.

(Being) Jewish in Germany

2009-10-08T22:12:00.001+02:00

As I walk down the street from our current residence to the subway, I could be pretty much anywhere in Europe. Well actually, I have only ever visited a few European cities outside of Germany: Salzburg, Madrid, Toledo, Aranjuez, and the Rheinfall in Switzerland. But, I imagine other big European cities to be just like München. Exploring our new Stadt, I pass hundreds of cafes, shops, churches, apartment buildings, and old buildings... lots of old buildings:

Old Town Hall, Munich
(Built in 1474)

"New" Town Hall, Munich
(Built between 1867-1908)

However, every once in a while I pass something that looks eerily familiar:

Odeonsplatz, Munich
(It was at Odeonsplatz on November 9, 1923, that Hitler attempted to bring down the Weimar Republic. Hitler's attempt was unsuccessful and he was sentenced to five years in jail. However, he only ended up serving nine months and it was in that time that he wrote Mein Kampf.)

Wait! I stop in my tracks. Where have I seen this [insert: building, square, gate, statue, street name] before? Oh yeah, that's right, in one of my Sunday school or college classes about the Holocaust.

Hmmm...I think to myself...

How am I reacting to this place or thing? How am I supposed to react to it? Should I be angry, sad, scared, upset? All of the above? Or, none of the above?

When Steve and I first traveled to Germany two summers ago, it was nothing like I imagined. Before our trip, the only pictures I had seen of Germany were from Holocaust books and films. On the plane I imagined landing in a country painted in black and white. Literally.

However, driving to Sulzheim (a tiny village and home of Steve's high school host family) from the Frankfurt airport was a wake-up call. In fact, Germany was not black and white, but painted green and blue and yellow and orange and all of the colors of the rainbow. On our drive we saw skyscrapers and fast trains, gorgeous fields and small villages. It was clear, Germany was recovering from its past; but had I?

No. At least, I didn't think so...

Thus, I spent visits the next two summers trekking from Holocaust memorials to Jewish museums, from old-burned down synagogue sites to newly renovated synagogue replicas, and from mass graveyards to new Jewish cemeteries trying to come to terms with everything. Steve even pointed out gold plaques thrust between the sidewalk cement in Freiburg marking where Jews had once lived and sadly stating what happened to each during the War.

Through my journey I came to recognize that Germany is still working to recreate its image as well as physically rebuild itself from war destruction. Additionally, Germany has not yet come to terms with its history, but is working on a way to move past the past without forgetting it.

Now, after my previous ramblings, as I walk by these places reminiscent of a darker time, I stop and I remember. Sometimes I dwell too. But, I am making an effort to also move past the past. Living here this year, it is my goal to stop dwelling (most of the time) and start enjoying our new adventure here in the present.

Last week, Steve and I attended Yom Kippur services in Munich. For me, walking into a synagogue here and being part of the community was the perfect transition from dwelling, to remembering and moving forward.

New Beginnings...

2009-10-02T12:14:00.007+02:00

Well, I meant to introduce myself and this blog in the first post, but typically, I just jumped right in. For many reasons (well, two in particular), initially skipping an introduction seems fitting and okay.

First and foremost, you, the person reading this blog (if you are anyone besides my mother), are my father... or my (sometimes) co-author and husband... or my family member... or my friend... or at least my acquaintance. Because why would anyone want to follow the ramblings of two indecisive 20-somethings in Germany? Thus, an introduction seems unnessary.

But why "Wandern Gehen"?

Which brings me to the second and final reason initially skipping an introduction just makes sense:

As mentioned previously, both Steve and I are somewhat indecisive 20-somethings. What I mean, is that we're indecisive about our path in life (or at least I am). Even though I am one month away from 27, I still don't know what I want to be when I grow-up. I am lost.

Comparitively, jumbled in my thoughts, it took me a little while to comprise an introduction here, for our blog.

Caught off guard, gearing up for the hike of life (and a hike at the foothills of the Alps), this picture perfectly depicts my current state:

"Wandern gehen," loosly translated, means to go rambling. It is my hope that through some miracle, our year-long ramblings will lead me (and Steve) to some self-discovery. Guide us down the "right" path (or the left). And, help us discover the ramblings that will make us happiest at the end of the day and throughout our lives.

Auf gehts zur Wiesn: Let's Go to the Oktoberfest!

2009-09-30T11:38:00.039+02:00

In all actuality, the Wiesn (how locals refer to the Oktoberfest) is a mix between the State Fair and a big Halloween party...with lots of beer:

Ein Maß - A One Liter Beer
(Bigger than Steve's Head!)

For the event, each brewer creates a big "tent" or semi-permanent structure for the occasion. The various tents display each brands' beer drinkers' personalities:

Augustiner - the Traditionalist Tent

(The only tent at the Wiesn that still serves beer out of real wooden kegs.)

Hacker - the Bavarian Heaven Tent

(Because everyone in this tent is on cloud nine...)

Hofbräu Haus - Just Like the Bar
(All the Americans flock here.)

Ochsenbraterei - All Kinds of Oxen
(Seriously...served anyway you are willing to eat it.)

And just like the State Fair, the Wiesn has lots of rides! Heed, some words of wisdom...if you ever come to this fun affair, be sure to go on the rides before you start drinking:

The Swings!
(Waving, Edeltraud and I gear up for a bit of fun.)

At the Wiesn (somewhat like Halloween), people wear fun hats and dress in "costume" (or traditional lederhosen and dirndl). Bavarians living in small villages, mostly in the Alps, still wear lederhosen and dirndl on a daily basis:

Traditional Lederhosen
(Worn by an Oktoberfest attendee.)

Non-Traditional Dirndl
(Worn by a vendor in the Augustiner tent.)

Historically the first Oktoberfest was held as a celebration of the Bavarian Crown Prince Ludwig's marriage to Princess Therese von Sachsen-Hildburghausen. (I would like to think because of this, but probably just as a capitalist scheme) you can buy gingerbread hearts decorated with sugary icing, displaying various declarations of love, in a Bavarian dialect:

One of the Many Herz (Heart) Stands
(Please advise: These cookie hearts are meant to be worn around the neck
and/or displayed on the wall, not eaten.)

Steve Gives Me a (His?) Heart!
(As it says, "Just because [he] likes me.")

All in all, between the food and drink, the people, and the ideal Bavarian experience, Oktoberfest in definitely worth the trip. Gestern, haben wir viel Spaß gemacht (Yesterday, we had a lot of fun!):

Edeltraud in the Augustiner Tent
(Eating delicious roast chicken and drinking a traditional brew.)

Edeltraud, Me and Kurt

The Bavaria - The Goddess of the Land of Bavaria
(This statue is located at the border of the Theresienwiese
and overlooks the Oktoberfest.)

Nice To Meet You. Where Is Your Gun?

2009-09-27T21:36:00.014+02:00

Last night at dinner, Edeltraud and I were trading phrases in our new languages: I told her what I'd learned in German, and she answered with freshly learned English.

After a few glasses of wine, it was time to haul out some textbooks. "Begegnungen" (my German book) was innocuous enough, but Lesson Two in "Interaktive Sprachreise: Englisch" was: Tombstone.

Apparently the first (scratch that, the second) thing you need to know about life in the USA is that there are a lot of outlaws in Arizona. Or as the Germans would say, "Gesetzlose".

So, the next time you meet a stranger while wandering in the desert or visiting the Grand Canyon or in America in general, be sure to mind your manners and say, "Nice to meet you. Where is your gun?" (as Edeltraud's book recommends).

Here are a pair of good German outlaws, Edeltraud and Kurt: