Germany | the weird and the wonderful

I had my first ever houseguests this month!

Of course, I helped my mom host guests throughout my childhood, and several friends visited while I was in college. But this was different: my dear friends Bryn and Angela flew ACROSS THE ATLANTIC to come spend a week with me.

We rode on countless trains, hiked in the alps, enjoyed world-class art museums. In the evenings we played bananagrams, danced, and talked endlessly about faith and post-college life and books and ideas. (And we introduced Bryn to Lizzy Bennet Diaries.)

It was pure joy to have them.

Something I really enjoyed was hearing their impressions of Germany. I've lived here so long that I'm accustomed to most quirks of the place and don't notice them anymore.

As Bryn and Angela commented on things that they found amusing, confusing, and wonderful about Germany, I kept a running list on my phone. Here are some of them.

Water fountains are not a thing in Germany. I don’t know why this is, but I have never seen a water fountain here. It used to be that most tap water in public bathrooms was not potable, so if you wanted water you had to buy it. Now you can usually fill up at a bathroom sink.

But to get into that bathroom you probably had to pay. A 50 cent charge is typical to use a public bathroom, which makes complete sense to me. I’d much rather pay to use a clean bathroom than be grossed out for free. But it's also a bummer when you desperately need to use a bathroom and don't have any change on you.

Speaking of things you have to pay for, you can't order free tap water at restaurants. Beer is often literally cheaper than water.

Stoplights here turn yellow before they turn green.

Roads are very narrow. That said, sidewalks are very wide. Bryn commented that the sidewalks are so wide she would have thought they were driving lanes. This is a perfect example of how much Germans value walking, biking, or taking public transit above driving. 

You can’t pay at the pump at German gas stations. I have no idea why.

There are no billboards along the roads. (Well done, Germany!) 

The color palate is brighter. It's common to see buildings painted in bright, bold colors.

Mailmen ride bikes, not vans. And they contribute to the bright color palate: they have yellow bikes, jackets, and mailbags.

There are lots and lots of flower shops, and they are usually not connected to grocery stores like they are in the States.

Mistletoe grows in huge clumps on trees. 

When German families move, they take their kitchens with them. Cupboards, sink, counters, dishwasher, fridge and freezer - it all comes out of the old place and into the new. So it's not uncommon that when you look at a German home for rent or sale, the kitchen area will be a gutted room with connections to plumbing but no actual kitchen. 

German homes do not have built-in closets. People keep their clothing in dressers and wardrobes. My parents explained to us that this is because closets are taxed like rooms. So homes are more affordable if they do not include closets. Go figure.

Woodpiles are standard. A lot of German homes still have wood-burning stoves (of course, they also have modern heating and cooking, just to be clear), and they have a lot of wood stacked up to feed those stoves.

Of course, this is only a handful of the things that stick out to a newcomer in Germany. If you're curious about more, or if you're familiar with Germany and want a good laugh, check out this Buzzfeed article. (Heads up for some vulgar language.)

Things I Learned {Last} Month | March 2018

This post is going up somewhat late, due to the craziness of travel, Holy Week, and having my college roommates fly in for a visit (so much joy). But I really enjoy the practice of posting small things I learn each month, and better late than never, right? Plus, writing this post counts toward one day of the Write 100 Challenge, which is a definite plus. So here are a few things I learned in March.

1. That little flat spot on the volume button on Apple earbuds is a play/pause button.

Maybe everyone else in the world knew this, but I didn't. Tsh Oxenrider mentioned this on an episode of The Simple Show and blew my mind.

2. Conferences are for networking, not sightseeing.

I was in Berlin for a conference of Fulbright grantees in Europe at the end of March. There wasn't much time for sightseeing, but there was abundant time to talk to all sorts of fascinating people. One of many interesting conversations was with an astrophysicist who is studying black holes. After I asked a few questions, she looked at me and said, "You haven't run away yet. Do you have a science background?" Nope. But I love drawing people out about things they are passionate about.

3. My 23-year-old-self does things that my 18-year-old-self would never have dreamed of.

Dancing until midnight, for example, when I could have left the party at 9 and gone to bed instead.

4. I miss being around a large group of peers who are curious about everything. 

Being at the Fulbright conference was a breath of fresh air in part because it was like diving back into college: I got to spend four days hanging out with curious people learning cool stuff about the world. I'm now pondering how to foster an atmosphere of curiosity and discussion in my day-to-day encounters with peers and coworkers.

5. The bookstore Shakespeare & Company is also a lodging place for transient artists. 

Called "Tumbleweeds," the people who pass a few nights at the bookstore are required to read a book a day, help mind the shop for a few hours each day, and write a one-page autobiography. I'm kinda sorta wondering how I can get myself admitted to the club. Who wouldn't want to spend a few days couch surfing in the most famous bookstore in Paris?

key words: mosey, patina, art, gelato, pasta

Catholic Holidays and "The Godfather"

One of the perks of teaching in Munich is the abundance of holidays. Munich is in Bavaria, which is a Catholic state, which means that church holidays often lead to school holidays. Last week I had the whole week off for Fasching (a.k.a. Shrove Tuesday, Carnival, and Mardi Gras). Happily enough, Dad had a trial in Italy for a few days that week, so I tagged along for the trip. While Dad worked, Mom and I gallivanted. 

But before we gallivanted, all three of us watched "The Godfather." Research, you know. Into Italian culture and all that. None of us had ever seen it before, and I was surprised how much I enjoyed it. It was also fun to finally know the origin of all those references in "You've Got Mail." It certainly is a quotable movie. My mom sums up the film:

"This is why everybody likes this movie! They walk softly and carry...GUNS! It's true! They're so understated!"

But that is a rabbit trail. The point of this post is Italy, not the Italian-American Mafia.  

Florence

After recovering from the drive to Italy, Mom and I traipsed off to Florence, which is a three hour drive from where Dad works in Vicenza. Driving in Italy is...interesting. Let's just say that Italian drivers are very fond of their horns. And not terribly fond of lane demarcations.

It was entertaining to drive my parents' Volvo XC90 through the cramped, market-choked, one-way streets of old Florence to find a parking garage. Fun fact: the streets of Florence look very different when you're trying to drive through them than when you're looking at a map. There's really no comparison: lines on a map cannot possibly capture the crookedness, narrowness, or patina of those streets. Or all the market vendors and tourists who blithely stroll right in front of the car as if it's not there. I'm sure there's some sort of faith metaphor in the map/reality discrepancy, but I haven't teased it out yet. 

Once we got the car parked, we sauntered through the streets, enjoying the sunshine. We window shopped for jewelry on the Ponte Vecchio bridge and perused a leather bags market that's been there at least since Mom was in college (she still has a satchel she got there in her college days).

An aside: there is nothing like the smell of leather. If there were a vanilla leather scented candle, I would buy one and have it lit all the time. (Wait: a quick google search just revealed that there are quite a few leather-scented candles on the market. Several of which are now on my Amazon wish list...)

The duomo overshadows the whole town - it's hard to capture how absolutely massive it is. Because we only had an afternoon in Florence and we didn't want to run ourselves ragged, we decided to not even try to see all the different museums and sights of the city. We mostly stuck around the duomo and the very heart of town. 

A trip to Italy wouldn't be complete without gelato, so I made sure to get some (mint), and Mom and I sat in the sun and people-watched while I ate it. We decided that there are a surprising amount of Korean tourists in Italy in February.

We did go to one museum: the duomo museum, which houses the original statuary for the duomo. The museum is beautifully designed and curated, and even though I'm not usually a statuary person, I greatly enjoyed this museum. Whoever wrote the commentaries (is that the right word?) for the exhibits was incredibly thoughtful and did an excellent job. One display, titled "Living Stones," explains:

The choice of sculpture proclaimed the city's modernity and economic strength, showing that Florence could vie with northern European cathedrals in what was then the most expensive art form, monumental statuary. It also had a religious meaning, since the New Testament calls believers "living stones" of the spiritual edifice whose foundation is Christ (1 Peter 2:5). Thus the statues and reliefs on the Duomo, Baptistery, and Bell Tower symbolized the the identity of the people of Florence, who in these carved prophets and saints contemplated their own call to holiness.

How cool is that? They also included an incredible sonnet that Michelangelo wrote as he contemplated his life work - I posted it here.

One of the main reasons I wanted to go to this museum is to see the choir that Della Roba designed for the duomo:

I remembered this piece from when we were in Florence when I was a child (which is saying something, since I don't usually remember statuary). I love the movement and joy depicted in the panels, which reflect the different instruments for praising the Lord listed in Psalm 150. 

I also discovered a new favorite: this Madonna and Child by Andrea Pisano.

This might just be my favorite portrayal of Mary and Jesus ever. Guys, she's tickling him! And he's trying to push her hand away. I love how tender and joyful and beautiful this is. 

After the museum we went to tea at Gilli's - a marvelously elegant cafe that's been around for a couple hundred years. In a place like Florence it's important to make sure to look in all different directions so you don't miss anything: this painting was on the ceiling of the cafe. 

Speaking of art, there are all sorts of street artists in Florence, and I picked up this delightful painting from one of them - he was busily painting another as I paged through his wares.

We had dinner at a hole in the wall restaurant, where the waiter vigorously denied the claim that it isn't expected to tip waiters in Italy. Methinks he was slightly self-interested.

Venice

On Friday, Mom and I got up well before any tourists were on the streets in Florence and hit the road. We drove back to Vicenza, picked up Dad, who was done with his trial, and were in Venice by noon. We timed our trip to Venice to make sure to give the cleanup crew plenty of time to clear the debris from the Carnival finale on Tuesday. There was still confetti, though. 

The reason Dad looks so pleased with himself in the above selfie is that he was busy taking a picture of me taking a selfie: 

Like in Florence, we didn't knock ourselves out trying to see everything: we just moseyed. 

Venice does have tons of canals and bridges, but there are also miles and miles of little streets and squares that aren't on the water. It's great fun to wander through them and discover hidden treasures. 

We discovered a wonderful print shop, and I left with more art. These cats make me very happy.

The little takeout restaurant above doesn't look like much, but it has the best pesto pasta I've ever had. The secret to this restaurant's success: it's takeout, but it's fresh pasta. Boxed spaghetti will never taste the same. 

Mom got a kick out of the window display below, because it's not really a display at all - just trays of cookies that have been seriously depleted. The message: "our baked goods are so delicious that we don't bother putting effort into presentation, because people are buying them so fast the display won't last."

I love the time-worn patina of Venice. Mom put it well: 

"I can't think of anywhere else where decay is so beautiful."

I had wanted to see the inside of St. Mark's Basilica, but we arrived there an hour after it closed. Whoops. Lesson learned: when spending the day in Venice, take the bus (which is a boat) down the Grand Canal to St. Mark's first, then spend the rest of the day moseying. Otherwise you'll end up at St. Mark's too late and take the bus down the Grand Canal in the dark. (And when I say in the dark, I mean it. Venice, unlike every other city, has practically zero lights on its main thoroughfare. So after sunset, it is very dark. Weird.) 

This is the bus stop, folks. The stop itself is a floating dock. Can you imagine this being your regular bus stop? With gondoliers ferrying tourists around as you wait to get wherever you're going?

Coda: Oberammergau

Saturday morning we packed up and started the long drive back to Germany. When we left Italy, it was around 50 degrees Fahrenheit and sunny. By the time we crossed the border into Austria, we had to face the reality that it's still winter north of the alps.

We broke our drive in the little alpine town of Oberammergau, best known for the Passion Play that it produces every 10 years and for its incredible woodwork. It is a charming, quiet little town, and spending the night there was the perfect way to ease back into a German winter. 

Now that I'm back in Munich, it's been snowing steadily for several days. But I have bright Italian art above my bed to keep me cheerful until spring arrives. 

Things I Learned This Month | January 2018

As per usual, I'm following Emily Freeman's lead to share a handful of things I learned this month. 

1. In Italy, hot chocolate is more like hot, drinkable chocolate custard than our typical hot chocolate. Basically, it's to die for.

2. Shortbread cookies only take 3 ingredients. This one's dangerous, y'all.

3. Skiing is not the only thing to do in the mountains in winter. There's also sledding, snowshoeing, hiking, and frolicking in the snow. I climbed up a mountain with a friend last weekend (we were supposed to be sledding but kept wondering what vistas would open before us if we went just a little higher), and it was such a blast.

4. I am not a good speller. It's embarrassing, but it's true. I've ignored the fact for years, because usually when in doubt I can do a quick google to double-check my spelling. But now I'm a teacher. In a classroom. Where I'm frequently writing vocabulary words on the blackboard. While I'm usually right about my spelling, I'm also occasionally wrong. It's a lesson in humility to stand in front of a classroom and admit that I managed to graduate from college without a firm grip on spelling. (Ironically, my German spelling is perfect.) *sigh*

5. Just because I want to watch a TV show in the middle of the afternoon, when I can't, does not mean that I want to watch one in the evening, when I can. Do you ever plan to use your relaxing time one way, really look forward to it, and then realize that it's not actually what you want to do when the free time comes? I do. Strangely enough, I sometimes make myself do the thing anyway. I wanted to do it earlier, so I must want to do it now, right?!? While this is good when it comes to things like exercising, it's just kind of ridiculous when it comes to something like watching a show on Netflix. It was weirdly freeing to recognize this pattern and give myself permission to not do the thing I thought I wanted to do. Am I crazy?

6. The Munich Readery is one of my happy places. 

7. Along those lines...I've turned into a multiple-books-at-once kind of person. Through high school, I was very firmly a one-book-at-a-time person. I'm not sure when that changed, but I realized this week that I'm currently reading two hard-copy books, a book on my kindle, a different book on my phone's kindle app, and listening to an audiobook. Oh, and that doesn't count my daily Bible reading. Oy. (A good friend of mine recently told me that "to say you're bookish is to say a fish prefers to swim in water." Ha.)

Via Pinterest

An Uneventful Chronicle

I did something dangerous this week.

I went to a bookstore.

A bookstore that I avoid at all costs - because when I go into this particular bookstore, horrible things happen to my wallet and to the Improve Kate's German Skills Project.

Let me back up.

During the summer of 2015, when I did Wheaton in Germany, I made a startling discovery: for the first time my German was good enough that browsing a German bookstore was tantalizing, rather than overwhelming. I found that I could read the average book in German without undue effort - not necessarily understanding every word, but certainly getting the gist of the content and the atmosphere the author was creating.

I went a little crazy - if I remember correctly, in the span of 7 weeks I bought 21 books, justifying this to myself because I didn't know when I'd be back in Germany, and ordering German books is cost-prohibitive.

Now, I'm living and working in Germany, and, ironically enough, I speak English around 75% of the time. I speak English with my students, with my Chinese roommate, and with the members of my choir (it's an international choir and English tends to be the common language). Church is the one place I speak almost entirely German.

So, I decided that this year I need to read as much German as possible, both to broaden my literary horizons and my vocabulary. I got myself a library card and started reading any book that I pulled off the shelf that seemed interesting. I do allow myself to read English books at bedtime, when my focus isn't good enough to process in a second language, but I try not to pick up any superfluous English books or think about my extensive TBR (to be read) list.

Via Pinterest

However, I am in a Skype book club with some pals from my semester in Oxford, and our next book is Wide Sargasso Sea, a spin on Jane Eyre that tells the story of Mr. Rochester's mad wife Bertha. Wide Sargasso Sea isn't on kindle, and it's enough of a niche book that I knew I wouldn't find it in the English section of a German bookstore.

The one place in Munich I thought I might find it was The Munich Readery, the largest English language secondhand bookstore in Germany. The only other time I'd been there, I spent far too long browsing and had a very hard time controlling my impulse to buy 10 books. Hence why it's a personal rule to avoid it at all costs.

But on Tuesday I had a mission: find Wide Sargasso Sea.

I gave myself a strict talking to - I could buy one other book - and took myself to the Readery after work.

I'm not kidding when I say that being in that bookstore is both dizzyingly delightful and excruciating. The owners have impeccable taste and an incredibly well-stocked store, with a wider, more carefully chosen selection than I've seen in any used bookstore in the states.

Via Pinterest

They didn't fail me: I found Wide Sargasso Sea in no time, filed correctly under R for Rhys.

And then I browsed. I think I groaned multiple times as I saw books that are either dear favorites or have been on my TBR list for ages.

One more book became two, and then I circled the shop multiple times which two I would splurge on.

The Contenders:

Jayber Crow, by Wendell Berry - TBR
Housekeeping, by Marilynne Robinson - a favorite
American Gods, by Neil Gaiman - TBR
The Gift, by Lewis Hyde - TBR
Cloister Walk, by Kathleen Norris - a favorite
Dakota, by Kathleen Norris - TBR
Haroun and the Sea of Stories, by Salmon Rushdie - a favorite
several slim volumes of poetry by Denise Levertov

There were more, but those are the ones that held me captive as I tried to reconcile myself to not getting them.

I finally made it to the register with my selection:

Wide Sargasso Sea, by Jean Rhys
Amazing Grace: A Vocabulary of Faith, by Kathleen Norris
Little, Big, by John Crowley

As the owner tallied up my bill, I commented on how impressed I was with the Denise Levertov selection. She's an exceptional poet, but I have never seen so many of her volumes in one place. (The Readery has 5 or 6, and most major bookstores in the States carry one, if that.)

He responded: "Yeah, they don't sell well, but I keep them around because I know someday someone will come in and say 'This is exactly what I'm looking for!'"

I replied ruefully that that someone is me, but I cannot justify buying more poetry before I finish working my way through Czeslaw Milosz's collected poems - a volume more than 700 pages long.

"Hmmm. Well, I also have Levertov's memoir."

He had me. Hook, line, and sinker. Levertov is not only an amazing poet, she also has an intriguing background - her father was a Russian Jew who converted to Christianity, and she emigrated to the US as a communist atheist before eventually returning to Christianity herself. So I added Tesserae: Memories & Suppositions to my stack. And promptly spent all my pocket money.

Buying four books at once always leaves me feeling a little tipsy. I left the shop, euphoric that my backpack now contained not only a haul from the local library but also four precious books in English bound to bring much reading pleasure.

And with that, I wrap up what may seem an "uneventful chronicle" (to quote O. Henry) to the few faithful who read this blog, but which has left me tickled pink all week.

Christmas in Europe

I love Christmas markets. Sometimes when I mention this to friends in the states they nod, completely understanding what I'm talking about. Other times, I get confused looks: "What's a Christmas market?"

Christmas markets, or Weihnachtsmärkte, are basically outdoor festivals with stalls offering handcrafted wares, delicious food and drink, and local specialities. The biggest markets are open from the beginning of December all the way through Christmas, but smaller towns often host their own markets for one or two weekends of advent. 

Several European countries have them, but without a doubt they are most popular in Germany. I grew up going to Weihnachtsmärkte with my family. Mom would endlessly browse the wares, and Charlie and I would do our best to be patient while our fingers froze. The hours were punctuated by edible treats - chocolate-covered fruit, crepes, and bratwurst. We would sip mugs of Kinderpunsch - the non-alcoholic version of Glühwein, a mulled wine that is a staple at German Christmas festivities. (This year I upgraded to Glühwein, and it is sooooooo good.)

I'm used to there being one, maybe two, Weihnachtsmärkte per town. Munich however, is the third largest city in Germany and has more than a dozen. A friend of mine found this map of the Weihnachtsmärkte (also often called Christkindlmärkte) in Germany according to the nearest subway stations, which was super helpful. 

I only managed to visit five of the ones in Munich, but I also went to the one in Nürnberg, several in Innsbruck (that Austrian ski resort has six), and two in Budapest when I met Charlie there a few weeks ago. Am I through? Nope. Tonight my family is hitting the Mainz Markt, and also possibly one in a town on the Rhine river. I thought about waiting to write this post until after the last two, but that would entail writing a blog post on Christmas Eve, and, let's be real, I'm not about to do that. 

I tried to remember to take lots of pictures to share a sliver of the Weihnachtsmarkt experience with y'all, though sadly I can't share the smells and tastes over the internet. 

Nürnberg

The Nürnberg Christkindlmarkt is by far the most famous Weihnachtsmarkt in Germany. With around 200 stalls, the heart of the market is in the center of Nurnberg's old town, though it spills out into the surrounding streets as well. This is the one my family went to almost every year when I was growing up, and going back there a few weeks ago was a trip down memory lane. 

In addition to sipping Glühwein and munching on Bratwurst, I love window-shopping at all the different stalls. 

Prune dolls are a local Nürnberg specialty. 

There are stalls where you can totally outfit a miniature home, complete with washing machine and dryer.

München

I loved popping into different Munich Weihnachtsmärkte on my way home from work this month. Maybe the coolest one was the medieval market, complete with roasted pig:

The Munich markets also have a lot of wonderful wares for sale.

Maroni are roasted chestnuts. In spite of the ubiquitous Christmas song, I have never seen these in the states, but they are all over the place in Germany during the winter. They are an acquired taste, but I have learned to love the earthy flavor and the welcome warmth.

The mistletoe vendor reads when business is slow...

These are potato pancakes with jam sandwiched in between. So yummy. 

I have to mention, while on the whole I have been soul-satisfied with the food at the Weihnachtsmarkt  fare, there is one dish I really miss: mushrooms soaked in a creamy garlic sauce. We used to get them at the Heidelberg market, and I thought that they were standard fare, but perhaps they were a local specialty. Sad day.

In addition to the traditional markets, Munich also has a couple of alternative markets. They are not my favorite, but this one is worth mentioning. It's the Tollwood festival, held on Theresienwiese, the same place that Oktoberfest is held.  Vegetarian fare, charms, and new agey stalls are standard here, while the tents are venues for concerts and talk shows. Though it isn't my favorite, I did enjoy getting a taste of a market with a very different vibe than usual. 

Innsbruck, Austria

Nestled in a valley in the Austrian alps, Innsbruck is a perfect location for a Weihnachtsmarkt.

There's a live brass band playing under the golden roof. It adds the perfect finishing touch to the evening ambiance of the market.

I love gnomes.

Kids take a virtual sleigh ride down a mountain.

Each market has its own special Glühwein mugs. When you purchase the Glühwein, you pay a deposit for the mug. Then you can choose whether to return it or keep it as a souvenir. I haven't kept any so far, but my parents have a burgeoning collection.

My friend Katherine and I were pleasantly surprised to receive two giant Bratwurst for the price of one. No complaints there.

Most of the Weihnachtsmärkte have at least one large nativity. They also have stalls chock full of nativity sets in different sizes and styles. You could spend hours choosing the perfect figures for your own nativity scene.

I wasn't planning to get one, but when I saw this Holy Family I knew instantly that this would be my Christmas present to myself. I look forward to displaying this for years to come.

Budapest, Hungary

I met up with Charlie in Budapest a few weeks ago, and we had fun exploring the Budapest Christmas markets. While many of the stalls sold goods that were familiar from the German markets, there was also a distinctly Hungarian vibe to the markets that I enjoyed. 

In particular, the food was distinctive. In addition to sausages, the Hungarian markets had a lot of fried dough dishes that would be smothered in goulash, vegetables, or powdered sugar for dessert. 

We were a fan of chimney cakes. A classic Hungarian street food, they are made of dough wrapped around a stake and roasted, then covered with cinnamon sugar. Once pulled off the stake and wrapped in plastic, steam rises up from the top, hence earning the name chimney cakes. 

What a treat to get to sample so many Weihnachtsmärkte - definitely one of my favorite things about spending Christmas in Europe.