Stille Nacht, Guten Rutsch

Christmas 2010 will go down in history as a year of firsts:

1. First Christmas abroad

2. First Christmas sans Andells (a sad first)

3. First snowy Christmas (Mom and Dad, can you verify this?)

4. First time celebrating Christmas morning as a couple

5. First Christmas Eve at a German church (and probably the last)

6. First Weihnachtsmarkt (Christmas Market), and thus the first Glühwein

7. First attempt at homemade pesto (too much oil)

8. First homemade crepes made for a boyfriend (delicious and a good way to use oily pesto!)

9. First slumber party in a haunted, Nazi-tainted castle

And while certainly not firsts, long walks, good conversation, delicious coffee and pretzels were enjoyed by all.

The Weihnachtsmarkt: where friends, Glühwein and shopping mix!

To Europeans, the Münster is another cool cathedral.

For Americans, it's a marvel.

Glühwein: spiced, heated wine.

New Year's resolution: be organized like the Germans!

Instead of simply putting lights on trees (especially not colorful lights like the Andells), Germans often light candles on their trees. This would scare the shit out of me.

Enjoying a house-brewed beer at Feierling

Evan loved Flammkuchen, a thin, German pizza with creme fraiche instead of tomato sauce.

In Freiburg, these stars (found also in red)

hung outside of most houses and businesses in the Altstadt

View from Freiburg's Schlossberg

Christmas morning: french toast and coffee.

A view of the Rhine in Bacharach, where we stayed in a castle.

"To the red bear": a gladiator facing certain death.

Bacharach

A front view of the castle, which was built in the 11th century and served as a youth indoctrination camp during the Nazi regime.

We stopped in this weird bar to have a drink. The town was inhabited by about 20 old people. When we came in, everyone stopped, stared and started talking about us. It was the perfect setting for a horror film--we stayed up all night scaring each other.

Those two weeks were about being young, poor and in love. I wish everyone on Earth could experience that.

The Arrival

If you ask me what I did for two weeks this Christmas, I could tell you in a sentence. If you ask me how I enjoyed those two weeks, I might tell you (in Evan's poetic words) that it was "like living in the most beautiful movie ever made."

I'll admit, I was not smiling for most of the day preceding his arrival. I had been greeted for the past two days with squirms and assurances so superficial, that they felt like warnings. The airports in Europe were overflowing with stranded travellers--there were delays even in ever-punctual Germany. I had no idea whether Evan had made it to Milan, where he had a tortuous 8-hour delay. I also belatedly realized that the way I had written down my cell phone number could be confusing for anyone who had never called a European before. No one could drag my eyes from my computer screen (nor my teeth from my fingernails) as I watched his flight delay by 1 hour, then 2, then 3. It would have been impossible to catch his train to Freiburg at this point. I was a bad girlfriend, wasn't I? Why didn't I pick him up at the airport? Why did I leave him to the frustration all by himself--to save a little money?

Then, a moment of relief. With a 50-minute train delay, it would be possible for him to catch the train--IF he was among the first to pick up his bags, IF he didn't get lost in the sprawling Frankfurt airport, IF he didn't heed my previous advice that "German trains are always on time." If...

I busied myself as best as I could, watching "Leave it to Beaver," folding clothes, making pesto. When I couldn't wait any longer, I walked down to the train station, dark and deserted. His train would be the last to arrive for the night. I paced back and forth on the platform, sharing commiserating eyes with two strangers also waiting for their loved ones.

The approaching hum of the train (it was a fancy ICE train, nothing like the clumsy kerplunk of Amtrak), the whizz of white and red. I found myself chasing the train, as if it might not stop; searching for Evan's blonde hair, his red flannel coat, the bulge of his backpack.

It stopped. He climbed out. I had no words. I love you ran on repeat through my head.

He didn't smell as bad as I'd predicted.

Reality [TV] in Germany

I don't have a TV in my apartment, and I'm not sure that I want one. The devil on one shoulder makes some good points. The days are getting shorter...wouldn't it be nice..."Pillars of the Earth (Die Säulen der Erde) without having to watch it at the gym...

But the angel on the other shoulder reassures me that I don't have the time, I should be social and at the gym and volunteering and making the world a better place, blah blah blah.

So, I will settle for TV at the gym--and boy, can it be entertaining.

Today, I watched a particularly inventive show called "Betrugsfälle" about women not only becoming victims of fraud, but, as one woman lamented, victims of a broken heart. Barf. A self-described "scripted-Doku," these women--usually middle-aged and blonde--are tricked by the same man who claims to be in love with them and then takes all of their money. One scene showed the victim's smarter, fatter brunette friend trying to knock some sense into her. The victim responded, doe-eyed: "that just isn't Frank! He would never do that! I love him!" At the end, the brunette lures Frank into a trap, in which he is ambushed by an army of blonde, middle-aged women who had given him their life savings. Is this supposed to be some sort of "Girl Power!" moment?

Another good one is "Bauer sucht Frau." It's about a rugged(?) farmer who is desperately in need of a wife. Check out these gorgeous men. Ok, so the dairy farmer isn't too bad, but I am really falling for the "schüchterne Schwabe."

Then there's "Deutschland sucht den Superstar." Basically, it's "America's Got Talent" or "American Idol." Simple enough.

"Blondine sucht Prinz" (there's a lot of seeking going on in Germany, apparently) follows another familiar storyline: aged model (stripper?) is looking for a man, and makes them compete against each other by doing ridiculous things. Oh, and her platinum-blonde, supertanned mother (I often confuse the two) helps her make the decision. One man has her face tattooed all over her body. Sounds like a winner!

Finally, there's apparently a show in which priests, in robes, fight each other. REALLY fight each other. I guess I'm not at the gym when this artistic feat is on. Damn.

Yoodle-ah-ee-hoo

I realize that I've been derelict in my blog updates, but I've somehow been able to replicate the kind of business (busy-ness?) that made my life in college stressful, exciting and meaningful at the same time. In German, there's a difference between wohnen (to live) and leben (to live). Wohnen simply explains where one resides; leben, on the other hand, better describes the experience of life. The first few months here were about evolving, moving away from wohnen and becoming comfortable with leben. I've tried to really make a life for myself here, so that one day I can truly say, "I lived in Freiburg. Ich habe in Freiburg gelebt."

The catch is, doing that with little to no money. Luckily, I don't need a lot. Coffee, friends, asian food. The occasional trip. Some music thrown in. Meeting new people, warm socks (warm everything, really), cooking dinner for friends...is this too much to ask?

It definitely helps when your family visits. I haven't shared my full trip with you yet, and my family deserves at least another huge blog entry.

First, I should backtrack and say something about my family: they are the best kind of people. Warm, open-minded and big-hearted, they have supported me throughout my 22 years and have shown me the kind of person I want to become. I was lucky to rarely have babysitters, enjoying nearly every afternoon and weekend day with my parents and my little brother. As I have slowly begun establishing my place in the world, I have found it impossible not to ask their advice, even regarding the silliest things. Should I change my major? Should I go to graduate school? Should I get a haircut? Do you think making pumpkin pie without pumpkin puree will be ok?

I've always wanted to impress them, so they can be proud of the little person they've shaped and be happy that they devoted so much time to us, rather than traveling the world or becoming a senator or a famous artist. They could have done those things, but they devoted their life to their family, and I could not be more grateful to have them as my best friends. When I first saw them in Freiburg, I was so comforted. Home had made it's way to Germany.

With that mushy introduction, I'll make a less-than-graceful transition to the beginning of our trip. We spent time in Freiburg, made day trips and drove in the Alps before making our way to Venice.

For once, Grandma bypasses the shoe store. Guess there were no size 5s.

Freiburger Münster

Where's Heidi? Sister Maria?

German food = comfort food.

Dinner at Feierling in Freiburg, where they brew their own beer.

Neuschwanstein Castle. Home of mad King Ludwig and dedicated to the operas of Richard Wagner--only 1/8 was finished before Ludwig mysteriously died in a nearby lake. A conflicting mischmasch of themes. Byzantine church? Medieval castle? Cave?

We're standing in front of Ludwig's boyhood castle, Hohenschwangau.

Our rental car. You can't see the mysterious dent on the front, which appeared sometime between it's departure from Milan to Freiburg. This dent caused a lot of worry during the trip, although my parents would deem it "scheming."

I found that the further south you go, the friendlier people become. We tramped through the Alps without any hotel reservations, so we had to rely on locals' recommendations. In one small town (whose name I have forgotten), one man walked us all around town trying to find us a room. And, while confusing, directions were always well-intended.

It makes me wonder sometimes--how can such a lovable people show such hatred toward "the Other?" See this Swiss political campaign for the deportation of non-Swiss (the Swiss have VERY stringent citizenship rules) deemed "criminal." Still, despite the paranoia and political persuasions of some people in the region, being surrounded by family and natural beauty showed me how I want my life to be: simple, filled with love and beautiful sunsets.

Venice

Venice is, at once, tragic and beautiful. It exists as a memory of its former glory. Like old western ghost towns, Venice was once a pleasure town--it witnessed the masquerades of Casanova fame, Marco Polo and the age of discovery and countless criminals who infamously crossed the Bridge of Sighs to their doom.

Today, the population of Venice is less than Richmond. Did I mention that it's sinking?

Part of what makes Venice so captivating is that it's endangered. Yet, signs of life were everywhere last week. When it finally stopped raining and clothes were hung out to dry in the sunshine, we smiled in relief; not for photographic opportunities, but for the city itself.

On Halloween, when miniature Venetians traveled from business to business near the Ca 'd' Oro; when, every morning, an old woman in our dark alley cheerfully lamented the lack of sun (and just as cheerfully rejected Dad's request to photograph her), we knew: Venice still lives!

Some highlights of the visit:

1. 40 euro for 4 cappuccinos in St. Mark's square (not to mention a classy band!)

2. Had a little fun with the [Egyptian] locals at a touristy restaurant: Dad ordered a side of roasted potatoes and ate them with his meal. Long after we had finished and were finishing the wine, a waiter approached us with a new plate of potatoes that he did not order. Dad, clearly confused, confused the waiter. Ten minutes later, the waiter came to the table with Dad's full meal--poking fun at his earlier mistake. A nice departure from the grumpy Italians!

3. Venice at sunset. It's as romantic as you imagine--even without the gondola. I held hands with Grandma.

Nice hats, y'all.

On the island of Murano.

Fish market

St. Mark's square at dusk

It's hard to get a good picture of the massive and ancient St. Mark's, so I picked a corner.

Nom noms

Italy, unite! You too, Pete!

Venetian glass

The trip wouldn't be complete without a picture with a gondolier.

German Leitkultur

Interesting read--a fascinating time to be in Europe. While he makes a lot of good (and I believe, accurate) points, I don't really agree with his interpretation of the Stuttgart 21 protests. Rather than seeing them as anti-progress, I see them as a sort of citizen's arrest and holding government accountable.

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/10/29/opinion/29Habermas.html?_r=1&hp

Vegetarianism in Bratland

Perhaps my decision to become a vegetarian before coming to Germany was not well-timed, as Germans and Americans alike have told me. After all, this is the country of Bratwurst, Knockwurst, Leberwurst, Blutwurst, Rinderfleisch, Schnitzel, Sauerbraten and Mettbrötchen.

Some of these delicacies--namely, Blutwurst and Mettbrötchen--would be taboo in the States. Blutwurst is "blood sausage." It has such a high concentration of blood, it's more like a spread than a meat. Drooling yet?

You will find many people enjoying a filling Mettbrötchen on the square or in the market as a snack or quick lunch. Imagine ground beef. Raw. On a roll. With onions! yummy. Wanting to have the full German experience while in Frankfurt last year, I hesitantly ate one of these cold, texture-rich sandwiches. When I asked if there was harmful bacteria in it, I was told, "not enough to make you sick." Hmm.

Since then, I've realized that there are countless reasons why I am better fit to be a vegetarian than a meat-eater. There are ethical reasons, environmental reasons and health reasons for it; so many reasons, in fact, that I can't go into them now. I have always wanted to make the plunge. I've been teetering for too long. I have been a vegetarian since early July, and I'm not looking back.

This decision has not affected life here in Germany. Yes, sometimes the smell of Bratwurst in the market square does tempt me--but not enough to abandon my principles. It's easy to forget that factory farming exists in Europe, when you see these old-world, mom n' pop butcher stores. And while there is definitely more such stores here than in the States, you must make a conscious effort to choose this meat over the discount meat in Aldi. A lot of people aren't willing to make that sacrifice. Also, McDonald's is actually kind of chic here. Try putting "McDonald's" and "ethical" in the same sentence. It's not even as good as the German imbisses and bakeries. Yet, every time I walk by the McDonald's at the Martinstor, it's packed. I don't get it.

It can be hard to eat at traditional German restaurants, but it's not impossible. I would say that it's just as hard to eat at a German restaurant as it is at a southern, homestyle restaurant. I'm reminded of the night before I left for Germany when I ate at Cracker Barrel with my parents. I ordered the vegetable soup with an egg and a piece of cornbread. "We use beef broth in the vegetable soup," our server said, " and animal fat for the biscuits." Not wanting to be a cranky customer, I ate them anyway. I shouldn't have told him I was a vegetarian. On the other hand, they should offer more vegetarian options--what, with all of the Canadian and yankee travelers...

So, I've decided to make a list of German dishes fit for vegetarians (sorry, vegans):

1. Käsespätzle. Basically, German macaroni and cheese--but with eggy noodles and carmelized onions on top.

2. Lentil soup. I've made this several times myself, and it usually feeds me for days. I like to put lots of vegetables in it and eat it with a crusty piece of bread. Potato soup and pumpkin soup are also quite popular.

3. Flammkuchen. Flammkuchen is the German answer to pizza. It has a thin crust a white sauce instead of a tomato sauce. Lots of vegetarian options here, and pretty much every restaurant offers it.

4. Aufläufe. Think casseroles, but creamier. Usually baked with rice or pasta (my favorite includes gnocchi), cheese, cream sauce and vegetables of your choosing. Of course, you can also add meat, if you are a heartless animal-hater (joking. sorta.).

In Freiburg, there are plenty of Asian and Italian restaurants to keep vegetarians satisfied. Even Döner stands offer meatless kebabs for vegetarians (or for people who don't like to see their dinner scraped off a spinning tower of lamb meat).

Of course, meatless German staples include potato salad, cabbage and sauerkraut. The outdoor markets also offer a lot of local, fresh produce and fruit. The bread and pastries are also to die for.

Guten Appetit!