Well, the 'fun' never ends...ahem!
We live in an apartment with a back door that leads to all the recycling bins in a small enclosed alleyway. Today, I was on my way down to the basement to do some laundry when I thought I'd kill two birds with one stone by throwing out some cardboard on the way. I went down to street level, left the laundry by the stairs and opened the back door to put the box in the blue bin. I noticed another box blown by the wind to an overgrown vine covered area, so leaned over the fence to retrieve it when I heard an ominous click. The wind had closed the door!
I went to open it, but it didn't budge. I had my house keys on me so looked for the key hole...no key hole. At this point, I was looking around for options. I thought of banging on the door, but no one was around except Elowyn who knew I was going down to do laundry, but who also had her headphones on and was watching videos whilst watching TV and all the windows were closed...so no help there. There was an elderly lady on the third floor, but she had gone out shopping for market day and everyone else was at work. Elowyn would have to be my salvation.
The area I was in was approx 1.5m x 4m enclosed by a high wooden fence on three sides and the wall of the apartment on the other. One fence was at waist level. I peered over at a mess of vines and the construction site of deep mud, various digging machines, piles of wood and stone and debris. I looked down at the slippers I was wearing and was fully prepared to lose them in the mud. The construction crew were in the pit pouring concrete and the din of the cement mixing truck did not bode well for someone hearing me.
I contemplated just hanging out until someone else came home to throw out recycling, but it was only 3pm, and it would be at least 2 hours or more before people came home, and being late November, it was chilly outside and I didn't have a coat on. I heard Steven's voice in my head, 'wallet, keys, phone', and cursed having not brought my phone with me. Lord! I didn't want to hear any, "I told you so later".
I looked back at the fence and the vines on the other side. I didn't know what was under said vines, and was wary about stepping on something, so reached over and started to pull them out and toss them in the bio bin close by. This went on for 20 min., but now my nose was starting to run and I felt really chilled.
The construction guys were still pouring concrete all this time and were still in the pit and couldn't see me. What a dilemma. I waited another ten minutes and finally, the engines stopped and one construction dude climbed out of the pit. Knowing this might be my only chance for a long time, I yelled as loud as I could to catch his attention while waving my arms frantically.
Thank God, he heard and saw me and came over looking puzzled. Now was the moment of truth. I had been outside in the cold for 30 minutes planning my escape. I spoke in careful, if very simple German to him of my plan.
"Hallo, wie gehts?" (Hi, how are you?)
He grinned and said he was well. Then asked how I was. This was when it got dicey. I had to make him understand that I wanted him to go to the street in front of the apartment, ring the bell that said my name, K.Hille and wait for my daughter to buzz him in, then to go in, walk to the back of the apartment, open the door, and end my icebox experience. So this is what I said:
"Enschuldigen, mein Deutsch is ganz schlimm. Ich bin sehr kalt, aber Ich hat die papier und denn die tur ist geschlossen. Der ist kein schlossel. Kanst du gehe zum die Hause und klinge die Klinge bei K. Hille? Meine Tochter will anrufen, dann du kommst zuruck und ofen die tur fur mich. bitte. Okay?"
He scratched his head. Because this is what I had actually said:
"I'm sorry, my German is very bad. I am very cold, but I have the paper and the door is closed. He is not a key. Can you go home and sound the blade at K. Hille? My daughter wants to call you, then you come back and open the door for me please, okay?"
I figured hand gestures were the next order of business since he wasn't quite getting it and now the other construction guys were giving him smack and whistling and laughing and here the poor guy was trying to understand me. I repeated words this time, but didn't know the word for bell, so mimicked pressing a bell and saying bzzzzzzzzz! He got it right away this time, about the buzzer pressing thing anyway and I made motions that my daughter would open the front door on the buzz. He got out a piece of paper and wrote my name on it for the right button to press and then after 10 minutes of repeating my very poor instructions and despite the other guy's heckling, off he went.
At this point, I started to say a few 'Hail Mary's for good measure and threw in an 'Our Father' for good measure waiting on pins and needles for what seemed an interminably long time when finally, the back door opened and there stood my unlikely hero.
I broke out into a big smile, my teeth chattering, my nose red and running, my eyes watering from the cold, but oh so happy! I shook his hand and thanked him again and again while he waved to his friends and stuck out his chest. He'll have a story to tell his family tonight!
I was shivering now, but there was my wet laundry still waiting, so I walked to the basement, put it on and climbed up the three flights of stairs to our apartment. I knocked on the door and Elowyn answered.
"Where were you?"
"Locked out!"
"Really?!?"
"Yes!"
"You actually helped by buzzing in the construction guy".
Then I told her the whole story and she looked amazed, then started laughing. "I'm going to tell Daddy!"
"Why don't you make me a tea instead.' 'Plus I'm going to need two blankets to warm up".
Moral of the story, take your phone, keys and wallet when leaving the apartment...even if it's just to do laundry.
Brrrrrrrrrr!
Wednesday, 30 November 2016
Misadventures by Train from Paris
There are all sorts of advantages traveling by train these days: less security checks, no lost luggage or waiting around for luggage to come down a carousel, no restrictions on liquids or food being brought with you, more legroom, wider seats, better scenery and sometimes even less time spent in travel if you factor in the time you have to spend at an airport waiting for your plane, and of course it costs less if traveling second class.
So, that's sounds great, yes? Why wouldn't everyone travel by train then? That's exactly what I thought; especially the part about no restrictions on liquids and food being brought home with you, because we were in Paris after all, so of course we're bringing home cheeses, wine, mustards, fine chocolates, delectable macarons, chestnut and chocolate spreads, jams and sauces; a regular traveling pantry I'd say!
Our journey by taxi was actually enjoyable being picked up by a roomy Mercedes as it were. The friendly taxi guy spoke some frenglish which went well with our frenglish so we got on well and learned a few things. He brought us right up close to the sparkling Gare du Nord, and I say sparkling because the last time I was there 30 years ago, it was a dank, dirty and dingy place with filthy floors, beggars everywhere and very rude vendors who ripped you off for a small, stale sandwich. Now, it's a gleaming palace in comparison with a new glittery red bear like piece of art in front. But, before you get into this gleaming transportation hub, you must traverse 30 metres of being swarmed by pickpockets and so called beggars who really intend to distract and steal from you, and in fact, work in gangs of 5 or more. We learned this from everyone we met and actually had some dicey encounters ourselves, but that's another story.
So, we waded through the these annoyances clutching luggage and valuable Paris delicacies to the 'palace' because once inside, the gendarmerie were an ominous presence and there was nary a pickpocketer or 'beggar' to bother you.
Following Steven's advice (he'd traveled home two days before my sister and I with Elowyn), we got out of the cold and went by elevator upstairs to a Relay Store which is a book/magazine/snack/coffee store. We scored two comfortable seats in the warm store and ordered a coffee while we waited for our track to show up on the digital board. This is shown 30 min. before the train leaves.
When it was, we went back down and queued for security. This was new, didn't queue in Düsseldorf, but we were in Paris who is on high alert for terrorists and was like this in every museum and attraction we visited, so it was part of the new normal. In fact, the week we were there, the police had foiled some kind of terrorist plot and arrested a bunch of people.
Anyway, as luck would have it, our train was attached to another train and we would be separating in Brussels. Because of this, we had to walk a good 200 m all the way to the very last car on the train. Finally got in, stored our luggage and blissfully sank into our seats for the 3hr 55 min ride...or so we thought.
All went smoothly despite a family with four, count em FOUR babies under three years old. Two of them were twins, none of them were happy and all of them wore diapers, smelly diapers. It's hard to have an appetite when crying babies are being changed out of their poopy diapers RIGHT in the train cabin! I later checked out the facilities and in this day and age you'd think someone would design an area for a parent to change their child's diaper in a clean, safe, and well ventilated place! Maybe there was such a place in another car, but for convenience sake of her crying children, the mother changed them right there and everyone else had to suffer through the galling smell while we all covered our noses and breathed through our scarves to survive the diaper exchange. Lord!
The train was fast and arrived in Brussels on time where we separated our train and moved on towards Germany. In Köln, the family with all the babies got off and the rest of us breathed a sigh of relief thinking our troubles were over, but no, they were just about to begin.
We made good time and the train engineer announced we were about to arrive in the hauptbahnhof in Düsseldorf. We packed up our devices, got our coats on, and our luggage and queued in the aisles to get off as the train pulled in to the dark station at 8pm. We waited and waited until suddenly, the engineer said in four languages, "Close the doors, nobody is allowed off!" That was curious! One German guy looked out the darkened window and peered at the signpost and said in German," This is not Düsseldorf!" Now, our whole car was straining towards the window to see if it was true until the engineer said, "Sorry, we are not in Düsseldorf, we are in Sollingen!" WHAT?!? Now our train erupted with everyone talking at once. I asked German guy where Sollingen was and he said it was 45 km Northwest of Köln and no where near Düsseldorf which is straight north from Köln. Now we were in a pickle. What the hell happened?!? At first, we were joking about it and I said that the engineer had too much glüwein (mulled wine) until someone said ominously, "But, this is a FRENCH train!" It was then that we all got silent and worried, especially the Germans.
The engineer came on again sounding exasperated and apologized again and said we'd be at our destination soon. We started crawling along, then stopping and everyone seemed worried. I asked German guy why we were going so slow. He said that the engineer had made a terrible mistake by going on the wrong track and not to have noticed it for 45 km because all the trains were on schedules and now we were not on course and it was dangerous to proceed with other high speed trains on the same track, there could be a collision. I texted Steven and told him we'd be late and didn't know when we'd get in, and that we had missed our connecting train.
Ten minutes later, the engineer announced confidently that NOW we had arrived in Düsseldorf, but German guy looked out his window and said, it's impossible, it takes more than 10 min. to get to Düsseldorf from Solingen especially in a very slow train. And he was right, because a few moments later, an audibly agitated engineer announced this was NOT Düsseldorf after all and to close the doors.
All the passengers were talking at this point wondering if the engineer was incompetent, or 'in his cups' as one guy said. The train crawled on, stopping and going.
We finally arrived at our destination 45 min. late and hurried to catch the next connecting train to Ratingen. By this time, we were tired and it was much colder in the dark evening air, but we caught the next train which goes every 30 min. and settled down for the short ride.
I had texted Steven that we were coming, so he was coming by car to pick us up. We had arrived, went down the ramps, but no Steven.
Where are you? I texted.
Right here by the buses.
What buses?
Right at the only exit.
We ARE at the only exit and there's no one here.
We are on the street. (I texted the intersection names then took a photo of the train station sign too for good measure).
You got off at the wrong stop, you're 6 km away!
Then my phone died. Yeah...
Having a power bar came in handy, but it was buried in my purse, then I had to find the right cord. And finally I said to my sister, let's get back on the next train and go further. So, up the long ramps we trudged to the platform while my phone started juicing up. Then of course, I was locked out of my phone and needed the SIM number. Finally unlocked the dumb phone and texted Steven to stay where he was and wait for us.
Thankfully he got the message and did wait. We got on the next train and arrived home two hours behind schedule. ThalysTrain is getting a letter from me.
Good to be home. Today we try the Beaujolais wine to celebrate.
Would I travel by train again? Yes! But maybe, not a French train!
So, that's sounds great, yes? Why wouldn't everyone travel by train then? That's exactly what I thought; especially the part about no restrictions on liquids and food being brought home with you, because we were in Paris after all, so of course we're bringing home cheeses, wine, mustards, fine chocolates, delectable macarons, chestnut and chocolate spreads, jams and sauces; a regular traveling pantry I'd say!
Our journey by taxi was actually enjoyable being picked up by a roomy Mercedes as it were. The friendly taxi guy spoke some frenglish which went well with our frenglish so we got on well and learned a few things. He brought us right up close to the sparkling Gare du Nord, and I say sparkling because the last time I was there 30 years ago, it was a dank, dirty and dingy place with filthy floors, beggars everywhere and very rude vendors who ripped you off for a small, stale sandwich. Now, it's a gleaming palace in comparison with a new glittery red bear like piece of art in front. But, before you get into this gleaming transportation hub, you must traverse 30 metres of being swarmed by pickpockets and so called beggars who really intend to distract and steal from you, and in fact, work in gangs of 5 or more. We learned this from everyone we met and actually had some dicey encounters ourselves, but that's another story.
So, we waded through the these annoyances clutching luggage and valuable Paris delicacies to the 'palace' because once inside, the gendarmerie were an ominous presence and there was nary a pickpocketer or 'beggar' to bother you.
Following Steven's advice (he'd traveled home two days before my sister and I with Elowyn), we got out of the cold and went by elevator upstairs to a Relay Store which is a book/magazine/snack/coffee store. We scored two comfortable seats in the warm store and ordered a coffee while we waited for our track to show up on the digital board. This is shown 30 min. before the train leaves.
When it was, we went back down and queued for security. This was new, didn't queue in Düsseldorf, but we were in Paris who is on high alert for terrorists and was like this in every museum and attraction we visited, so it was part of the new normal. In fact, the week we were there, the police had foiled some kind of terrorist plot and arrested a bunch of people.
Anyway, as luck would have it, our train was attached to another train and we would be separating in Brussels. Because of this, we had to walk a good 200 m all the way to the very last car on the train. Finally got in, stored our luggage and blissfully sank into our seats for the 3hr 55 min ride...or so we thought.
All went smoothly despite a family with four, count em FOUR babies under three years old. Two of them were twins, none of them were happy and all of them wore diapers, smelly diapers. It's hard to have an appetite when crying babies are being changed out of their poopy diapers RIGHT in the train cabin! I later checked out the facilities and in this day and age you'd think someone would design an area for a parent to change their child's diaper in a clean, safe, and well ventilated place! Maybe there was such a place in another car, but for convenience sake of her crying children, the mother changed them right there and everyone else had to suffer through the galling smell while we all covered our noses and breathed through our scarves to survive the diaper exchange. Lord!
The train was fast and arrived in Brussels on time where we separated our train and moved on towards Germany. In Köln, the family with all the babies got off and the rest of us breathed a sigh of relief thinking our troubles were over, but no, they were just about to begin.
We made good time and the train engineer announced we were about to arrive in the hauptbahnhof in Düsseldorf. We packed up our devices, got our coats on, and our luggage and queued in the aisles to get off as the train pulled in to the dark station at 8pm. We waited and waited until suddenly, the engineer said in four languages, "Close the doors, nobody is allowed off!" That was curious! One German guy looked out the darkened window and peered at the signpost and said in German," This is not Düsseldorf!" Now, our whole car was straining towards the window to see if it was true until the engineer said, "Sorry, we are not in Düsseldorf, we are in Sollingen!" WHAT?!? Now our train erupted with everyone talking at once. I asked German guy where Sollingen was and he said it was 45 km Northwest of Köln and no where near Düsseldorf which is straight north from Köln. Now we were in a pickle. What the hell happened?!? At first, we were joking about it and I said that the engineer had too much glüwein (mulled wine) until someone said ominously, "But, this is a FRENCH train!" It was then that we all got silent and worried, especially the Germans.
The engineer came on again sounding exasperated and apologized again and said we'd be at our destination soon. We started crawling along, then stopping and everyone seemed worried. I asked German guy why we were going so slow. He said that the engineer had made a terrible mistake by going on the wrong track and not to have noticed it for 45 km because all the trains were on schedules and now we were not on course and it was dangerous to proceed with other high speed trains on the same track, there could be a collision. I texted Steven and told him we'd be late and didn't know when we'd get in, and that we had missed our connecting train.
Ten minutes later, the engineer announced confidently that NOW we had arrived in Düsseldorf, but German guy looked out his window and said, it's impossible, it takes more than 10 min. to get to Düsseldorf from Solingen especially in a very slow train. And he was right, because a few moments later, an audibly agitated engineer announced this was NOT Düsseldorf after all and to close the doors.
All the passengers were talking at this point wondering if the engineer was incompetent, or 'in his cups' as one guy said. The train crawled on, stopping and going.
We finally arrived at our destination 45 min. late and hurried to catch the next connecting train to Ratingen. By this time, we were tired and it was much colder in the dark evening air, but we caught the next train which goes every 30 min. and settled down for the short ride.
I had texted Steven that we were coming, so he was coming by car to pick us up. We had arrived, went down the ramps, but no Steven.
Where are you? I texted.
Right here by the buses.
What buses?
Right at the only exit.
We ARE at the only exit and there's no one here.
We are on the street. (I texted the intersection names then took a photo of the train station sign too for good measure).
You got off at the wrong stop, you're 6 km away!
Then my phone died. Yeah...
Having a power bar came in handy, but it was buried in my purse, then I had to find the right cord. And finally I said to my sister, let's get back on the next train and go further. So, up the long ramps we trudged to the platform while my phone started juicing up. Then of course, I was locked out of my phone and needed the SIM number. Finally unlocked the dumb phone and texted Steven to stay where he was and wait for us.
Thankfully he got the message and did wait. We got on the next train and arrived home two hours behind schedule. ThalysTrain is getting a letter from me.
Good to be home. Today we try the Beaujolais wine to celebrate.
Would I travel by train again? Yes! But maybe, not a French train!
Monday, 21 November 2016
Paris Day 1: The WC Incident
Today we woke up at the crack of dawn, oh did I say 'woke up?' More like got out of bed. I just can't sleep well before a trip. Toss and turn, mind going a thousand miles a minute trying to remember if I packed what I should have. And of course you'll always forget something...at least that's how it goes in my family.
Luckily, Steven gave us (me, Elowyn, and my sister who is visiting for a few months), a drive to the Hauptbahnhof (main train station for regional or international travel - DB). We got there early, really early, so had breakfast at one of the many bakeries. We walked up to our train platform to wait in the waiting room. Then, with only 10 min before our train was to arrive, E suddenly has to go pee. Wait for the train I said, but no, it was a 911, so off we went in search of a German toilet.
I saw the signs and turned the corner and saw these huge pillars declaring they were toilets. I had seen something similar to these on TV in Paris so started pressing it to find the opening, much like a secret door. Daughter started laughing at me, and the more I tried to find the hidden door, the more she laughed. Finally, I looked at her in exasperation and said, 'WHAT?' She pointed down the hall to an entrance that said WC. I glared at her and walked past.
Flustered now, I fished in my purse for change, because you know, in Germany, the toilets are NOT free. Finally found some change, quickly got a ticket, went through the glass doors which slammed shut behind me and turned a corner only to see a man peeing in one of a long line of urinals. I looked over at the wall and saw that the stick figure had two legs. Dawning horror! Oh God! I quickly walked back before Elowyn too ended up in the wrong place. Through the glass I pointed to the woman stick figure a few metres away and Elowyn's eyes grew round in surprise, then the little weasel roared with laughter...AGAIN!
Sigh....I routed in my purse, no more euros. The glass door was closed. Trapped! Our train was coming soon. I made a snap decision and thought gender neutral thoughts and turned back into the men's WC. Incredibly, the man was STILL peeing! I was thinking maybe he had Austin Powers' bladder, but he wasn't facing me so I scurried into an empty stall. The cleaning lady of the WC was humming a tune and occasionally breaking out in song. Happy in her work.
Elowyn was waiting for me with a big smile on her face. Say cheese! Click! She practically skipped up the steps on the escalator dying to tell my sister about my misadventure; the big news as it were.
And yes, I was humiliated once more with Elowyn providing embellishments in a rather loud voice in the waiting room. And for a country of people who don't seem to speak a lick of English when you ask them a question, there were plenty of Germans openly grinning. Yeah....
One small mercy, thankfully, they weren't on my train. Elowyn says that she'll go to the bathroom with me ANYTIME. Finally, I had to laugh. These things always seem to happen to me. I know I will be reliving this as Elowyn will be sure to spread the word, so I'm one upping her and giving it to you straight by writing it myself.
Teens!
Luckily, Steven gave us (me, Elowyn, and my sister who is visiting for a few months), a drive to the Hauptbahnhof (main train station for regional or international travel - DB). We got there early, really early, so had breakfast at one of the many bakeries. We walked up to our train platform to wait in the waiting room. Then, with only 10 min before our train was to arrive, E suddenly has to go pee. Wait for the train I said, but no, it was a 911, so off we went in search of a German toilet.
I saw the signs and turned the corner and saw these huge pillars declaring they were toilets. I had seen something similar to these on TV in Paris so started pressing it to find the opening, much like a secret door. Daughter started laughing at me, and the more I tried to find the hidden door, the more she laughed. Finally, I looked at her in exasperation and said, 'WHAT?' She pointed down the hall to an entrance that said WC. I glared at her and walked past.
Flustered now, I fished in my purse for change, because you know, in Germany, the toilets are NOT free. Finally found some change, quickly got a ticket, went through the glass doors which slammed shut behind me and turned a corner only to see a man peeing in one of a long line of urinals. I looked over at the wall and saw that the stick figure had two legs. Dawning horror! Oh God! I quickly walked back before Elowyn too ended up in the wrong place. Through the glass I pointed to the woman stick figure a few metres away and Elowyn's eyes grew round in surprise, then the little weasel roared with laughter...AGAIN!
Sigh....I routed in my purse, no more euros. The glass door was closed. Trapped! Our train was coming soon. I made a snap decision and thought gender neutral thoughts and turned back into the men's WC. Incredibly, the man was STILL peeing! I was thinking maybe he had Austin Powers' bladder, but he wasn't facing me so I scurried into an empty stall. The cleaning lady of the WC was humming a tune and occasionally breaking out in song. Happy in her work.
Elowyn was waiting for me with a big smile on her face. Say cheese! Click! She practically skipped up the steps on the escalator dying to tell my sister about my misadventure; the big news as it were.
And yes, I was humiliated once more with Elowyn providing embellishments in a rather loud voice in the waiting room. And for a country of people who don't seem to speak a lick of English when you ask them a question, there were plenty of Germans openly grinning. Yeah....
One small mercy, thankfully, they weren't on my train. Elowyn says that she'll go to the bathroom with me ANYTIME. Finally, I had to laugh. These things always seem to happen to me. I know I will be reliving this as Elowyn will be sure to spread the word, so I'm one upping her and giving it to you straight by writing it myself.
Teens!
Sunday, 20 November 2016
Christmas Markets in Germany
This is it, the reason you come to Germany in winter, and it's not for the weather which is usually grey, damp, and drizzly without much snow or sunlight, (at least in the North Rhine Westfalia Region). And because of this dreary weather, the Germans, and much of Europe, created a fantastic coping mechanism to see them through the next seven weeks or so...the venerable Weihnachts Markt or Christmas Market!
They don't spring it on you all at once, oh no! What's the pleasure and anticipation in that? It starts with city officials stringing all the Christmas lights across your street with big hanging stars, plump cupids or trumpeting angels as the most popular ornament. They don't turn them on yet except maybe to test them, but you start to feel excited about what's to come.
Then comes St. Martin's Day on Nov. 11th which is celebrated in many European countries and is a Catholic holiday in Germany, especially if you live in southern Bavaria. Martin was born in Hungary in 316 and lived in Italy where he became a Roman soldier. He was commissioned to Gaul (France) and he later was baptized and became a monk. He was a friend of children and a patron of the poor and did many kind deeds to people everywhere he went. There is a famous story where he was traveling with two other soldiers and was about to enter a city when he saw a poor beggar who was too weak to call for help and freezing in the cold during a storm. Martin was wearing a long, thick Roman cloak of red and he got down from his horse and using his sword, cut the cloak in half, giving one part to the poor man, thus saving his life. That night, Martin dreamt that the person he had shared his cloak with was Christ, who thanked him for his kindness. This dream convinced Martin to leave the army, get baptized, and become a monk. Eventually, the stories of Martin's compassion spread and church officials wanted to make this lowly monk a bishop. Martin didn't want the position, and legend says that he tried to hide from the throngs of good intentioned church officials by hiding in a goose pen in a barn, but the gaggle of geese gave him away. He did become a bishop in Tours, France and continued to be a patron of the poor and to children in his new role. To this day, people celebrate St. Martin's Day with a feast of goose with all the fixings like red cabbage and dumplings!
It is traditional for children to create paper lanterns in kindergarten or primary class in remembrance of St. Martin. Hundreds, if not thousands of little kids gather in parade like formations with their lanterns accompanied by teachers, volunteers and parents on the night of the 11th.The lanterns are fantastic creative designs. I saw rounded pink pigs (schwein is VERY popular here in Germany), big glowing yellow suns, whimsical jellyfish, big blue whales, bulging frogs, oranges, stars, and many more, each set more stunning than the next group as well as traditional lantern shapes, but with stained glass cut outs of scenes from St. Martin's life or pop art spiral designs which were all hand crafted by the kids. The lanterns are supposed to symbolize the light that holiness brings to the dark comparing the hope and love that St. Martin's good deeds brought to the people.
In the past, these lanterns were lit by little tea candles. Now what could possibly go wrong with kids carrying paper lanterns with lit candles you may ask? Well, picture rambunctious Hans swinging his lantern a little too vigorously and seeing the whole thing going up in flames while people start screaming until some responsible kill joy douses the flames leaving a charred mess on the cobbled street and a crying, wet kid in its wake. Pretty exciting don't you think; part of the appeal, no? And so, battery operated candles were invented just for this parade (wink wink)! And then they created special sticks to hold the batteries with dangling wires with a light at the end to light up the lantern. Yeah, it has definitely become less dramatic than all the accidental burnings in the past.
Luckily, I had seen some pre-made lanterns at the supermarket and bought a couple of them not knowing about St. Martin's Day, but thinking they'd be great for the Winter Solstice Festival of Light in Kensington Market in Toronto on Dec. 21st. When we saw the parade forming outside our front window, I knew what to do and hurriedly assembled the lanterns, lit them up and hurried Steven and Elowyn out the door to join the parade and follow it down to the market square.
The parade in our town opened with a black and white police cruiser that looked suspiciously like an American cruiser. I hurried to catch a glimpse of the make of the car and sure enough, it was an American Ford with California license plates! Very strange! I mean, the first question is why? German police cars look quite quaint in comparison with their diminutive size, friendly white colour and bright neon yellow and orange stripes for high visibility. Quite puzzling to see not one, but two of the American cruisers except the car bringing up the rear of the parade had German license plates!
Right after the cruisers, a white horse ridden by St. Martin led the procession in full medieval looking bishop's garb with lots of gold trimmings wearing a long red cape that draped in flourish over the rear of the horse. He also carried a bishop's crozier and waved to the crowds much like Santa during the Santa Claus Parade in Toronto except instead of 'Ho ho ho', he said, 'Gruß Gott' (God's greeting to you).
Along the parade, all the kids were singing more or less in unison songs that I had heard my father sing to me and my siblings as kids. Songs like 'Laterne Laterne!' I thought of dad singing and how much he would have loved to be here right now. He would have been singing and swinging his lantern too and finally experiencing the childhood that he missed during wartime Germany.
At the town square entrance, the regal white horse suddenly lifted his tail and started taking a massive dump right there on the cobbles without missing a beat and creating a three metre long trail. About 3 classes of kindergarteners with their parents waded right through this steaming trail until some kid shrieked and the procession suddenly stopped while the volunteer officials put on a brave face and quickly stood in front of the 'horse apples' as my dad would call it and directed the procession around it. We were right there at the entrance and watched the whole spectacle with great amusement with the other bystanders and shrieked with laughter and horror when the occasional adult trying to cut through the parade to get a beer on the other side walked right through the stuff with their expensive shoes. Lots of 'scheiße' swearing followed and shoe scraping while parents admonished the swearers to mind their language in front of their wide-eyed lantern holding kids. We left after the parade and went home for our own hot feast of potato soup, crispy buns and wurst while we talked about our great evening and the fact that there would be a lot of smelly shoes to clean that night by disgruntled parents!
Right after St. Martin's Day, things start ramping up in the market square. Suddenly the lion fountain is drained and filled with fresh evergreen trees, then a fence of evergreens is set up around the square and finally, trucks arrive with wooden huts that resemble Bavarian ski chalets, all lined up on the periphery and inside the square in a circle. All the inhabitants inspect these goings on daily and stand around and admire or discuss it, and sometimes a wily senior offers his advice or expertise to the workers on hanging the oversized fat cupid over one of the gateway entrances, or hanging the strings of lights just so. Throughout the week, you can see the whole market getting built until the day when the stalls are filled with Christmas ornaments and baubles, mugs to fill the spiced Glüwein, and racks and griddles for the bratwürst and crispy potato pancakes with apple sauce.
Many markets this year opened the week before Advent which is the case in our town of Ratingen, but most open traditionally the Friday before Advent. German Christmas Markets have their origin way back in 1393 in Frankfürt and even earlier in the beautiful jewel of a city, Dresden. They were originally set up in front of the local cathedral or market square as an encouragement for people to attend Mass every day during Advent and then after Mass to indulge in the market. It was there that craftsmen sold their beautifully crafted wooden and tin ornaments that they had fashioned and for people to mingle and indulge in some mulled wine (introduced first in Köln), to eat local baked specialities like lebkuchen, stöllen, printen, dominoes, spekulatius cookies and much more like pretzels and würst, potato fritters, dumplings and scweinhache.
We of course went to our very first Christmas Market in our town. The most popular hut is also the biggest because it's the place to buy mulled wine. It's packed with people as a meeting place to warm up with Glüwein and have a warm meal. Each market fashions their own mug with the year and pictures of the town or area. Cost is usually €3 for the mug with another €2 or more deposit for the mug. If you bring it back, you get your deposit back, otherwise keep the mug and use it throughout the holiday season and on New Year's Eve. The wine and spice mixture also varies from each market and now includes white or rose wine and also non alcoholic wine for children which Elowyn was really happy about. There is also a creamy yellow egg liquor called Eierlikör or in Dutch, Advocaat which has a custard like flavour with rum. I haven't tried yet, but will in the coming weeks.
Here's the recipe below if you feel like indulging. It can be drunk as is or pored over ice-cream or plain cakes or as a base to flan topped cakes. So yummy!
http://www.texanerin.com/
Anyway, we went straight to the Glüwein area and received our steaming mugs of goodness. Tastes great with the bratwurst and potato fritters that we had too. The trick is start early while it's still daylight and to wander from stall to stall before it gets too busy, stop and eat something which in our case is usually bratwurst or schnitzel on a bun,, roam some more and watch crafts people at work carving wooden ornaments, drink more Glüwein, take a Ferris wheel ride to see your city up high in lights, wander some more, buy interesting ornaments, eat some yummy roasted chestnuts or Gebrannte mandeln (sugar-coated toasted almonds flavoured with cinnamon and vanilla), listen to live music, take a bunch of photos of everything, drink your last Glüwein and keep the mug, then call it a night before it starts to get horrendously busy by 8 pm. Go home, put up your feet, snuggle up in a blanket and watch a movie while drinking hot tea.
Yesterday we went by train to Düsseldorf which boasts seven different markets each with their own theme and items they sell as well as different Glüwein. And each market has it's own unique mug for you to use and take home with you. The best one was a snowman mug. It was there where we went on the enormous Ferris wheel and got to warm up in the heated pods while going four times around and seeing the city in its lighted glory overlooking the Rhine River. By the time we left around 8pm, it was hard to move through the shoulder to shoulder crowds as night time is the most popular time to go to see the lights and meet up with friends after a busy work day.
Here's a website devoted to some of the more famous Christmas Markets in Germany to give you a sense as to what they're all about. It is magical here at Christmas time and the markets really do help you get through the short, dark days. Luckily, Toronto is opening its second Christmas Market at City Hall this year. Check it out, along with the Distillery District to enjoy your own Glüwein and German delicasies!
http://travelaway.me/best-
Tomorrow, we travel to Paris for eight days to explore the city of light and to also indulge in the unique Parisian Christmas Markets.
They don't spring it on you all at once, oh no! What's the pleasure and anticipation in that? It starts with city officials stringing all the Christmas lights across your street with big hanging stars, plump cupids or trumpeting angels as the most popular ornament. They don't turn them on yet except maybe to test them, but you start to feel excited about what's to come.
Then comes St. Martin's Day on Nov. 11th which is celebrated in many European countries and is a Catholic holiday in Germany, especially if you live in southern Bavaria. Martin was born in Hungary in 316 and lived in Italy where he became a Roman soldier. He was commissioned to Gaul (France) and he later was baptized and became a monk. He was a friend of children and a patron of the poor and did many kind deeds to people everywhere he went. There is a famous story where he was traveling with two other soldiers and was about to enter a city when he saw a poor beggar who was too weak to call for help and freezing in the cold during a storm. Martin was wearing a long, thick Roman cloak of red and he got down from his horse and using his sword, cut the cloak in half, giving one part to the poor man, thus saving his life. That night, Martin dreamt that the person he had shared his cloak with was Christ, who thanked him for his kindness. This dream convinced Martin to leave the army, get baptized, and become a monk. Eventually, the stories of Martin's compassion spread and church officials wanted to make this lowly monk a bishop. Martin didn't want the position, and legend says that he tried to hide from the throngs of good intentioned church officials by hiding in a goose pen in a barn, but the gaggle of geese gave him away. He did become a bishop in Tours, France and continued to be a patron of the poor and to children in his new role. To this day, people celebrate St. Martin's Day with a feast of goose with all the fixings like red cabbage and dumplings!
It is traditional for children to create paper lanterns in kindergarten or primary class in remembrance of St. Martin. Hundreds, if not thousands of little kids gather in parade like formations with their lanterns accompanied by teachers, volunteers and parents on the night of the 11th.The lanterns are fantastic creative designs. I saw rounded pink pigs (schwein is VERY popular here in Germany), big glowing yellow suns, whimsical jellyfish, big blue whales, bulging frogs, oranges, stars, and many more, each set more stunning than the next group as well as traditional lantern shapes, but with stained glass cut outs of scenes from St. Martin's life or pop art spiral designs which were all hand crafted by the kids. The lanterns are supposed to symbolize the light that holiness brings to the dark comparing the hope and love that St. Martin's good deeds brought to the people.
In the past, these lanterns were lit by little tea candles. Now what could possibly go wrong with kids carrying paper lanterns with lit candles you may ask? Well, picture rambunctious Hans swinging his lantern a little too vigorously and seeing the whole thing going up in flames while people start screaming until some responsible kill joy douses the flames leaving a charred mess on the cobbled street and a crying, wet kid in its wake. Pretty exciting don't you think; part of the appeal, no? And so, battery operated candles were invented just for this parade (wink wink)! And then they created special sticks to hold the batteries with dangling wires with a light at the end to light up the lantern. Yeah, it has definitely become less dramatic than all the accidental burnings in the past.
Luckily, I had seen some pre-made lanterns at the supermarket and bought a couple of them not knowing about St. Martin's Day, but thinking they'd be great for the Winter Solstice Festival of Light in Kensington Market in Toronto on Dec. 21st. When we saw the parade forming outside our front window, I knew what to do and hurriedly assembled the lanterns, lit them up and hurried Steven and Elowyn out the door to join the parade and follow it down to the market square.
The parade in our town opened with a black and white police cruiser that looked suspiciously like an American cruiser. I hurried to catch a glimpse of the make of the car and sure enough, it was an American Ford with California license plates! Very strange! I mean, the first question is why? German police cars look quite quaint in comparison with their diminutive size, friendly white colour and bright neon yellow and orange stripes for high visibility. Quite puzzling to see not one, but two of the American cruisers except the car bringing up the rear of the parade had German license plates!
Right after the cruisers, a white horse ridden by St. Martin led the procession in full medieval looking bishop's garb with lots of gold trimmings wearing a long red cape that draped in flourish over the rear of the horse. He also carried a bishop's crozier and waved to the crowds much like Santa during the Santa Claus Parade in Toronto except instead of 'Ho ho ho', he said, 'Gruß Gott' (God's greeting to you).
Along the parade, all the kids were singing more or less in unison songs that I had heard my father sing to me and my siblings as kids. Songs like 'Laterne Laterne!' I thought of dad singing and how much he would have loved to be here right now. He would have been singing and swinging his lantern too and finally experiencing the childhood that he missed during wartime Germany.
At the town square entrance, the regal white horse suddenly lifted his tail and started taking a massive dump right there on the cobbles without missing a beat and creating a three metre long trail. About 3 classes of kindergarteners with their parents waded right through this steaming trail until some kid shrieked and the procession suddenly stopped while the volunteer officials put on a brave face and quickly stood in front of the 'horse apples' as my dad would call it and directed the procession around it. We were right there at the entrance and watched the whole spectacle with great amusement with the other bystanders and shrieked with laughter and horror when the occasional adult trying to cut through the parade to get a beer on the other side walked right through the stuff with their expensive shoes. Lots of 'scheiße' swearing followed and shoe scraping while parents admonished the swearers to mind their language in front of their wide-eyed lantern holding kids. We left after the parade and went home for our own hot feast of potato soup, crispy buns and wurst while we talked about our great evening and the fact that there would be a lot of smelly shoes to clean that night by disgruntled parents!
Right after St. Martin's Day, things start ramping up in the market square. Suddenly the lion fountain is drained and filled with fresh evergreen trees, then a fence of evergreens is set up around the square and finally, trucks arrive with wooden huts that resemble Bavarian ski chalets, all lined up on the periphery and inside the square in a circle. All the inhabitants inspect these goings on daily and stand around and admire or discuss it, and sometimes a wily senior offers his advice or expertise to the workers on hanging the oversized fat cupid over one of the gateway entrances, or hanging the strings of lights just so. Throughout the week, you can see the whole market getting built until the day when the stalls are filled with Christmas ornaments and baubles, mugs to fill the spiced Glüwein, and racks and griddles for the bratwürst and crispy potato pancakes with apple sauce.
Many markets this year opened the week before Advent which is the case in our town of Ratingen, but most open traditionally the Friday before Advent. German Christmas Markets have their origin way back in 1393 in Frankfürt and even earlier in the beautiful jewel of a city, Dresden. They were originally set up in front of the local cathedral or market square as an encouragement for people to attend Mass every day during Advent and then after Mass to indulge in the market. It was there that craftsmen sold their beautifully crafted wooden and tin ornaments that they had fashioned and for people to mingle and indulge in some mulled wine (introduced first in Köln), to eat local baked specialities like lebkuchen, stöllen, printen, dominoes, spekulatius cookies and much more like pretzels and würst, potato fritters, dumplings and scweinhache.
We of course went to our very first Christmas Market in our town. The most popular hut is also the biggest because it's the place to buy mulled wine. It's packed with people as a meeting place to warm up with Glüwein and have a warm meal. Each market fashions their own mug with the year and pictures of the town or area. Cost is usually €3 for the mug with another €2 or more deposit for the mug. If you bring it back, you get your deposit back, otherwise keep the mug and use it throughout the holiday season and on New Year's Eve. The wine and spice mixture also varies from each market and now includes white or rose wine and also non alcoholic wine for children which Elowyn was really happy about. There is also a creamy yellow egg liquor called Eierlikör or in Dutch, Advocaat which has a custard like flavour with rum. I haven't tried yet, but will in the coming weeks.
Here's the recipe below if you feel like indulging. It can be drunk as is or pored over ice-cream or plain cakes or as a base to flan topped cakes. So yummy!
http://www.texanerin.com/
Anyway, we went straight to the Glüwein area and received our steaming mugs of goodness. Tastes great with the bratwurst and potato fritters that we had too. The trick is start early while it's still daylight and to wander from stall to stall before it gets too busy, stop and eat something which in our case is usually bratwurst or schnitzel on a bun,, roam some more and watch crafts people at work carving wooden ornaments, drink more Glüwein, take a Ferris wheel ride to see your city up high in lights, wander some more, buy interesting ornaments, eat some yummy roasted chestnuts or Gebrannte mandeln (sugar-coated toasted almonds flavoured with cinnamon and vanilla), listen to live music, take a bunch of photos of everything, drink your last Glüwein and keep the mug, then call it a night before it starts to get horrendously busy by 8 pm. Go home, put up your feet, snuggle up in a blanket and watch a movie while drinking hot tea.
Yesterday we went by train to Düsseldorf which boasts seven different markets each with their own theme and items they sell as well as different Glüwein. And each market has it's own unique mug for you to use and take home with you. The best one was a snowman mug. It was there where we went on the enormous Ferris wheel and got to warm up in the heated pods while going four times around and seeing the city in its lighted glory overlooking the Rhine River. By the time we left around 8pm, it was hard to move through the shoulder to shoulder crowds as night time is the most popular time to go to see the lights and meet up with friends after a busy work day.
Here's a website devoted to some of the more famous Christmas Markets in Germany to give you a sense as to what they're all about. It is magical here at Christmas time and the markets really do help you get through the short, dark days. Luckily, Toronto is opening its second Christmas Market at City Hall this year. Check it out, along with the Distillery District to enjoy your own Glüwein and German delicasies!
http://travelaway.me/best-
Tomorrow, we travel to Paris for eight days to explore the city of light and to also indulge in the unique Parisian Christmas Markets.
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