Homeward Bound

We return today, joining the Hurry and Wait crowd, shooting though a flying metal tunnel, back to Seattle. On the right, is a picture of Annika's loving family. From left to right in back is Johnathan, Hans-Walter, Carola, Tabea. On the bottom is Annika, and Deborah.

For a fun song that is all the rage in the Schellenburg family, visit this link to hear Mika singing Grace Kelly: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mC9UzFhNlbA

Auf Wiedersehen from Bob and Gayle

At Annika's Home

We’ve been at home at Annika’s home in Haiger, Germany for the last few days. This small town is about 1 hour north by northwest of Frankfurt. Annika hasn’t changed, she is still the carefree, fun, and full of life precocious young lady we all knew and loved in Sequim. Her family really makes you understand where this comes from. Carola her mother is the loving and universally motherly woman who is the hub of the family, while her father Hans Walter is the rim, reflecting the love between the two via the spokes of Annika and her sisters and brother, Tabea, Deborah, and Jonathan.

One morning I saw a small note on the table that on quick glance was in English. I figured I should read it since it might say something like, “Dear Bob and Gayle, we’ve all gone out to have some fun today, see you later!” Instead it was a note which read, “Darling, I hope you had good sleeps…. (then a bunch of German). Love Deborah”. The message was to her mother telling her about some plans she had for the day.

We don’t see Han’s as much as Carola as he works into the evening at the hospital this week. He is an emergency room nurse. One morning, Hans, Annika, Ben (dog) and Gayle and I, have gone out on long walks in the woods and meadows that surround Haiger. I don’t believe five minutes will pass, before Hans laughs and with his dark swarthy skin, piercing blue eyes, and shiny white teeth, laughs about this or that.

Ben the dog is a devoted member of the Schellenburg family devoted especially to Hans. When Hans had to leave early for a physical, Ben sat on the steps and watched the door, puzzled that he had left without taking him for a walk. Ben to me looks more like a thin happy-go-lucky black bear than a dog.

Yesterday, we went to Cologne to see the massive cathedral, largest in Germany and possibly in Europe, which for the most part was built with 100 workers at a time and took 600 years to complete. Until 1880 it was the tallest structure in the world finally surpassed by the Eiffel Tower and the Washington Monument.

Earlier, Deborah and Annika were having a conversation about churches. Deborah stated that Catholic and Protestant churches are all the same and it’s difficult to tell the differences. Annika winced, gave her that sidelong glanced, and said loudly with her accent, “Heeelllloooo” and something to the fact that they are very different. Annika told Deborah you can always tell because Catholic churches have a chicken on top of the church. When we saw the Cathedral I asked Annika where the chicken was. She said you can’t see it from this angle and I said that

kind of shoots down your chicken church identification theory. “Noooo, you can’t see the very top!” she adamantly explained. I laughed. Annika’s enthusiastic, from the gut directness always makes me laugh.

Later that day we visited the Wallraf-Richartz Museum. It is currently displaying a fascinating exhibit of Impressionistic art. In addition to pieces from Monet, Renoir, Manet, Pissarro, Van Gogh and many others, it shows you the science, technique and history behind the artistic styles. Gayle exclaimed that it is the finest Impressionism exhibit she has ever seen outside of the Orsay in Paris. Here’s a link to the website that is under construction showing the research from this exhibit, it’s worth bookmarking and looking at: http://www.museenkoeln.de/impressionismus/

We returned home via the autoban with Tabea showing us just how fast a Peugeot can really go!

Recently I am trying to cope with a lingering funk. Perhaps it’s easier to travel as pure tourists,
see the sights, make little or no real connections, and make little or no impression. When the trip is over, it’s simply over. Nonetheless, I know that I will forever treasure these moments with Werner and Sieglinde, Annika and her family, Pam and Ben, Laurie and Jim, and of course Linda Lyonova. Still I know that more than likely I will never see many of them again. We can talk, we can write, but the real work is to keep them all alive in our hearts. So I guess when you travel this way, the trip never really ends :))

Timing is Everything

Due to the risk of rain, Seglinde, Gayle and I, decided on a impromptu visit to Nuremberg to visit one church we missed the last time and to go shopping. As soon as we started wandering about the city we ran into a French Day Market. There were crepes, glistening olives, giant wheels of cheese, and of course table clothes. Gayle was delighted to purchase another for our table.

Then we ambled over to the church St Lorenz whose construction spanned 200 years starting in 1270. There is a linden carved annunciation scene hanging from the roof that looks like a Bavarian Christmas ornament. Also there is a stone pillar that was extensively carved with Biblical scenes cascading down the column. Near the bottom, the sculptor kneels holding up the work on his shoulder, tools at the ready to added the finishing touches. As we were getting ready to leave they announced that a wedding would be starting in the next few minutes and to either leave or sit and watch the show.

We decide to stay and soak in the thundering organ wedding music, Gayle and Sieglinde “ohhing” and “awwing” over the tiny bride and tall groom. At the altar, small child like chairs were provided for the couple as they listened to the serious words from the priest. Then the groom a member of a famous Bach choir, sang a wonderful song, his bride spanning the gap between child chairs to comfort him as he sung about his true love.

We snuck out of the wedding and immediately ran into a football rally between the Nuremberg and the Dusseldorf teams. Grunts, wild accusations, and drum beating all lubricated with beer, came from all corners of the central square. We all decided that we must surely leave before the game got ended as our town seemed destined to lose and the confrontations would get beery, beery, bad before the night was over.

We sat for a quick bratwurst that came in pewter plates shaped like a bell. The brats heaped with sweet and sour kraut that is so good here. Half way through our meal the heavens unleashed a might shower or rain, raining so hard that the rain drops leaped back off the cobblestones 10” or more. Meal finished and rain done for the day, we wandered on.

We decided to go an see a IMAX 3D movie about whales and dolphins. On our way over we ran into throngs of people lining the street. "Wow a parade or football pre-game show" we figured. As we snuck to the front, we heard cars coming, and who was there, the Dali Lama, waving to us from his sedan. I am fairly certain his lips said, “Oh my there is Bob and Gayle from Sequim”.

The IMAX 3D was awesome and I recommend doing it. The whales, dolphins, and tiny fish surrounded us, beckoning to be touched. Peering down into a sperm whales eye from 6” away was beyond description.

We wandered around a bit more after the movie and ran into the “Spargel Day’s” (Asparagus Day) complete with Spargel Queen and peeling contest. Standing 6 people deep, we were amazed at how fast one could cut and peel the monster white spargels.

After visiting a few stores, we made our way back just as the soccer ball was put into play in the big game. The walkways were safe from screaming fans, our timing was once again perfect.

A Walk In The Woods, Franconian Style

Feeding the town of Nuremberg is the Pegnitz (sounds like Pig Nits) river hills and valleys. The steep river valleys are a mixture of dense greenery, worn basalt rock formations, and dark dank caves. Werner was kind enough to drive us to the top of a lovely walk though the hilltops and fields full of yellow plants whose destiny is to become canola oil, endless rows of oats, and woods so dense our heads were covered in thatch.

The Franconian Alps must be a hard place to live in the winter. What wasn’t planted for crops was carefully harvested for firewood. We even saw rows over 100 yards long of logs stacked 40 inches wide, 10 feet high, and covered with various kinds of roofing material. At one point, we stopped in front of what looked like a national forest type sign describing the terrain and rules of the park including which flowers are verboten to pick. Surrounding the signs on all sides were rows upon rows of firewood. Don’t pick the wild flowers but please harvest the wood.

At the bottom of the trail was a crystal clear creek, dotted with toy waterwheels and small cottages. Werner drove the car down to meet us, carefully provisioned with food, drink, and a welcome picnic table beside the creek. Next to the table was a series of arm rests protruding out of and in the creek. Werner explained that this was for people to soak their feet by carefully walking in the creek after they hike. After you have frozen your feet in the alpine waters, above the picnic table on the sloping hillside was a manmade pool of water with a bench sticking out of the center. Water is slowly pumped into the pool, warmed a bit by solar, all this in an effort to start a slow foot thaw.

On our walk out of the narrow valley we witnessed homes and barns built into overhanging rock ledges. The rock faces above, literally drooping over the roofs, seemingly using the buildings for support. The drive home was uneventful except for a stop at a town that has a famous church, a quick stop for those on pilgrimages. There was a relic at the church encased in glass with Mary, but I never did figure out what the relic was. I suppose it was only a one star relic. The plaster work and colors were a delight rather like a combination of Donald Trump and Martha Stewart design. Oddly, the town is just filled with gem, mineral, fossil, and jewelry schmucks. There must be more going on in those caves than I thought.

Dinner was another hit. One meat course is Ursula’s favorite dish when she visits. I’ve put a copy on the slideshow for her in particular. (Ursula, are you out there in cyber space?)

Reflections

We had a quiet time enjoying garden while Werner and Sieglinda completed some forms for the sale of their old car. They are waiting until this weekend to sign the papers on the new car. They are going to buy a Toyota Auris (replacement for the Corolla here in Europe) from a local Toyota dealership. Unfortunately the dealership owner and son are out of town and so they cannot sell any cars until he comes back to sign the papers. The dealership believes that the son will return this Saturday and can sign the papers. Once the papers are signed, Werner must wait until Monday or Tuesday for the car to be prepared. Can you imagine waiting for a stock car from a dealership for ½ a week.

We had some long philosophical discussions. Werner, as Pavel in the Czech Republic, told me that in general Europe wants anyone but John McCain to win. Here they are fearful that he will continue the war and some of the aggressive policies of George Bush. He also is resigned to the opinion that John McCain will win as the Democratic Party is spending all its energy beating itself up.

I asked him about whether the salary difference between CEO’s to entry level workers in Germany are getting farther and farther apart like in the US. Werner is a retired CFO and Head of Personnel for two large toy manufacturers. He said that this is a real problem in Germany. The rich keep getting richer and the poor, poorer. He said that perhaps someday we will have ghettos not for the poor but for the rich. These new ghettos will have schools, hospitals, shopping, and all the wealthy necessities of life, sealed away from the struggles of the poor a renaissance of medieval times, the aristocracy and the peasants.

Later he told me about a good book he finished recently called, “Never Let Me Go” by Kazuo Ishiguro. It’s a fiction book about some future time when there are only three classes of people. There is the rich and powerful and there is the working poor. From the ranks of the poor, young beautiful children are chosen for a special role in society. They are treated by the rich as adoring pets. Good schools, athletics, the best food are lavished on them. Besides being Toys to be played with, these special few are used as living organ donors, giving up kidneys, livers, arms or whatever the powerful need, a living gene pool. So as not to be unkind, the Pet’s have no more than 3 items taken from their bodies before they are lovingly laid to rest.


We have had many enjoyable moments letting Werner practice his English with us. He was reading us a very funny editorial his English teacher gave him. The humorous words and his over emphasis of the 'TH' sound that is missing in German made side busting laughs.

Surfing in Munich

(Second of two new blogs)

What do you think an Ice Bear is? In the south of Germany, the excitement over the baby “Ice Bear” or polar bear at the local zoo is only surpassed by football (soccer). We see signs at all the transportation centers asking us to come see the ice bear. For some reason, I find it so cute to call polar bears, ice bears.

We spent a very long day in Munich today. Apparently there is a special “Bayern”(Bavarian) rate if you catch a train after 9 am and leave after 7 pm. As many as 5 people can go for one price of a mere 36 euros. Sieglinde, as always, took very good care of us as we snacked the two hours moving away from Franconia to Bavaria. There is a big difference between the two areas. Ask any Nuremberger and he will inform you why one is lucky to be Franconian and I know from our visit to Cesky Krumlov that Bavarians have their own list.

I could spin many a sentence describing ornate buildings, the Glockenspiel (musical clock in a tower), churches dripping in ornate finery, and a dazzling market that rivals the best of Provence for vegetables. Instead I will spend some time discussing the “Bier Gartens” and the town park which alone is larger than Sequim.

Around lunch, parched from cobblestones that radiated heat like cinderblocks, we stopped at the Hoffbrau House or “HB”. The main room has an arching ceiling, tattooed with murals depicting gluttony and pretty much drinking oneself silly. When you visit the men’s toilet you are surrounded by two rooms with urinals on three sides of the walls. Then just inside the door on your right is a vomit friendly sink all in stainless and extra deep with splash guards. A comforting thought as I nuzzled my cold brew. As we were leaving, Werner pointed out that the old wooden tables are covered people’s names. “Look most of the names are American!” he said. Alright, Dave, Cindy, Karen, Tom, … etc, you should be ashamed of yourselves.

Near the end of the day, we let Werner rest his sore ankle, and Gayle, Sieglinde, and I wandered around the English Gardens. They are only English because an English designer was used. There certainly is nothing formal or refined about them. The park is the largest city park in the world, far larger than New York’s “Central Park”. There is a bewildering maze of trails and waterways. The water coursing through the park comes directly from the Alps, runs under the city, and is bone chillingly cold as it erupts in torrents in several locations. At one such location, surfers line the shore, taking turns, plunging into the maelstrom, moving from zero to what seems to be 30 mph. When they fall, the stream grabs them and sends them downstream into the bushy shoreline.

If you keep walking, there is a stone pavilion on a hill where the king would ride out and meet his mistress for some body surfing and a royal massage. Later you come to a Japanese pavilion which today had an Umpa Band from the Urkraine and a lovely beer garden across the way. I knew we were close to a beer garden as many people were carrying steins of beer to their picnic spots. They pay a healthy deposit to return the steins to their rightful owners.

Moving gradually back our pedometer striking 12,000 steps, I gazed upon acres of sunbathing and frolicking Germans. The same view we witnessed for the last 2,000 steps except the men were not wearing any clothes. I ask Sieglinde about this and she said that this was acceptable in this place. We found Werner in a garden café sitting beside two women with strollered babies, drinking a glass of green tea and reading a good book. We finished the day with nearly 16,000 steps, a mystery and a bounty in each step.

Rothenburg - Germany's Romantic Road

Germany’s Romantic Road is a small collection of towns unconnected by trains or large highways and was for years forgotten. Even WWII bypassed these towns. One of the small towns is called Rothenburg. This weekend they were celebrating the day when the mayor drank a huge tankard of beer in one slug which saved the town from being plundered. This is the 800th year that this festival has been going on, so Washington Irrigation Festival, eat your heart out.

The whole community gathers each year to re-enact the lifestyle and of medieval times. Men were being dragged down the streets for having extra marital sex. We saw children and adults in stocks, loose camp woman resting lewdly outside of tents. Braces of young men guarding the streets with swords and pikes. Drummers, trumpets, and fifes, roused our spirits. There must have been a terrible fight with another town over access to tourist plunder, as some of the men had bandages and bloody head wounds.

Announcements were made by the constable and other petty officials, roasting chunks of meat were being cooked by primitive spits or hung from tripods of steel, muskets were leaning against walls with real dead pigeons hanging from the barrel, and all manner of tradesmen turned a tidy profit making tools, coins, and leather crafts. Soldiers on horses kept order in the street although the disorderly had either passed out or were tied to trees. Most of the men had tankards fitted to their belts and were constantly refreshed by some unknown brew. At one point Gayle was taking a picture of several men resting in an alcove separated from the main passageway by a metal grating. One of the men spied my buxomly bride and raced towards her, howling with frustration because of the bars separating them. Gayle screamed and left the passage howling with fright and laughter.

And yet, as bawdy as the town, as rough and ready, nothing so strikes fear in ones heart as returning to Nuremberg via the autoban. Werner blasted down the slow lane at 130-140 kilometer per hour while cars literally screamed past us topping 200 km. At one point we need to pass a truck going a mere 110 km and Werner slid into the fast lane, pegged the accelerator. I felt we should cut the AC and lean forward like a ski jumper, urging our car ahead before we were flattened from behind by a mere Peugeot. Tomorrow Werner and Sieglinda are going to look for a new car, this one is just too slow!