Sächsische...Silly!

19. Mai 2011

On occasion I have been known to be silly. Silly mixed with a healthy dose of the comic events that seem to saunter along in my wake. Combined with the fact that I'm super busy and a little stressed at the moment, a good friend of mine, my salsa buddy from university (and current penpal), T, is coming to visit me in Germany this week, and I'm so excited I'm practically spinning. All this crazy energy has certainly made for an interesting past week or so.


I shouldn't be allowed a bike.

 It all started two weekends ago when the inevitable happened. I finally fell off my bike. I can't really explain it any other way than by saying this: I have no fear. And on my bike, if you know me at all, you know that I SHOULD have fear. But apparently not. Here is the inner monologue I had with myself in the five or so seconds prior to crashing:

"Gee, look at that car parked half way in the bike lane. It's pretty narrow. Can I fit there? Sure, why not? Well, maybe not, but I could take that curb, right? Um, bad call. AHHHHHHHHHH!"

In my attempt not to look stupid by having to do the awkward hop-run off my bike, I effectively willing rode into a seven inch curb, resulting in a stunning display of my side-hopping abilibes as my bike rebounded off the curb into me before I took it over with me into the rock bed surrounding a tree. Fantastic. I landed on my hands, knees ricochetting painfully off bike bars. Somehow my knees and my dignity were the only parts that came out bruised. I guess I wasn't going that fast. In what world did hitting a curb seem like a good idea? No fear, I tell you.

Come to think of it, this isn't the only recent bike disaster of mine. A week or so prior to the curb incident, I inadvertently let all the air out of my tire when I was trying to pump it up five mintues before I needed to head to Wernigerode. It came rushing out at record speed, which I wasn't expecting, and I really wondered how it could be so hard to pump up a bike tire. Granted I did end up having a flat, so I wasn't totally to blame, but it still added insult to incompetency. It turned out to be lucky that I went forth sans bike because, aside from the fact that my tire probably would've died on my trip, my train to Dessau was so late that I had to run two flights of stairs to change platforms, which I never could've managed while lugging my bike.



Hiking in the Sächsische Schweiz
The Bastei

 Last weekend was spent with a fellow ETA, Emily, in Leipzig because we wanted to visit the Saechsische Schweiz for a hike. We got out at Kurort Rathen and took the ferry over the river to climb the hundreds of stairs up to the Bastei. The view was magnificent over the blue-skied, fertile valley and the fresh air and enticingly eerie magic specific to German forests gave me the getaway I'd been craving. ä



You can probs see the Czech Rep.
from here



To get back to my main point, though, my mind works in mysterious

ways, linking from one thing to the next at the speed of light, and in part because she thinks this way as well, Emily and I are epic conversationalists. When she and I get together or talk on the phone, you can guarantee that no work will actually get done as we bounce from topic to topic, with each one increasing the nerdiness quotient of the conversation, the longer we talk. Usually we subject bounce



Literally right out of
Caspar David Friedrich



simultaneously, but it has been proven that we are NOT indeed telepathic. In a rare silent moment as we descended scores of metal squares on the Schwedenloecher (Swedish holes) Trail, my energetic frenzy helped me take about ten gigantic mental steps away from the previous conversation we'd had before saying, "There are a lot of German verbs that start with 'e'," in a quippy yet contemplative tone. Emily just laughed. I would've too, honestly.

The night of the Castle season finale was not better...it was perhaps the so-called icing on the cake, in fact. The particularly wrenching finish to the third season did not help make me any calmer, and post-Castle that evening I was pouring my energy into my favorite new activity: travel enabling. I got on g-chat to enable Emily.

Me: We have to go through Leipzig on the way to Weimar. You should come with T and me.

E: Well, I'd like to, but I have to see about money.

Me: We all go on a Sachsen-Anhalt Ticket, then it's 10 Euros each.

E: Oh, well I should be able to handle 10 Euros.

We proceeded through a variety of tangents before landing on the topic of if getting to Croatia in July is feasible. WE were discussing potentially flying with EasyJet from Hamburg.

Me: I'm trying to figure out where they fly...It looks like they fly to Zagreb from Hamburg on EasyJet.

E: but we'd have to get to hamburg

Me: Querdurch ticket.

Emily: ah, right. i feel like that's just your comeback now

Me: :)

E: i could make a "your mom" joke and you would find a logical way to say "querdurch ticket."
 
At least my energy's being put to good use. And that brings me to today, Monday, where I am sitting antsily in school, waiting for the moment when I can throw the 80s tunes on now my Ipod and suppress the urge to dance down the street (I should be banned from the 80s when I'm excited...they don't do anything to help that situation!), so I can get home to pack a bag and then hop on a train to the Berlin airport, where at 21:30 this evening, if all goes as planned, I can start putting all my frenetic energy into being a good hostess!!

Deine,
N*

American Cooking 101

3. Mai 2011

My “Russian” friends plus Elise, Lara’s good friend and one of the 11th graders I know from the dance group at school and the ski trip joined me for dinner and English movie night. In true N* fashion, I planned far too many things to do and through a well-honed combination of over-procrastination and under-estimation, my apartment was clean, but the cooking portion of the evening was left egregiously lacking in doneness by the time Lara, Ben and Elise arrived. In fact, of the three things to be made, none were finished. The doorbell rang just as I poured the quark layer over top of the chocolate dough for the Russische Zupfkuche (literally: Russian pluck cake) I was baking.

“Dinner’s not ready, but I’m baking a cake,” I told my friends as we walked up the stairs. They “ah’d” appreciatively at the prospect of cake and appeared to be more concerned with the art in the stairwell than with the fact that it was 6:30 P.M., and they had a delinquent cook on their hands. Granted the art in the stairwell is quite…startling (It’s not mine, lol!), but more on that at a later date.

Once in my apartment, they politely offered to help, and as much cutting was required, everyone had plenty to do while I finished making the remaining cake batter into flat, pulled-off pieces over the top of the cake. Much like me at that age, my students don’t have so much experience in the kitchen, but they are fast learners. The kitchen was a friendly bustle of chatter in English and German.

“What can I do next?” Elise asked, as I pulled a bunch of green onions from the fridge.

“Green onions,” I replied.

“What?”

“Um…these…I can’t remember the word in German.”

“Das ist doch Lauch, wahr?” interjected Ben. (That’s green onions, right?)

“Was ist dann Schnittlauch?“ said Elise. (What’s chives then?)

“Wann es geschnitten ist,“ replied Ben (When it’s cut.)  (I love this story...and included it because when I was looking through a German cookbook I was given as a birthday present, I thought the same thing at first!)

“Nee, stimmt gar nicht. Der ist dünner,“ Lara cut in. (That’s not true. Chives are thinner.)

“Ach sooooo, das stimmt,“ conceded Ben. (Ohhhhh, that’s right.)

“You mean chives?” I guessed.

“Was denn? Chi…was?” Three puzzled faces looked over at me.

“They’re skinny and green.”

“What means skinny in English?” was the next question.

“Thin. Not fat,” I suggested.

“Ach so,” said Lara, who promptly got her list and made a quick note. Being me, I happened to have a bag of dried chives in the cupboard.

“These things?” I inquired.

“Yes,” said answered Elise decisively, as she held onto one end of the bunch of green onions, “but which part of the Lauch do we eat?”

After successfully identifying and cutting up the Lauch (and the three of them crying from a combination of hysterical laughter and green onion fumes – who knew they could be potent enough to draw tears?), we were ready to make salad dressing and mix the seasoning for the oven fries. This was an experience in itself because none of them had ever seen American measuring cups and spoons.

Finally the cake came out of the oven, smelling of cocoa, the fries were put in to bake in its place, and the four of us crowded around my laptop with plates of tortellini salad to watch “Singing in the Rain” in English. I have seen the movie enough times that I can practically quote it, and it was even more fun than usual to be able to watch my companion’s reactions. “…but you have to talk into the mike first. In the bush!” and the song, “Moses Supposes,” were particular favorites.

The perfect cake

The fries were also a hit, as was the cake with its perfectly creamy quark sinking delectably into the moist chocolate layer which had a slightly crunchy crust – something that I find to be the pinnacle of cakey perfection. Surprisingly, the three different dishes, not normally served together mad ea satisfying trifecta. Lara even made the tortellini salad again with her family.

I only hope that Lara, Ben and Elise had as much fun as I did and that they didn’t mind the cooking lesson. I so much prefer cooking with people, and there’s something magical about sharing a meal that connects us to each other in a different, but just as vital way as our verbal interactions.

Deine,
N*

P.S.  My German friends are FANTASTIC!

Russian in Germany

19. März 2011

Over the past few months, I have been trying to learn Russian (with varying degrees of diligence). I sit in a 9th grade class a couple times a week, meet with a Russian teacher and a GT student after school and meet with two Russian students for Russian-English conversation hour on Fridays. Despite this, I often find it difficult to stay motivated without actually having a consistent class at my level. Not to mention that I’m learning in German. Oy. I have made a decent amount of progress, though, and it’s fun. I love the way the language sounds, although my pronunciation is terrible. At least the grammar makes sense to me.



Check it out!



I anticipated that my learning curve might be steeper than with previous languages I’ve learned because first I

had to learn to read and write Cyrillic (and of course, cursive and print are fairly different, just to make it more confusing), so I’ll just keep trying. If nothing else, I can speak (very) simply and I learned to read and write, which is an accomplishment in itself! Also, I find myself being able to pick the limited words I know out of conversations in Slavic languages while I’m traveling…cool!

What I really want to talk about here, though, are the relationships that I’ve gained in my attempted to learn Russian in Germany.

First, there’s my Russian teacher, Frau Doktor T (Don’t you love the German titles?). She has so much passion for the Russian language, and I actually thought she was Russian for a while. It turns out her Mom did a Russian radio show during DDR times, so she grew up with the language. She’s been really helpful in the learning process and is now a friend in the teacher room. There are around 100 teachers at my school, and I really only have a relationship with a few because people are in and out so much, so making a new friend was definitely positive. Plus, she’s really full of life and fascinating to talk to. We speak German together, and she tries out the English phrases she knows sometimes, too.

I’ve also gotten to know “der kleine Kostya,” the GT student learning Russian. I actually knew him from my time at T’s (my former host mom) school during my previous visits to Germany, so it’s funny we’ve been brought together again. He’s very shy, but lately we walk together to the train station after Russian lessons, as he goes that way to walk home. He talks and I talk – mostly in German – and it’s interesting to hear what he has to say. Sometimes you can tell that there’s so much going on in his head at once that he can’t express it all quickly enough. You can almost see wheels spinning and gears whirring – adorable. His Mom has even said that he can’t read before bed because he starts thinking about so many things that it’s impossible for him to sleep afterwards.

Perhaps some of my favorite people are my Russian-English speaking partners, Lara and Ben. They’re 9th graders, but in the U.S. you’d never believe it because they’re so smart and mature. Lara always comes to our sessions armed with a notebook to write down any words we talk about that she doesn’t know. Smart really since she and Ben are two of the 16 students from our school who will participate in the month-long exchange program in Texas this fall. Since I know them primarily from outside the classroom setting (Lara is also in the dance group I teach in at school), I’ve really gotten to know them on a much more personal level, and I think we’ve all been able to benefit from the exchange. They’ve taught me about a myriad of things in Germany from Bleigießen (lead figures that are melted over a candle on a spoon and then dropped into cold water before their shape is “read” to show what is the come in the new year) to how to tell someone their zipper is unzipped in German (valuable information, I tell you…if someone tells me that, I need to know!) to everything under the sun about the German school system to when you should (and shouldn’t) ring your bike bell. Not to mention that they’ve helped me feel truly integrated in both the school and the culture. I only hope that I’ve been able to share as much of my culture with them as they have their culture with me.



Making guac



One night they came over and we made burritos and guacamole. They’d never had guacamole before (gasp!), and we had a lot of fun mashing the avocados. In true Chipotle fashion, I helped them learn how to roll a burrito and they really managed it quite well. I was pretty sure that they enjoyed their first foray into the realm of Mexican food, and sure enough a couple of weeks later, they told me that they made burritos with their families one weekend. That really made my day.

Who would’ve thought that such fantastic relationships would come out of learning Russian in Germany? My life here is full of wonderful people, and I am so thankful for their warmness and acceptance.



Rolling like a pro...note the pinky!



Deine,

N* 



Beautiful flowers they brought me



 

Florence on the Elbe

 13. März 2011

Bright and early Wednesday morning, Michelle and I were on a train rocketing east at a furious pace while we still struggled in vain to maintain even a semi-conscious state after only a few hours sleep and a 4:30 A.M. wakeup call. But by the time we got to Dresden and checked into our hostel, we were ready to start exploring. We would spend the next few days discovering what a cultural treasure Dresden is.

After days on the go, it’s hard to be poetic, so a descriptive list of suggested sites and restaurants will have to do for now.



Der Zwinger back view

 1. The Zwinger – We didn’t actually go there on this trip, but I’ve been there previously. If art from the Middle Ages through the 18th c. or so is your thing, GO! There is a good selection of famous works by artists like Rafael, Titian, Rembrandt and Canaletto, and the way the large galleries are hung floor to ceiling as they would have been in art exhibitions through history is a worthwhile experience in itself.

 

Die Frauenkirche

 2. The Frauenkirche – The majority of Dresden was destroyed by Allied bombs in WWII, including the Frauenkirche (The Church of Our Lady). Since then the city has been restored incredibly accurately and historical monuments such as this one have been painstakingly reconstructed using original materials wherever possible. Today the Frauenkirche boasts a spectacular pastel and gold-leafed Rococo-style interior well up the three balconies and into the dome. The ascent up the dome itself is long and full of stairs, but you get an intimate understanding of the church’s construction as you are taken through the many subparts as you ascend the dome. The 360° panoramic view of the city isn’t bad either, but hold onto your hats! The wind at the top actually made walking a challenge.

View from Frauenkirche Dom

3. The Albertinum – This art museum was an excellent choice for Michelle and I because I hadn’t been there before and this is exactly the kind of art (late 1800s, 1900s and contemporary) that she enjoys the most. The top floor had German Realism, German and French Impressionism (including a fantastic Degas pastel piece and a famous Gauguin depicting two Tahitian women, which used to grace the wall of my dorm room). The middle floor was mix of stimulating Contemporary Art and storage display cases full to the seams with statues. The exhibits were set up as a ring, so starting and ending with sculpture was an interesting, but oddly satisfying bookend to the Contemporary section. On the ground floor was the Sculpture Hall. One of the Degas “Little Dancer” sculptures was there too – fantastic!

4. The Dresden Zoo – Yes, the zoo with animals. We were asked incredulously if that’s what we meant several times while trying to get directions at the hostel. Honestly I wouldn’t have thought to go to the zoo, but props to Michelle because it was a great idea! Even though it wasn’t super warm, we still got to see most of the animals including a snow leopard, a lynx, ring-tailed cats, red pandas and a sloth with a baby on its belly. Aside from the sloths and lynx, all these animals had fantastically fluffy tails. I don’t know why, but I am really a sucker for awesome tails…so cute! What a fun way to spend he afternoon, especially since the weather warmed up to the 50s this week.

  



Der Semperoper



 5. The Semperoper – The opera house is well worth the visit. Especially if you can get 10€ student tickets for the ninth row 30 minutes before the show! We went to see the Magic Flute (an opera that is actually in German and whose libretto I’ve studied intensively). Honestly, I wasn’t such a fan of the modern adaptation of the show, but the singing and orchestra themselves were unbelievable beyond words! We couldn’t believe we were sitting amongst ladies in elegant dresses and well-suited gentlemen in an ornate opera house with four stories of wall-ringing tiered seats extending far above the main floor to the Rococoesque ceiling. Sadly I made the mistake of bringing only jeans on the trip and I also wore my hiking boots that day. Thankfully, as at other German theatre events I’ve attended, people dress up only as much or as little as they feel like, so I really wasn’t too out of place.



Traditional "Blue Onion" Pattern


6. Meißen Porcelain Factory – We spent our third day on the trip in Meißen, a small but quaint town to the Northwest of Dresen. As the first ones to arrive at the porcelain factory, we got a private tour! There were four (live!) demonstration stations showing how porcelain is made, shaped and created, along with an audio explanation. I couldn’t believe how quickly the artists worked on the wheel or created parts, like individual flowers, out of thin air. I’d love to be skilled enough to do that kind of work. The museum of all the old porcelain patterns (all of which are still produced or still can be ordered today!) was interesting and full of beautiful artworks – utile and decorative – from the whole history of the production of porcelain. Meißen was the first location in Europe where someone figured out how to make white porcelain, which up until that point had only been available as an import from the Far East. It was fascinating how deeply the tradition rooted itself there and remains important today. I bought a small piece in the traditional blue onion pattern – handmade and hand painted in the factory. Can you believe it?



Eine Mietzekatze!



7. The rest of Meißen – We took a walk into downtown Meißen, where the friendly lady in the tourist office gave us suggestions on where to go. The Frauenkirche there has a set of porcelain bells (everything here is centered around porcelain, even today), which we were lucky enough to visit at the right time to hear. I really should start taking my voice recorder with my when I travel! Then we climbed up the stairs which wrapped along the side of the hill. At the top we visited the church as well as the castle where the porcelain was originally produced. The inside was lavishly painted; I can’t imagine actually living somewhere like that!



"Spicy Cauliflower Curry"



Those are the main sightseeing attractions I can recommend, so now let’s talk about food! It’s pretty exciting

to visit a new city and actually have recommendations to give. One day we ate lunch at “Cafe áha” – a little place over a Free Trade Shop (also worth a visit, but don’t be surprised if your wallet ends up significantly lighter afterwards) that offers many organic and vegetarian options. The food was excellent. I had “Spicy Cauliflower Curry”. You could also order half-portions. I did. We visited “Leonardo”  for dinner. They are a bit more off the beaten path in a restaurant area often frequented by locals. They feature a small fixed menu, but most of the main dishes change daily and can be read from a chalkboard. Michelle and I shared a “Topf” (best translation: foods baked together in a cast-iron pan in the oven…could be casserole-ish) of scalloped potatoes with tomatoes, mushrooms and basil and then splurged and each got apple strudel with ice cream for dessert. Yum. The other two nights we went to a fantastic little Italian place  in the square where the Frauenkirche is. I ate there with my former German host Mom, so I already knew it would be good. I can definitely recommend the “Spinach and Gorgonzola Pizza”, but I’m pretty sure you can’t really go wrong there. We definitely enjoyed a variety of good food available in Dresden for a decent price!



Meißner Fummel

 And while we're on the topic of food...I forgot to mention the Meißen specialty...Meißner Fummel!  Fummel are made from increidbly thin noodle dough and they are like a dough balloon once baked.  They were invented because the couriers carrying the porcelain from Meißen were breaking their cargo far too often, as they were indulging in Meißner wine.  In order to test if they were careful enough, they were required to transport the Fummel with them and present them whole at the destination.  Of course, we had to try one.  It was chewier than I expected...kind of like a sweet, tough cracker, but it tasted good.  And of course, it was full of air, haha.

Through really old glass...

Overall I highly recommend Dresden as a short trip destination. It certainly lives up to the name it was christened with in its heyday – “Florence on the Elbe”. The city itself is beautiful, there’s lots to do, many places are easily walkable (we ended up walked about 26 miles in the day we were there…not because we had to, but because we like to walk…a lot) and if that’s not so your thing, the public transportation appeared well-connected, and overall the city seemed very safe. And of course, I was lucky enough to have the BEST travel buddy!

Deine,

N*

A Series of Random Topics

13. März 2011



Berliner Dom and blue skies...finally!

 This week, Michelle finally got to come visit me. We’d been waiting for this trip for months, especially since we hadn’t seen each other since graduation in May. I started out by surprising her at the airport (we’d arranged to meet at the train station), and we headed to the main train station, locked up her bags with a fair amount of hassle, and set off for the Berliner Dom. It had been a few years since I’d there, and Michelle never had, so the monumental greatness and beauty of the massive church was not lost on either of us. After that we walked past the Synagogue, noting a surprising number of Mexican restaurants along the way, before heading back to Roßlau to prepare for two full days at school.

Mondays and Tuesdays are always crazy to begin with, and the teachers I worked with all wanted to integrate Michelle into class work and take advantage of having another native speaker around. Even I didn’t quite anticipate how much they’d want to integrate her, and I think it was a bit overwhelming at times (sorry, Michelle!). She stepped up with ferocity, though, for topics ranging from a debate about whether gun control would lower violence in schools, to the American West, to life in small-town America, to life in the South, to small talk and teenage pregnancy. It was enough for me without the jetlag, and Michelle and I were seriously exhausted. I hope that she enjoyed experiencing the Gymnasium, even if it was hectic and stressful at times.



Salsa demo

 The big reward came at the end of the day on Tuesday when we got to teach three Salsa classes! We started in my afterschool group of 9th and 10th grade gifted English students – five girls – and decided to work on the Samba line dance before teaching a few steps of partner salsa. We only had 45 minutes, but the girls learned very quickly.

Then we worked with the 6th grade dance group on the basic salsa steps through a follow-along warm-up, reviewed the Samba line dance I’d taught them the week before and then learned some new dance steps to help them with their “Salsa personalities”. It was so good to have a chance to work with them separately from the older students because they really blossomed. Usually some of the 8th graders come at that time too, so it’s really difficult to keep a balance between the levels.

The last group included the more advanced students, ranging from 6th to 11th grade. Surprisingly they all meshed together really well. The girls seemed to enjoy the salsa, and I was also glad to see a few of my English students from 9th and 11th grade join us for the day. Since most of them are already dancers, counting was not a problem, and I couldn’t believe how quickly they picked up the steps and the Spanish names for them. An hour and a half later they could dance a full song of “Micaela” and do about six steps. Wow! Half of them had to be guys, but because there were not actual guys in attendance, it wasn’t so much of a problem. They also requested to dance the Samba line dance I taught them last week again.

I could see they were having fun, and Michelle and I certainly were! It made me so proud to see how versatile they were as dancers and how willing to take on the challenge of dancing in English and Spanish they were. I’m fantastically proud and thrilled to be lucky enough to continue working in a dance group like that!

Deine,
N*

In Which I Experience a Small Flood

11. März 2011

When I wrote about my students a while back, I mentioned Lena, one of my 9th graders. Since I’ve met her, she has continued writing e-mails to me, working hard in English and generally being interested in the U.S. She’s actually going to be able to go to the U.S. with our school’s month-long exchange program to Texas in the fall. She was a bit unsure about going at first, but when a spot opened up, she really took the initiative, so I’m incredibly proud of her.

One day we ended up talking about food, and she told me about “Grießbrei”, which they often eat for dessert in her family. Of course with my dessert project in full swing, I wanted to know how to make it. Well, Lena went home, asked her Mom about the recipe and sent me an e-mail with instructions, but then suggested we make it together sometime. And that’s how I ended up inviting her over to cook it and watch a movie with me.

Of course, the day before this, I became obsessed with the idea of Eierschecke – a three-layer cake typically found in Saxony, and especially in the city of Dresden, and decided to give it a go. However, round one was not to be because the yeast dough recipe I had ended up being faulty; I tried it twice with horrendous, rock-like results. After further research, I decided to try out a more cake-like bottom layer the next day. This was more successful, but ended up seeming a bit like my snicker doodle cookie dough, but I went ahead and greased the pan anyways. The dough looked like it might not stretch enough to fill the whole baking dish, so I decided to use only part of it and proceeded to fashion a wall out of tin foil. Don’t ask. It seemed like a good idea at the time.


Quark filling...and the wall!





 About an hour and a half before Lena was set to arrive, I was busy mixing the thick, quark filling. Quark is sort of like a mix between yogurt and cream cheese, so this filling could be compared in a way with American cheesecake. The result when it is cooked is a bit more fluid and slightly stickier, yet it somehow retains a fairly firm taste and texture. Finally I began composing the custard top, complete with separating egg yolks and egg whites. Whipping the egg whites was certainly an adventure, as I didn’t anticipate just how much they’d expand and it was necessary to transfer them to a larger bowl partway through. All in all, I felt proud of my egg-related efforts for the afternoon.

Just as I finished cooling the custard made from the egg yolks and whipping the egg whites, Lena called me. Through some miscommunication (on my part) about directions (because somehow I apparently still can’t adequately describe where I live), her Dad had brought her to the wrong house, but eventually she arrived with a box of chocolates, the Grieß and a glass jar of cherries we would later heat for the topping. I warned her about the highly experimental nature of my cake, and went about mixing the top layer. As I was pouring the egg custard over the top, I could see that there wasn’t really room for it. Just as I was sincerely regretting not rolling the bottom layer out to cover the entire pan, a flood of egg custard broke the aluminum dam and flowed as though molten across the open third of the pan.


The Grießbrei

 “That’s not supposed to happen, is it?” remarked Lena in her slightly Germanized and completely adorable British accent. Of course I replied in the negative, but decided to put the cake in the oven regardless.

In the meantime, Lena and I started in on making the Grießbrei. She told me that her Mom makes it so often that she doesn’t even have to measure the Grieß, which looked a bit like sand, anymore. While we put the cherries on to heat, we guesstimated the proper amount and cooked it. The result can best be compared to Southern grits, I think, but we’d put in a bit too much Grieß, so our version turned into large cakes of grainy stuff, much like polenta, as it cooled. It was still tasty, though.


Finished in the oven!





By then the cake was done, and by some miracle, none of it was burnt, despite the lack of uniformity in the composition. While waiting for the cake to cool, Lena and I watched The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants in English – a movie based on one of my most-read series of books and which also had a good level of English for Lena. I think she enjoyed it, and afterwards we also enjoyed the cake, which turned out to be perfectly moist and delectable, even if the aesthetic was a little unusual. I had to transfer part of the top layer so it was allocated properly across the cake.



Masterpiece

 All in all, I’d deem it a success…the cake and the evening. I’m consistently impressed with my students’ abilities in English, and the chance to interact bears innumerable opportunities for intercultural exchange. Unfortunately having my students over also means they are prone to be exposed to some of my crazy cooking/crafting ideas that are constantly underfoot in my apartment, but hey, life’s not fun without a little crazy!

Bis bald!

Deine,
N*

P.S.  If you'd like to try out the Eierschecke recipe...I used this one for the dough and this one for the top two layers, minus the lemon zest and raisins.  The only problem might be getting quark in the U.S., but I've been told that some World Markets actually carry it.

Whirlwind

2. März 2011

In February, Erin and I traveled to Lisbon over our Winter Break. The trip really started in Greece, though. Well, at least the idea did. We thought we’d go somewhere warm for our February winter break, but it turns it turns out that winter in Greece actually is winter and not the mild temperatures we were seeking. Plus many places are closed in the off-season. With some German directions, we settled on “Lissabon” without actually knowing a lot about it. The trip was simultaneously one of the most thrilling, albeit it one of the must frustrating culturally I have yet to encounter. 



Gateway by dusk



Neither Erin nor I spoke a word of Portuguese prior to the trip, although I can understand a substantial amount of the written language. Portuguese is the ultimate language mash-up, so my varied amounts of background knowledge in Italian, French and Spanish served me well for reading. The problem is that the spoken word often sounds much different than you’d think because, as I was told, all of Portugal’s many colonial holdings during the empire have shaped the vocabulary and pronunciation of the language, so really speaking any Portuguese in a way that wasn’t completely degrading the language or my pride was a lost cause. We settled for being able to say “thank you” – “obrigado(a).” If you can only say one word in a language, I think that’s a pretty good choice.

“Pastéis de Nata”



Trying to find decent meals was difficult with a vegetarian in tow, so from that standpoint, our experience with authentic food was not fantastic, although the pizzeria next to our hotel had an unbelievable spinach and mushroom pizza. The pastries were out of this world, though. Lisbon is filled with little cafés where locals go in the late afternoon to enjoy coffee and pastries, often while standing right at the counter. We tried square-shaped doughnuts, flaky spiral breads and something made from quince among others, but perhaps the most sensational were the “Pastéis de Nata” which we abstained from getting until the last day, so we could eat them at their place of origin, the “Pastéis de Belém”. There you can enjoy these custard-filled tarts, still hot from the oven, outside with a view of the water. The day was warm at about 60° Fahrenheit, and we basked coatless, thus securing our image as tourists, while the creamy custard and crusty crunch of the tart cups was a perfect compliment to the weather.



Typical mosaic ground



That day wrapped up a whirlwind of sightseeing encompassing the main sights of the mosaic-sidewalked city, as well as a day trip to the cities of Sintra and Cascais, with a stop at the Cabo da Roca – the westernmost point in Europe. The countryside was a veritable jungle of verdant trees, bushes and flowers, which was juxtaposed with the indescribable turquoise depths changing to roiling white breakers which graced the still-green coastline. In Cascais I narrowly escaped a sneaker wave as it rushed in suddenly to engulf my legs to the knees, above which rested the blissfully dry inside-out edges of the jeans I had so fashionable folded up over themselves to the thigh mere seconds before. It was a lucky break indeed to be wading in the Atlantic in February with relative comfort.

   

Jerónimos Monastery



The mild temperatures allowed us to roam the ruins of a Moorish castle in Sintra and the Castello de San Jorge in Lisbon itself. Both were full of giant stairs, parapets paralleling those I had only read about in books as a child, and picturesque panoramas. The latter was also filled with cats and peacocks. The National Palace in Sintra was a lavish meshing of colorful patterned tiles, paintings and regal-looking furniture, complete with the most enormous kitchen I’ve ever seen in my life. Each gigantic pot had room underneath it for a decent-sized blaze, and one of the ovens was like a giant closet! The architectural feats in Lisbon are bolder and more varied than I’ve ever seen, in main part due to the fact that the city is so old that something from nearly every time period and from many cultures – Moors, Romans, Visigoths, etc. (we saw a real aquaduct!) can be found. The famous Belém Tower and Jerónimos Monastery are actually quite young in comparison with many sites, but they are no less spectacular; both are feats of grandeur with ornate stone decorations that we can only dream about in the U.S.



Typical mosaic tiling





Belém Tower



Cathedral Memorial



A 3 hour turned 5 hour tour with our guide and just one other Italian man allowed us more glimpses of the city’s spectacular diversity. In 1755 an earthquake destroyed most of the city and along with its resulting tsunami caused the deaths of a large percentage of the population. The city regenerated quickly with the first earthquake-proof housing, leaving the towering, crooked vertebrae of a ruined church as a remembrance, and allowinga new, modern layer of the city to be born. Most buildings were ravaged, but the parts of the city build on bedrock such as the Alfama Quarter remained virtually untouched. Walking here was like entering a completely different world where laundry is left unattended and no one locks their doors. It only takes ten minutes to reach the city center on foot, but somehow this world of quaint houses, public baths and Fado restaurants has maintained a spirit of its own.



View into Alfama



I was fascinated to learn how people from all economic backgrounds coexisted in Alfama. Life there seems to be about LIVING. This tolerance for differences carries out into the city’s easy multiculturalism as well. I had noticed how culturally diverse the city was, but I was surprised to hear how, unlike other diverse cities, there was no “Chinatown” or “Little Italy” there. Our tour guide, an immigrant himself, explained that this integration is something else that stems back to colonial times. When the Portuguese were trying to build their empire, each soldier sent to a foreign land was required to take a wife as a way to gain rapport with the people and make their holdings more stable. As a result when people from these colonies came back to Portugal, they were already integrated into society via their Portuguese family members, so there was no need to move into a separate area of the city. There wasn’t any pressure to do so anyways because so many people had foreign family members themselves. Ironically, out of the country’s efforts to colonize – something that usually involves taking someone cultural else’s identity and pushing your own upon them – the Portuguese immersed their own people in multiculturalism. This has given birth to an immeasurable spirit of tolerance in the city. “We have our problems,” our guide told us, “but racism isn’t one of them.” Hearing this from the lips of an immigrant, who feels able to identify in part as Portuguese, gave me so faith in humanity. I’d like to live somewhere where people are seen first as people, rather than as colors, religions or countries.



Elevator!



We invested in a Lisboa (name for Lisbon in Portuguese) Card – a wise choice since it afforded us numerous discounts and free entries to museums and monuments in addition to unlimited use of all public transportation systems in the city. This included buses, the metro system, street cars, old-fashioned San Francisco-like trams, as well as the elevators. You could ride up several stories and climb to a panoramic view of the city, but at first I was a bit confused as to why they were considered a mode of transport. This is until I realized hat high up on the back side was an aerial pathway connecting the towering structure with the hill behind it. We tried it once, and although the line took about 20 minutes, the trip in the giant wrought-iron encased box was a much-needed escape fro the winding uphill path through the streets we would have otherwise taken. It was a shame I didn’t have my pedometer, but based on previous experience I can tell you we probably walked 6-8 miles (and sometimes more) each day.

Our last night in Lisbon was dampened by our unsuccessful pursuit of food, as we sort of ended up in the middle of a feud between two restaurants hosts. Hindsight is twenty-twenty, and we should have chosen neither establishment, but we were so hungry and frustrated that we caved. To top it all off, we ended up missing our bus-stop at the airport because the bus stopped at only one of the three that were advertised (you probably have to know when to press the button to tell the bus you want to get out there), and we ended up trekking our bags the half mile back to the airport. Oy. This curbed our mood significantly on the return trip, but once we were back in Dessau for the weekend, it was easy to remember the overall positive feeling of our time there as we scrolled through hundreds of fantastic photos!

With that, I will leave you with one final anecdote that illustrates just how crazy some aspects of the trip became. Erin and I needed stamps, as several of the postcards she was sending were headed for Germany, so she couldn’t just send them when we returned. Unfortunately, she ended up with stamps for Europe on all of her postcards and some needed to go to the U.S. in Portugal you have to take a number and get in line at the post office because the Portuguese like to be able to enjoy coffee if it’s going to be a long wait. So, when Erin came over to the counter where I was still being helped, the attendant noticed the error, removed the stamps and replaced them with new ones, telling us in broken English that she couldn’t resell them, but we could give them away.

We didn’t want the stamps to go to waste, so we decided to try to give them to people who we saw were mailing postcards. Our first victims were an older man and woman. Unfortunately their English wasn’t so good, but when they said they were sending the card to Italy, I jumped in without thinking, “Parla italiano, Lei?” After they replied in the affirmative, I finally managed to explain about the stamps and how they were free because we couldn’t use them. That worked with some minor language hang-ups on my part (my Italian is a bit rusty, and I’ve never had the chance to speak to a lot of native speakers), but then the postmaster came over and started telling us (in Italian!) that it was illegal to sell stamps, which we explained wasn’t what we were trying to do, as did the couple. He still looked angry, so we left a “free stamps” in Portuguese with the help of our dictionary and made our exit. We’re pretty sure the postmaster probably took the stamps away as soon as we were gone, but at least we tried.

I caught Erin completely off guard with my quick transition into Italian, and the two of us laughed about the incident later, although while it was happened, it wasn’t so amusing. And with that, I shall close the door on Lisbon and wait for the next adventure!

Deine,

N*

Columns on Belém Tower

Moorish Castle ruins

Westernmost Point in Europe

       

Undeniably American

Some days I am painfully aware of my American-ness, and I can see just where the Europeans find humor (and occasionally frustration, I’m sure) at my behalf. One such occasion ensued as Erin and I flew back from Lisbon and landed in the Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris. The transcript of our conversation while approaching the airport would look something like this:
E: Oooooh! I hope we get to see the Eiffel Tower.

N: (looking around to see which side of the plane might have better viewing potential) The Eiffel Tower! Me too!

E: I mean, I know I’m coming here in June, but I don’t want to wait. I want to see it NOW!

N: Which direction are we approaching from? This airport is North of Paris…I think.

E: We’re supposed to be there in 30 minutes, but I guess we’re still a ways away.

(Proceeding to strain our necks looking out the window, undeterred by the previous revelation)

E: Is that Paris over there?

N: Maybe. Yes. No…wait…no, no definitely not. I mean, Paris must be bigger than that.

(Watching with bated breath)

E: There is that it? Well, maybe it’s too far.

N: Well, Paris is pretty far from the airport, so it could be…oh gosh…shhhh, if the French people hear us…

E: Yes, “American tourists”…

N: But we are…sort of…

E: We can claim Germany sort of…

N: (Looking around to see if anyone has noticed us having a conniption trying to see the tower) Eh, at least we have an excuse.

E: Hey! Is that it, that thing there?

N: Huh? What? Where? No. I think those are power lines.

E: Are you sure?

N: Yeah, I don’t think it’s tall enough…oh yeah, there’s more than one. Oops. That would be embarrassing if someone heard us.

E: Oh my gosh! What if we THINK we see the Eiffel Tower and get all excited about it, but it isn’t really it and the French people around us are all thinking, “Stupid American tourists”?

N: That’d be bad, but at least we’d think we thought we’d seen it.

E: But we really want to see it. Ok, we have to calm down so they won’t know what we’re doing.

N: Ok, ok, you’re right. (Talking a long breath in) Looky, looky! There! I think I see it – you know that thing we were talking about!

(If no one’s heard us already, they’ve surely heard us now.)

E: I don’t see it.

N: Well, I’m not sure – no, that’s it, I just saw where it splits. Look there…no further to the right…

E: I see it! It has to be, right? It’s soooooo tall.

E & N: Woooooooow!

(Mind you, we are effectively ogling what looks like a stick from the distance we are at.)

E: I really hope it’s right. How much time do we have here?

N: Two hours.

E: We should go on a bus to the city, just to see.

N: We almost have enough time.

E: We could do it…

N: But if what happened this morning happens, we’re stuck.

E: Yeah.

(Collective sigh. Meanwhile the plan lands.)

E: We saw the Eiffel Tower!!!

N: I know! Oh my gosh, we can’t get up. I’m sure everyone heard!

E: Well, they probably couldn’t see us.

(We look at each other and get up.)

N: (innocent face) We had nothing to do with it.

E: With what?

N: Exactly.

(We leave the plane.)

E & N: OMG! We saw the Eiffel Tower!

We did later determine that it was indeed the Eiffel Tower, and we also got a better view. Some days it pays to be a silly American! And dude, seriously…we saw the Eiffel Tower!

Deine,
N*

Lappach

I have to say that leaving the beautiful valley in Lappach, Italy was much harder than I imagined. While I was there, I felt at home in the beautiful, craggy Alps, that reminded me of my own Rocky Mountains, and I fell in love with the thrill of speed. Much like when I’m riding a bicycle, once I got comfortable skiing, I was enamored with the speed of it, and it’s amazing how much I improved so quickly. I only fell about 10 times the whole week and not at all in the last days. I went from skiing “pizza” to skiing “French fry” as one of my Colorado friends so eloquently put it.

There’s nothing quite like riding the ski lift to the top of the mountains at Sonnklar to enjoy a 360 degree panoramic view of snow-covered peaks and valleys filled with quaint villages, and knowing that the only way down is in your own hands. It was amazing how over the week, the slopes that seemed impossibly steep to me started to look downright inviting, and the extreme s-curves across the slope to slow my skiing turned to more gentle swoops with my increasing speed. The euphoria of the views and the speed enabled me to ignore the exhaustion that would soon set in at the end of each day. I could’ve skied forever.

On the last day, I took the test that the 11th graders had to undergo, and I came out with a ‘2’. In the German grading system, a ‘1’ is pretty much perfect, and a ‘2’ is very good, so I was pleased. The students really seemed to enjoy that I had to go through the test as well. Everyone in my ski group came through well, so we were all pleased. Learning to ski with the class allowed me that chance to talk to a lot of the students, and I’m now reaping the benefits of this in class. The seventeen-year-olds have been a tough crowd, but since I’ve worked with them after the ski trip, they seem to trust me enough to speak more. They are smart and really a pleasure to work with. At least if I had to leave the Italian Alps behind, I left with a group of students and teachers who have enlarged the family I’ve been lucky enough to build since I’ve been in Germany.

Deine,
N*

Let Them Eat Fish!

15. Januar 2011

Long, long ago I promised an update on what it’s like to be a vegetarian in German. Here’s the skinny: Definitely doable, albeit periodically frustrating.

Here’s why:

1. Most traditional German food involves meat and some kind of gravy with potatoes, dumplings, or the like, or it involves some kind of sausage. Of course, there are many other things to try, but I do think it’s a shame that it’s very difficult for me to bond with people here over their favorite meals. Food ties us together in so many ways, so it’s a shame to miss out on part of that aspect of the culture.

2. Right now, being a veggie in Germany is like being a veggie in the U.S. about ten years ago. (Granted it is not always easy in the U.S., but certain steps forward have been made). Many people’s first reaction is to try to feed me fish. I know that it’s meant well, so I’m not offended, but I am not a pescatarian, so I don’t actually eat fish, and I also happen to be allergic to seafood. Oy. Try explaining that in German three times fast. Sometimes people also don’t realize that I also can’t eat broth made with meat products – an honest mistake – but then they feel badly and I feel badly, plus I don’t like to put anyone out, so it just turns into an awkward.

3. And possibly the worst: “Well, you can eat X because you can’t eat Y, too…but you could…” I find this distressing. I’ve never asked anyone to be veggie. I’m not even asking for a special meal; there have been occasions where I’ve offered to eat bread and cheese. All I want is for everyone to enjoy a meal together, whatever we have to do to make that work, so please, don’t try to change my beliefs without knowing my reasons. I promise to respect yours.

Thankfully I have a very understanding network in Dessau, not to mention that I mostly cook just for myself, so in everyday situations, it’s really not a problem. Most people are really flexible and helpful, and my German friends all seem to enjoy my recipes. I even got a veggie cookbook from the English teachers at school for my birthday, which I’m looking forward to using when I get back to the U.S. I’ll just have to get fast at metric-to-English conversions!

Deine,
N*

Ein Ausflug nach Werni

16. December 2010

The car strained up the incline, wheels alternately whirring and grinding as they slipped, gained purchase and slipped again. Being native to an area often blessed with copious amounts of snow in the winter, less-than-ideal conditions are nothing out of the ordinary, but this snow-covered sloped was nothing short of ghastly. The snow shone eerily in front of us, lit only by the outdoor lamps shining dimly through the mist from the adjacent buildings.

“I’m going to try to find the reception,” H finally decided, and she climbed out of the car and trekked crunchily up the hill in front of us. J and I sat in silence, chilled by the sharp blast of freezing wind and the prospect of attempting the incline again.

“This can’t be the entrance,” J mused and began backing down the road. The car fishtailed wobbily and he cursed worriedly under his breath. We cleared the tree and turned back onto the main road. And this was the start of my weekend in Wernigerode. Thankfully, this first grueling episode didn’t translate into a grim tone for the rest of the weekend.

In fact, it was quite the contrary. I left H and J with their family and met my friend, Erin, who also works as a teaching assistant. We took refuge from the wind and she cooked a fragrant tortellini soup in her cozy apartment. Between soup and lots of tea that we cooked whenever we came in from the cold, we had no problem staying thawed.

The next day the shopping activities revolved around cookies – the sugar kind with icing. Unfortunately, there was a minimal selection of sprinkles, and there were no red hots to be found. Erin’s apartment has a kitchen, but no oven, so we had to use the kitchen in the WG (Wohngemeinschaft – shared apartment) next to her apartment. Mixing the ingredients posed the challenge of converting everything in the recipe to metric, and then I proceeded to mix away as one of the WG guys watched curiously.

While the dough chilled, Erin and I braved the cold once again to visit the Weihnachtsmarkt. A giant Pyramid spun in the main square, and we perused the wares. I completed my Christmas shopping and treated myself to melt-in-your moth Creppelchen, which are called “Schmalzkuchen” in Werni. Then we saw something odd.

“Puf-fer-fies,” we stuttered, “What’s that?”

“I think we have to try it,” Erin decided.

I agreed. Pufferfies turned out to be like little pancakes with a hollow center. They are made on a griddle with rows of round indents by pouring batter into each indent and then flipping it when it’s halfway done to create the aforementioned hollow inside. We tried some with Eierlikor (literally translated: egg liquor…but I’m still not 100% sure exactly what it is), which was odd, although the Pufferfies were very tasty.

On our way home, we also purchased a Schneeballchen (like pie crust remnants formed into a ball, baked and then coated in almost anything to can imagine) because it was just one of those “have to try it” kind of days. Hmmm…possibly we enable each other…

Cookie time was quite a success, although we have a small disaster trying to boil sugar in water to make a corn syrup substitute. As in the common German Christmas song, “In der Weihnachtsbäckerei” (In the Christmas bakery): Gebrannt! (burned). Then WG guy had a lot of fun stirring up a new batch and using it to “thicken” our green frosting. Really, I think he just wanted to experiment with his concoction. It was funny, though. I wish he and I would’ve had Erin’s saintly cookie decorating patience; sadly, our contributions were rather haphazard. But they tasted good.

Riding home on the train the next day, I felt utterly content. Sometimes going away for a few days really helps you put a different perspective on things.

Bis bald!

Deine,
N*