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

       

Experiments

Sometimes I get an idea in my head that I just can’t stop thinking about. For months “Milchreis” has been haunting my supermarket visits and dancing tantalizingly before my outstretched fingertips. Finally after Christmas break in the U.S., I decided that I was going to try it. Countless times, I had returned the pre-made variety to the shelf, rejected, after careful perusal of the ingredient list, so it appeared that actually tasting the concoction would be preceded by preparing it myself. This prospect appealed to me much more, regardless of the aforementioned superfluous ingredients, I mused, as I finally gathered the needed items into my shopping cart.
Milk, the “Milchreis” rice (white rice), sugar, cinnamon. Straightforward enough. I even sprung for organic milk because at .69 Eurocents a liter, it certainly wasn’t going to break the bank. On my way home, mini-trampoline in tow (but that’s another story), I ran into one of my colleagues, who, while unabashed by the trampoline, seemed taken with the idea that I might like “Milchreis” and she hadn’t known about it. After counseling me to make sure I ate it with cinnamon and melted butter drizzled over the top the way her mom always made it and giving me a much-appreciated rundown on the exact meaning of certain vocabulary in the cooking instructions, she sent me on my way.

The "Milchreis"



Once I had thumped my way clumsily up the stairs with my ingredients and my trampoline, I relaxed into the warmth of my apartment and set the stage. One pan, a whisk (Schneebesen or “snow broom” in German!), measuring cups and a metric-English calculator later I was well underway. The process was simple enough, as “Milchreis” is in effect rice boiled in milk instead of water. The concoction was tasty, but it was a little sticky and took some adapting to. Paired with cinnamon and a little extra sugar I found it to be a comforting and satisfying treat.



Rice Pudding hot from the oven

 While talking with my Mom a few days later, she asked me if it was similar to rice pudding, fondly called “figgy pudding” in our house, which was a childhood favorite of mine. To be honest, it had been about 15 years since I’d had rice pudding, so I set out to make it, little knowing what an undertaking it would be. The recipe required baking the pudding in a glass baking dish immersed in a water bath.



Ready to eat!

 After visiting the neighbors, I procured the missing baking implements and mixed the custard while the rice finished cooking. Then I put it all together and stuck it in the oven. Luckily I had enough raisins left; even though I had bought them FOR the pudding, I had been eating them like it was my job. The result was completely different from the “Milchreis” since the eggs in the pudding make the filling custardy, but it was as delectable as I remembered.

I guess I got a bit spoiled because after both desserts were gone I felt like there was a dessert-shaped hole in my stomach that only homemade baked goods could fill, and that’s when it struck me. Even if I pass up cultural experiences due to my preference to not eat meat, German dessert is one category that leaves my options wide open. I don’t just want to eat it, though. I want to make it myself – to fully engage in the process and have a piece of German experience that surely no one in the U.S. will object to my sharing with them. So that’s my new goal: to cook, eat and share as many German desserts as I can over the next months. I’ve already invested in a new glass baking dish and a cake pan that’s like a deep cookie sheet, so let’s go!

Ideas about what I should bake?  Please enable me.

Deine,

N*

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*

Go-Go German Gadget!

When I walk into a German house, I am often charmed by the “European” look of everything. If you’ve ever walked into an Ikea, you’ll know what I mean; there’s just a staunchly European feel to it – a perfect triad of minimalism, appropriately welcoming (and often bright) colors and a certain chicness that differs distinctly in feel from American modern deco. Even if the furnishings are vastly different from what I’d choose myself, I always feel at home in these houses. Though I’m at no means ready to abandon my traditional sense of style, there are parts of this lifestyle that I could definitely see incorporating into a house someday.

The way houses are built here is also different. Sometimes the walls here are incredibly thick (greater than 1 foot), which makes sense from an insulation point of view, since energy is more expensive here and there’s no air conditioning. Multi-family homes are also common, so different levels of the houses are often occupied by different families, or different generations of a family. The “attic” part inside an A-frame is sometimes a “rental apartment” (like the one where I live), so all possible living space is used. Even the houses are connected together in city areas, with a green space only behind them. Of course, there are many single houses, big and small, in addition to the connected homes and apartments, so just like in the U.S., living situations can vary greatly.

While we’re on the topic of German houses and lifestyle, the thing I am continually fascinated by are the interesting and useful “gadgets” that can be found in my apartment/are used frequently in Germany. Since I’ve finally gotten a new camera since the tragic camera accident of 2010, let me show you what I mean!

1. We’ll start in my apartment. Check out these windows…they swing in with the left or right side attached to the wall AND tilt in, so there's just an opening at the top. I love the flexible options, and it makes cleaning on the higher floors of houses so simple.  (I wanted to put a picture here, but you just couldn't capture it.  Use your imagination!)

2. My heating system is in the floor and on the walls. It’s run by water pumps, so whenever the heat kicks in, the floors click which really freaked me out the first time I heard it and didn’t know what it was. It’s easy to use and allows me to heat different rooms to different temperatures, plus my feet are always warm.

3. Trash cans are kind of confusing, but the green aspect of them makes it worth it. I have separate containers for compost, paper, packaging and trash, plus there’s a separate place for recycling glass (bins for each of three colors) in town. There’s also a place to return certain plastic drink containers (in many grocery stores), which scans them individually and gives you back the appropriate bottle deposit.

4. Speaking of grocery stores…in large stores produce that is priced by weight is weighed in the produce section, where you then choose the product type and print a sticker with the weight and price already on it. It’s great not to have to guess what I’ll actually have to pay, not to mention it’s especially convenient here where I deal with the metric system and the Euro.  




Someone has been snacking!



5. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a German with a lunch box. Since sandwiches are standard lunch fare, they

typically use boxes like these in varying sizes, as well as smaller ones for fruit, snacks, etc. Cute, convenient and durable, as well as eliminating the use of aluminum foil or saran wrap. I’m a fan. I do have to admit that I still keep my box inside a lunch box, though.



 
 

Erasing function in action

6. Now you see it…now you don’t. I’ve taken up the fountain pen – the writing instrument of choice for many Germans. I love the way the writing looks and the way the weight of my pen feels in my hand. As a lefty I’m usually not a fan of pens for several reasons, so that I love the fountain pen is saying a lot. Plus, I feel nostalgic for the days before computers when fountain pens were a widely used writing instrument when I use it. Of course the fountain pen itself is cool, so the fact that you can actually erase it is even better. My students all come to class armed with both fountain pens and the so-called “Tintenkillers” (literally “ink killers”), which have a white tip for erasing on one end and a blue tip for writing over the erased areas on the other. Who knew?

7. I think bread slicers exist in the U.S., but I’ve sure never had one, so I’m quite enamored by mine. The bread here is superb, too. I always visit a bakery instead of buying in the grocery store, and I have the luxury of buying bread by the loaf, so it’s always freshly sliced at home. My favorites are the Kurbiskornbrot (Pumpkinseed Bread) and Dreikornbrot (Three grain bread).



Check it out...air vent!

 8. My bathroom actually features two interesting items. The pull-down window has a special tab at the top that opens to allow the humidity from the shower out of the room without letting the air outside into the house. The glass shower stall is also complete with its own squeegee for clearing the inner walls after showering. The water here is extremely hard, so if you don’t have a scraper, you constantly have to scrub off the limey residue left behind by the drying water drops after even one shower.



...note the crack in the middle!



9. Right now I actually like the idea of individual duvets with easily washable covers, especially from the standpoint of convenience. My full bed is actually two mattresses in one bed frame, so each has its own sheets and blankets. I do miss top sheets, though. The duvet is really the only blanket aside form the bottom sheet, so there’s actually nothing attached at the bottom of the bed! I was a little disappointed not to be able to sleep in the whole big bed, though…the crack in the middle sort of puts a damper in that!

Well, I think those are the most notable gadgets I can think of at the moment. Hope you’ve enjoyed them; I know I do! If you’ve ever found things like this during you’re time abroad, I’d be interested to hear about them!

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*

Somersault

16. Januar 2011

Day #2 on the slopes: Blaue Piste: erledigt. Rote Piste: erledigt. Schwarze Piste: überlebt. On my second day, I was able to manage the blue and red ski runs well, but I would consider my execution on the black run an act of mere survival. We continued to practice technique, and starting in the morning was rough, but at least it got better. Maintaining parallel skis is now at least a possibility, and when I can do so, turning goes much better. The problem is that even though I can, sometimes I don’t, and that’s when interesting things start to happen. Especially when it’s steep, and I’m a little nervous some very interesting things start to happen. Like sliding 50 feet down a black slope, getting turned around and ending with my head downhill and my skis over my head. The only way out was a back somersault. But really, most of the time, I’m feeling more and more confident, and loving the chance to learn so intensively. We’re skiing about 4-5 hours each day, and we work with the ski instructor (one of the teachers from our school in Dessau) for most of the time, so at the end of the day, we’re all spent.

At least I’m less tired today. However, I’m not any less hungry, which is good because you really need to be hungry to eat dinner here. The house where we’re staying is owned by a family, and every night they prepare dinner for us. It is perhaps some of the most fantastic food I’ve ever eaten in my life. Being veggie is not a problem; last night I even got cheese spaetzle made just for me. Needless to say, we are being fed well after a strenuous day. And dinner is in ten minutes…score!

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*