Life: Idiotropic

30 Aug 06 -- The last of the wheat has been harvested with only a few small patches of miscolored wheat remaining. Last week I drove to Schinnen as the final bales were loaded up and carried off. Now I see the potato harvesters sitting in the middle of muddy fields with kids sorting through them as they come up the conveyer belt and spill into the big bin. And the corn should be next. I'm waiting to see it in the market. I've heard that corn is only grown for the livestock here which would be sad. There are fields of it everywhere. Makes me want to grill.
Fields where wheat once grew are now growing something green. It's amazing how quickly the ground can turn up something new. I guess I shoudn't be amazed. The weeds in my garden once had a contest to see which could reach the top of the fence the fastest and it ended in an all-around tie. In my limited agricultural experience, weeds have been the only thing to grow quickly and reliably, but here, it seems these farmer folks know a thing or two and literally overnight it seems a plot of earth will go from a rich chocolatey brown to an almost chartreuse green.

So, there is no trace of the bright yellow flowers that grew here in May nor of the wheat that seemed to be everywhere. The corn is even disappearing now, to my dismay, without even the slightest trace except may be a few more fattened pigs somewhere around here. We were surrounded everywhere we drove by fields upon fields of bright beautiful corn. Now, one by one, the corn is disappearing leaving only stubby 2" stalks behind. Big trucks haul off the remains, completely chopped up into bits, stalks, leaves, corn, and all, to be fed to the livestock around here. There is no corn in the market or the grocery stores. Germans don't eat corn. They think it's bizaare that we do. Corn is pig food.

International Women dinners have started up again. The first night was hosted by Germany and the Netherlands. It started out fairly mellow - no crazy costumes, no noisy music - just a simple night. Lori Bozzi set up her treasures from all over Italy and India - beautiful jewlery, shoes, and purses. The turn-out was fantastic - way more than was expected that first night. I was especially proud that I was able to encourage the Spanish to mix a bit more. They ended up sitting right in the middle of the American crowd and we had a very nice French woman sitting with us also. She explained to me, ironically enough, how to make really good french fries, though they are a Belgian specialty.
For dinner, they served currywurst and pommes frites. While that meal is typical for carnival and street fairs, it is truly German fast food, so I was a little disappointed. They are capable of so much more, but, we they only have a certain amount of money to spend on food and they have to rely on the abilities of the Frisbee Club cooks, so, may it was for the best. It's hard to ruin currywurst. For dessert they served an apple kuchen from Germany and a rice cake from The Netherlands. Both were good, but I won't go begging for the recipes.
The real "joy" of the night came between dinner and dessert when they played "games." I was a participant in a traditional German wedding game (so I was told - though I can't imagine a bride putting herself through this). I went to the front of the room and sat down at a table there. The ladies put a poncho of sorts over me with holes on the sides and holes at the bottom. The poncho was "embellished" with a rather large stuffed brasierre up top and a little black lace thong towards the bottom. That, is where my hands went, through the holes on the bottom and into my shoes on the table so that I looked like a very tiny person in that chair. My Italian friend stood behind me stooped down so that noone could see her and she became my arms feeding me pickles and green olives, then really nasty vanilla pudding, then a very large chocolate covered marshmellow. That was a particular joy. The sweet old German lady beside me kept instructing, "a little on the nose, a little on the nose." So, I got marshmellow smeared over half my face. Then came the teeth brushing and the grand finale, dark burgundy lipstick. Ah... I was a beauty. Then the tables were turned and I was next to be her arms and hear the instructions, "a little on the nose, oh, yes, that looks good."

I went and sat at the German table afterwards because one of them had taken pictures and I wanted to see just how horrific I looked. She thought I looked cute. Not. I casually commented, "...and people think that German's don't have a sense of humor..." Looks of shock came from my friends there. Germans? No sense of humor? They were honestly surprised that they would have such a stoic reputation. Though, from experience now, it is unfounded. Germans have quirky humor, but it is definitely there. I think they just know how to work hard when it's time and play hard later.
The photos are all of bellydancing. The first two of the Germans and the last two of the Turks. After the game a troupe of German dancers came out all with brass canes and traditional belly dancing costume. After several tries the music cued to the correct place and the dancing began. I sat with the Dutch who helped out with the night asking if belly dancing had anything to do with German or Dutch culture. The looks on their faces said it all. No. The Germans were in charge of entertainment and my Dutch friends were just as puzzled as I was.

Last year the Germans put on a very nice Carnival party, but when it was time for entertainment we got a Whoopi Goldburg "Sister Act" skit and some dancing with cowboys and Indians. This year they entertained us with belly dancing.

Though there are no rules on what a country must do, the countries generally put on their night with food and entertainment that reflects/teaches something about their culture. Though there is a German culture here that is special and unique, that is not something that is displayed. It seems that they are trying to be as international as possible and I believe that has a lot to do with the past 60 years history. The country has not healed yet and nationalism is kept very quiet so that it isn't mistaken for something else.

I am not normally afraid of spiders unless they are, of course, threatening me with bodily harm or invading my personal space i.e. climbing on me, lurking above me, or propelling off the wall towards me. I do not run screaming at the sight of a spider, nor do I freeze in fright and stutter out a desperate cry for help. After all, I was a farm girl once, a long, long time ago, when I was much smaller. So, when, upon entering my living room this fine day, I caught sight of an unusually large arachnid, it took me a bit off guard that I should have a slight tinge of anxiety at the sight of it. I took a couple pictures, but would not get close enough to catch it and take it outside. There was an irrational fear that it would maliciously jump out at me and wrap me up for dinner. After a reasurring internet search I found that he was just a common house spider, but who wouldn't be intimidated by his 3" span?

I guess, in Korea, they bundle hay like this too, all wrapped up in plastic. So, Kirk and the girls have been calling these plastic covered bales of hay, "Korean Marshmellows." It's pretty silly, but all year around you can find them and the kids all get excited pointing them out to us. Elise especially likes the green ones. I think that's Jabeek in the background in the photo below. I took this photo from the side of the road on the way home from Schinnen (in the Netherlands).

Driving here in Germany is always relatively easy especially with the super-quick autobahns. The scenery is beautiful too which is almost irritating to me since I can rarely photograph it. But, may be that's a good thing. Sometimes I get caught behind the camera and miss a few things. The autobahns go by so fast and have no place to stop for a photo-op no matter how beautiful the area is, so it forces you to stare intently out the windows absorbing it all in. The photo above is one that I was able to catch driving along a country road near our gasthaus. The plateau above the Mosel expands with rolling hills and quaint villages tucked here and there. Many you don't see until you come right up on them. Like our gasthaus... it is completely hidden among trees behind a hill as you drive below the Burg Pyrmont.

On the 10th, we drove down to Burg Pyrmont with Ken and Sarah to the little Gasthaus, the Pyrmonter Muhle, where we'd stayed in May. When we'd moved here I had the notion that Europe was so big and since we had a fixed amount of time here that we should never stay in the same place twice, but this place is special and still serves the best German food that I've had living here. The half-timbered inn sits just below Burg Pyrmont and next to a beautiful little waterfall that spills into a pond and a little stream that winds around the area all the way to Burg Eltz and beyond. There's a nice walking trail there. The sign at it's entrance said "Burg Eltz 2.5 Std". Kirk had guessed that meant 2.5 stunde or hours, but we double checked to make sure. Yep - he was right... not a hike that the little ones could accomplish, but Ken and Sarah, Kirk and Tiara took off for the long walk and I met them there 2.5 hours later. While they walked, the girls and I had a little rest time in our tiny room, then we went out to the terrace overlooking the waterfall and relaxed. The girls played at the little playground there and I sat with a German couple talking and drinking cappuccino. They were from the area and were having a pint of beer and some coffee after completing the hike from the other side.

After some quiet time with the little girls, we wound throught the rolling hills to Burg Eltz. There are no highways or main roads to get there. I drove along a narrow farm road between fields of corn through a little village where I saw a tiny weather-worn wooden sign with the white painted letters, "Burg Eltz." So I followed that until the road sloped down and the trees got thicker and suddenly I was at the parking lot. We walked down the steep path to get there. The weather was perfect and though I'd been to this castle before, the view is nonetheless breathtaking. That castle is right out of a fairy tale. The hikers had just arrived almost exactly 2.5 hours since they left and had settled in at the cafe with coffee and chocolate cake.
Before we left there the girls had a chance to walk down to the little stream that runs past the castle. I told them not to walk in the water. All four of them did... not completely intentionally. I think they were honestly trying just to stay on the big rocks, but those little feet managed to get wet anyway. But, for them, a rocky stream is more exciting than an old castle any day of the week, especially if you get to play in it.
The hikers and kids had worked up an appetite, so after some clean up back at Pyrmonter Muhle, we went down for dinner. I don't remember what we all ate, but I remember all fighting a bit over the soup and that the salad was phenomenal. The kids all ate their schnitzel and fries and though I didn't ever really know what I ordered, it was delicious. My meat came with "gratinated" potatoes on the side. The potatoes are done differently here. They are sliced thin like our scalloped potatoes, but the cheese is lighter and the sauce is very buttery. It's one of those sinful melt-in-your-mouth dishes that brings you back for more. Those are the kind of meals where you just forget about calories and take on more of a "carpe dium" attitude.
One thing that both irritates and delights Americans sometimes about dining in Europe is that the pace is a bit different here... a bit, meaning, horrendously different and painfully slow. Most times, that is annoying. For us, we try to savor each moment here. There is so much to see and do. Relaxing is nice, but if you're only spending a weekend or a day at some place, then you don't have time to enjoy a leisurely 3 hour lunch and a numbifying 4 hour dinner. This particular night, relaxing with friends, the relaxed pace was just what we needed. After dinner I got the girls up to bed, then came back down to join Ken, Sarah, and Kirk. We sat out on the terrace talking and enjoying some nice German Dornfelder wine until midnight. The kitchen was closed, the lights were all off, but our waitress said that she would stay until we left, so we sat in the candlelight with no reason to hurry talking, laughing, and enjoying a beautiful German night with friends.

Breakfast is wonderful here in Germany and it hasn't lost its appeal even after living here for 10 months. Fresh brotchen, meats, cheeses, jams, and liverwurst. Hard boiled eggs, musli, orange juice and coffee. We all stuffed ourselves before checking out. Then, on the way to the river, we stopped at Burg Pyrmont. This was the second time we'd stayed at the Inn, so I had really hoped to see the castle above it. But, the photos are about it. We saw it from below. We saw it from behind. We didn't get to go inside because it was closed on Mondays. The German couple I'd talked to the day before said that there is a restaurant there that serves a very nice dinner and serves beer in terracotta pots. I guess that means I'll have to go back again - for the dinner, not the beer.



In May I'd been awed by the steep hills covered in sticks, but now... sticks don't hold a candle to the grape filled greenery that grows up and around each hill up and down the Mosel River. We drove from Burg Pyrmont to Bernkastel-Kues, a very nice town with a large number of wine-tasting shops nestled among 16th century half-timbered houses. Boat tours are common all along the Mosel, so we took one for about an hour. The kids loved it and I enjoyed taking pictures. All the green on the hills are grape vines with the exception of the trees. All that flat green space - it's all grapes. Even as we walked later through the town, the grape vines ran down the hill and came right up to the back of the buildings and into peoples little yards.
After the boatride, we met Ken and Sarah and wandered into the town to have some lunch and try some wine. The Louer wine shop was one that Ken and Sarah had been to before, so we sampled some nice white wines and bought a few to take home. I was particularly excited because they had a large bin of corks that were free for the taking... I got a small bagfull to take with me for some "crafty endeavors". I'd really wanted to take the entire bucket of them, but Kirk didn't think that was necessary. :( Winetasting was followed by a nice lunch (I had "gratinated vegetables") and a walk through the town. The half-timbered buildings are all 16th and 17th century, but the new paint walks a fine line between quaint and tacky. It is nice when you see a couple, but they were overabundant and very bright with color. Tourists were antlike throughout the streets and there was no end to the tacky German souvenier shop. That is a disappointment here. Where there is something to see, there are tourists, and where there are tourists, there are tacky gift shops.
What I did love were the clusters of grapes dangling like jewlery from vines that climbed up and over doorways and the large cascades of bright flowers spilling out from most windows. Those touches of beauty are commonplace here, but still very nice to see.
As we walked back down one street toward our car we passed a fire station. It was a modern building sitting among the old ones. You could see old buildings and grape vines in the background. There was nothing especially notable about the station itself, but we all came to a stop to look up at the flag that flew there. Until then, I'd forgotten the date. It was September 11th, and there, in that little German town, was an U.S. flag flying at their fire station.

Burg Landshut sits on a hill overlooking Bernkastel-Kues and the Mosel valley. We drove up to it and had a snack there. There are no words for the view. You just have to see it. The castle itself was surrounded by grapes on their vines. Inside was a small cafe where we had coffee and dessert. The castle was a ruin, but still looked very nice from the outside.


From this Burg, we started for home, sad that the day had run out and wishing we could take more time. I know I should see as much of Europe as possible, but with such a beautiful place only 90 minutes away, it is very tempting to do frequent return visits there.

On the weekend of 9 and 10 September our little village of Gillrath celebrated it's 200th year of the Schutzenfete with a huge party. The Wednesday prior the trucks were out with crews putting up strings of green pennants across the roads and people began to put out their bicolored flags with just two thick stripes of color.

The little parking lot across from the obst and gemuse stand (fruit and veggies) was set up with a large building, carnival games, a little ride, and a beer stand. The temporary buildings here are quite substantial with nice wooden floors and sturdy walls. They don't look temporary, but they go up and come down with remarkable speed for any special event from concerts to retail sales.

On Friday morning Tante Tinny rang my doorbell to ask if she could decorate my plants with flowers. She'd already put pretty white and yellow crepe paper flowers in the two bushes in front of my house. The two colors of crepe paper are rolled together, tied with wire, then the ends are rolled down. They are really pretty. I asked her where I could buy some. She laughed. You can't. They make them. Next year I'll see if she'll teach me.

Friday night I noticed a lot of dressed up people heading towards the party tent. Tinny told us that they were people who were born in Gillrath, but have gone to other places. They were invited back to celebrate and, on that night, the town makes a dinner for them. They come from all over to attend. I love the cohesiveness of these towns. It's very heartwarming.

On Saturday evening after a BBQ with friends at the house, we walked down to the festival area to attend the big concert: Black Foose. Seeing Black Foose is like going to a Duran Duran concert now. The band is great, but they are OLD. One guitarist was horrifically thin with a short, snow white bob. The music is typical German carnival music - not quite the Oom Pa Pa music that is stereotypical, but it is almost like that - may be OomPaPa meets rock and roll. Everyone was there - every generation from older people in their 60's and beyond to young people probably only 10 - and they all talked and danced together into the next day.

We paid for tickets with which we could buy beer, wine, fanta, and other drinks. I think we were the only American's there, but we had a great time dancing and laughing. One song played had a tune from Dirty Dancing in it ("I Had The Time of My Life"). During that song a couple of the young girls were lifted up and carried around "surfing the crowd" just like Jennifer Grey did in the movie. At 11:30 when we left, the tent was still full of people dancing including our landlord's granddaughter who's only 14.

The next day we left which I think bothered Tante Tinny a bit. She really wanted us to be at her party. She baked 5 cakes and had about 20 people over to her house. Sunday was the day of the big parade - only this big every 10 years - with over 70 different groups marching in it. My American friends who saw it said that "it went on forever."

Monday was Luci's 4th birthday AND her first day at the International Preschool. Last year she had a difficult time getting up for school in the morning and an even more difficult time saying goodbye. On this particular morning, she did absolutely fantasticly and with a smile on her face. I baked cupcakes which she shared with her class. When I picked her up, she was wearing a birthday crown and had a "happy birthday" certificate and bracelet from her teachers.

Monday was also a ballet night for Tiara, so I hauled all the girls to Sittard and while Tiara danced, the little ones and I treated ourselves to an outing at Beans and Bagels. The girls ordered hot chocolate and each of them were brought a tall mug of hot, frothy, steamed milk. The waitress asked, "milk or dark?" I said, "dark." And so, beside each hot mug was a round wooden stick with a large (1.25") cube of dark Belgian chocolate at the end of it. WOW! The girls all asked if they could eat it. No, it's to stir in your milk. That was an event in itself. What fun! To make your own hot chocolate! Thirty minutes later they all looked like they had bathed in chocolate. Of course, the mess was appropriately preportionate to age, but still, they all had chocolate spots on faces and hands.
That night was the cake/present event. Luci asked for yellow cake with chocolate frosting. I make a pink crown on the front with her name on it. She decided that she liked the pink frosting, but wouldn't eat anything touching the chocolate part, even though that's what she asked for. The presents were almost all pink. She got boas and jewlery and a princess mirror among other things. She was all smiles and is very happy being four.
The next day she told me that when I was a baby that she took care of me. I said no, that she wasn't around when I was a baby. "That's not fair! I wanted to be a baby first!"

Today we stopped by the Gangelter Gourmet, a two day festival held in the Freihof just in front of the church. The weather was iffy spitting rain on and off all day, so the crowds were low, but the people that were there seemed to be enjoying themselves and were all dressed in their Sunday best, many men in sport coats and women wearing black blazers. (nope, no well-dressed folks in this photo... the "fancy" people were all by the nicer wine cart)
About eight venders were set up. Most were restaurants cooking some of their more popular dishes right there. The Portugues restaurant had some very tempting giant prawns on a skewer. More then anything - there was wine. Usually all festivals here are dominated by beer. Today is was wine. 1Euro for a glass.

Among the venders were tables both with and without a cover from the rain. They all had beautiful centerpieces like the one below and wine menus. Nicely dressed waiters scurried around serving the people there just as if we were all in a lovely outdoor restaurant.

A stage at one end had a brass band playing typical band music. It seemed a little out of place, but, the music was nice nonetheless.

Elise had a cold all weekend, so as much as I wanted to try something yummy, I had to leave quickly. It is an event that I will try my best to catch next year as the atmosphere was very nice - even with big band.

Monday, August (the "hottest" month of the year) 28th, 2006:

I have searched the attic and pulled down all our boxes of winter clothing, searched through it, and put it all away in the kids' dressers.


Tuesday, August (still the "hottest" month of the year) 29th, 2006:

Tank tops are passe. I wore the first turtleneck of the winter season coupled with a nice long sweater. This was not the first turtleneck of the season because it was the first cold day - no, I was cold before, just stubbornly holding out for summer's return. The winter stuff is unpacked. I've given up - until next year.

Wednesday, August (hot? not!) 30th, 2006:

A friend stopped by briefly during a 5 minute sun break. She said she thinks summer is coming back. Just a couple hours later it was hailing. Meanwhile, the winter coats are hanging in the closet and I've just found the last of the hats and scarves. For lunch, I had a cup of hot cocoa.

Thursday, August (not holding out for summer's return) 31st, 2006:

Got out a large blue rubbermaid bin. All the pretty little sleeveless dresses are now in it. I'll ask Kirk to take it to the attic tonight. Gotta run, the tea is brewing.

Friday, September (Indian summer is here!) 1st, 2006:

It is 25C! It is warm! The girls wore skirts without tights. I was warm in my sweater. We opened windows to warm the house. Summer is back!

Saturday, September 2nd, 2006

Still warm enough to lull me into a false sense of security. Ironed sundresses and didn't pack them in the summer box... just in case.

Sunday, September 3rd, 2006

Reality has set in. It is once again cold and raining without breaks. Oh well. I just bought a pretty new umbrella. Now I have a reason to show it off.

This is one thing that I love about my house. Each day I look out my window and see something beautiful. Every day I see windmills. Somedays we can count 29 of them. Most days we see three horses galloping back and forth in a pasture just in front of those largest windmills. Now we have our cows that hear us in the house and look up sweetly to our windows as we call to them. And today, we have hot air balloons. Four of them in a row sailed by until they were out of sight. This photo above is so typical of here. Windmills, a cow, a girl on a bicycle, and a hot air balloon. I don't think we've ever spent so much time at our windows, but here, there is always something to see.
This is the second balloon. It was low on the horizon at first, then we saw it light up and slowly rise past the windmills and out of sight.
This balloon lit up a lot. You can actually see it in this photo. The girls were supposed to be going to bed, but all three were standing in the window, still wet and naked from their bath, mesmorized by the giant balloons floating by. Arianna asked if we could to catch one and ride on it. They are actually pretty common here. I'm sure we'll all do a ride before we move.
This final balloon was blue. The girls said it was a blue princess. We saw it land. That's when the girls wanted to run out and greet it. Another day.

Today I went to the surprise birthday party of Carlos and Beatriz, children of a couple of my Spanish friends. It was a typical party, yelling surprise, throwing confetti, gifts, cake, music. The kids played outside for a couple hours while the moms sat inside talking. When the kids moved inside to watch a movie, us moms grabbed our chairs and went outside for more quiet socializing. Most of the food was pretty normal... sandwhiches, chips, lots of candy. The cheesecake was an uncooked kind. The chocolate cake was layered with cream and cherries. The really great part... which I unfortunately did not have the forethought to photograph, was the Cocas Mallorquinas - a typical Mallorcan pizza-like thing. It was really good. So, I asked for the recipe. It's just below. Enjoy!

Cocas Mallorquinas

For the Masa (dough)

Combine:

1 cup of oil, 1 cup of room temperature water, 1 teaspoon of leavening, and about 4 cups of flour. The flour measurement is approximate. Just use your best judgement. The dough should not be overly sticky or overly tough. Joanna's dough had a yellowish hue as if she used a little cornmeal. I didn't ask her what type of flour she uses. I think when I make it I'll add half cornmeal and half all-purpose flour. When the dough is mixed, spread it onto a pan. It will be about 1/4" thick (like a pizza).

Put a little olive oil over the top of the uncooked dough.

Combine 2lb. chopped tomatoes, 2 chopped green bell peppers, 2 chopped onions, oil, salt, pepper, and paprika. Spread over the dough.

Bake at 350 degrees for roughly 20 minutes or until the dough is set and the vegetables are soft.

Our cows are back and my fanatical love for all critters bovine is rubbing off on my family. The little ones have always been entranced by any creature (including daddy long legs), but now even Kirk is getting excited about cows. He used to look at me funny when I'd open up the window and moo at them. Now Tiara joins in the moo-fest and I often see Kirk looking out the window watching them. "Look, Tiffany. The cows are being cute again!" We have three this time - not the same cows as before, but they are still beautiful and sweet. The black faced one is the friendliest and comes to the fence when he sees us - even from inside the house. Today I jumped out the window to feed him a piece of bread. Cows love bread.


Critters. I like them. But not all of them. I generally favor the kind with 4 legs or less. Eight is too many. Elise, on the other hand, is obsessed with daddy long legs. She loves them and she loves to say their name. So, at least 10 times a day, I hear "Look, Mom, a daddy long legs." No, our house isn't infested. She says it when they aren't there. Yesterday she went to take a drink of her milk. "Hey! There are cheerios in my milk." Sure enough, two little cheerios floated on top. I didn't do it. Elise obviously didn't do it. Luci was the only other one home. So, Luci said, "I didn't do it! The daddy long legs did. I saw it!." Then she went into the story of how he came down from the wall and crawled over to the cheerio bowl and picked up two cheerios and then crawled over to the milk and up the cup and then put them in and crawled away. And Luci saw the whole thing!

In the spirit of allowing differences among my children, I have encouraged Arianna and Luci to try different things, but, like many little sisters, I suppose, they want so much to be like their big sister and what she does is best.

So, ballet it is!

Stella is a wonderful British woman who teaches dance classes on base. Tiara took with her briefly last year before we found Danzaira and she did an amazing job.

On Monday I took Arianna and Luci to the beginners class with Stella. Luci has no experience and Arianna had only taken one summer at Ballet Oklahoma. Within five minutes, Stella said that she needed Luci to come back the next day for the next level up. At the end of class she asked, "and what do we do with Arianna?" Arianna went to the Grade 1 class today having skipped the three classes below it.

So, I guess for now, I've found their niche. And Tiara gets the credit for it. They play dance at home. Tiara corrects them at home just like a teacher would. So, they've learned the French and they've learned proper positioning from their big sister. Stella asked Tiara to help out on Monday and said that anytime Tiara wants to assist her in the classes that she is welcome. Tiara is excited about that and will probably help in Luci's class whenever the homework load allows for it.

Below Luci awaits the beginning of her Tuesday class. She has several friends in the class already and is very happy. When we got home she didn't want to change. She likes looking like a princess. So, out to the courtyard she went to ride her bike in her princess clothes. That's my girl!