not an occupied country.

I went for a run today. I tried the Philosophenweg again, after my rousing success in conquering the Castle incline a few days ago. The Philosophenweg is a bit taller, a bit steeper, and I pretty much made it, only to stop and walk right at the top for a while. But I did make it all the way up. Definitely a vast improvement on my last attempt.

But once I made it over the bridge and back into the tourist mayhem that is the Heidelberger Altstadt, I heard those familiar celebratory bagpipes that U of C tends to claim as its own. I turned off my running music (went with a classic today: Led Zeppelin Mothership) and looked around to see what was going on. I approached the church and saw the bagpipes streaming out, followed by a procession of blue-robed and hatted students. Cool!, I think. I didn't know that Uni Heidelberg even had graduation ceremonies, and definitely didn't expect them to take place in the Heiliggeistkirche. But then I think some more, and realize we don't finish the semester (and thus no one would celebrate graduating) until mid July. And as I near the huge group of older people now filing out of the church I hear that oh-so-familiar twang of southern-American. Everyone's all fancy, decked out in their Sunday finest, streaming out of the church on Pentecost and invading the town's main square with diplomas and cheap Nikons in hand. It's the graduation ceremony for Heidelberg High School, filled with sons and daughters of servicemen and women stationed here.

I met Babsi's father this weekend- they took me out to a delicious steak dinner last night, and we went to church this morning. After church we had a cappucino and he talked to me about immediate postwar Germany, about its divisions into Russian, American, French, and British zones, and the ways in which this division manifested itself. He told me how the license plates from 1945-1949 designated the city of origin as well as which occupying power controlled that region- for example, B-M (British Münster) or A-H (American Heidelberg). These symbols fell away once Adenauer became the hand-chosen new Kanzler of West Germany. He told me of how the Americans spared Heidelberg from massive bombing because of its inherent beauty and quaint Old-German feel. About how the French, British, and Americans invited Adenauer to Bonn for a signing ceremony in a 5 star hotel overlooking the Rhine valley. They took a group photo, but had originally symbolically intended for the representatives of the 3 occupying powers to stand on a carpet, with Adenauer off it to demonstrate distance and power. Adenauer, defiantly, stepped onto the corner to show his (and Germany's) willingness to rejoin the democratic West. He told me of the huge British population that used to reside near his home in Osnabrück (in NW Germany)- how people would take in stride automobiles with steering wheels on the wrong side and some streets with traffic flipped as well. But they all left in the 70s. He tells me today not a single British person lives in Osnabrück; while that is certainly not true, the population went from about 15,000 to under 100 very quickly. When I ask why, he responds quickly, matter-of-factly, and somewhat surprised, by saying, well, we're not an occupied country.

And so with these memories and this conversation fresh in my mind, I encountered the masses of Americans celebrating a truly American tradition, and certainly one worth celebrating, thousands of miles away from America in the center of a German city. And my question, and annoyance, is formed in this way: what the hell are these people doing here? I'll put away my passing annoyance with loud, whining bagpipes piercing an otherwise calm Sunday afternoon. Why are American students graduating in a centuries-old Protestant church in the center of a German city? Why is there an American population of over 30,000 in a German city? And no, not people who've immigrated here and work here, not people attempting to learn the language and appreciate the culture. No, they don't apply for visas or get driver's licences. They live on a base. An arm of American military might, leftover from American involvement in World War II. And because the Allies had the kindness, and the foresight, to not bomb Heidelberg into the stone age, 64 years later the American government supports a massive army base here, the center of American military operations in Europe.

I keep coming back to Herr Frenk's answer, that simple, obvious answer as to why the British population in Osnabrück so quickly fell- Germany is not an occupied country. So how do I explain hundreds of Americans streaming out of a church in the center of Heidelberg, on Pentecost Sunday, after their graduation ceremonies? They study here, yet they don't have student visas. They're identified as relatives of members of the US military. But what are they doing here? What are our tanks, and jets, and guns, and bombs doing here? What are we afraid of?

Germany is not an occupied country. We should stop occupying it.

before/after

thoughts?

not a bad thursday...

I made it to the castle today! About 6 weeks after I started running, I jogged up to the castle, around the park 3 times, and back down. Pretty sweet. When I made it home I wanted to see how far I'd gone, and for the first time since 10th grade, used trigonometry (or basic geometry?) to measure how far I'd gone. You see, normally I run on a pretty much even course, with slight but never prolonged inclines. The jog up to the castle, though, is 1.32 km long with a total height difference of 95 m, or .095 km. I used the famous a(a) + b(b) = c(c) equation to figure out the actual distance I ran, but came up with 1.323 km. All the ridiculous hard work that I put into jogging up that ascent equals 3 m. Unless I did the math wrong. Oh well. But I felt quite accomplished, and it is a beautiful run. Again tomorrow?

I also had English class today. I'm teaching graduate students conversational English- one from Bulgaria, one from Poland, and one from Argentina. It was a lot of fun- I get to talk alot and listen to their stories, and they get to improve their English. I also enjoy the teaching element- it will be nice to watch them improve over the next two months I get to work with them. Also, I get paid... 10Euro per hour, and I suggested more time for each of them today, moving my hours per week from 2 to 5! Good times.

RIP Chicago Blackhawks, go Chicago Fire. Maybe they will be the team to bring us joy this year.

Love from rainy, romantic Heidelberg.

Al

breakfast in germany. a poem.

morning.
achy bones, dusty eyes.
sun comes in too hot,
makes us sweat, makes washing even more tardy.

coffee.
dark brown, no milk.
drips down the cup,
adds color, ignites the talk-engine.

chairs.
4 or 5, maybe six.
wait to be filled,
with refreshed yawns and pajamas.

bread.
a basket, and heaping.
butter all over,
with chocolate and honey at the ready.

morning.
slow thoughts, slow thoughts.
close the curtains,
let's sit a while longer.

a weekend on the bodensee

This weekend I went to the Bodensee (Lake Constance) with Hanna, Babsi, Teresa, and Liz.

The Bodensee is on the southernmost tip of Germany- bordering it are the German states of Baden-Württemberg and Bayern, Switzerland, and Austria. Liz came down to Heidelberg on Wednesday, and the next morning, bright and early, we all hopped on the Bummelzug south towards Konstanz. We rode on the Baden-Württemberg ticket, a wonderful deal by which 5 people ride all day on the slow trains through the entire state for 28 euro. It's cheap and beautiful- from Karlsruhe southwards we rode the Schwarzwaldzug (Black Forest train) through the small towns and villages of southern Germany. The Schwarzwald is breathtaking. Rolling hills, castles, rivers, cows, churches, farmers. We arrived in Konstanz around 1:30 and met Teresa, who met us after a night at home in the area.
We took the bus to another part of the city, all based off of Teresa's memories of a school field trip 7 years ago. Hanna asked a lady for directions and the lady thought she wasn't German due to her crass northern accent. We found the camping spot after a short walk and were told there was no room left- Teresa, doing her best impression of my mom, wiggled us into being allowed a spot. She's a girl you're happy to have on your side. We set up camp, shocked by the hospitable size of both tents. We were exhausted and promptly exhausted the food reserves we'd packed- the sun was very strong and we hid in the shade. Eventually we suited up and headed to the lake.
Expectations for this lake shed light on the differing notions of size between Germans and Americans. I live (and study) in Chicago on Lake Michigan. We consider Lake Michigan to be huge, but I think it's so big we all kind of consider it as an ocean. Its surface area is 58,000 km squared. A bit larger than Croatia. It's huge. But I feel like that's never really discussed, because it really is so huge.
The Bodensee, by comparison, is said to be this massive landlocked ocean, nestled between three countries and a must-see vacation location for millions of Europeans each year. Don't get me wrong, it is beautiful. From our camping location we could look southeast across the lake to the Austrian alps, covered in snow while the sun browned (or reddened) our skin. But its surface area is 536 km sq. That's less than 1/100th of Lake Michigan. Teeny. Wimpy. But still jaw-droppingly stunning.
Thursday evening we met up with Teresa's friend from grade school, Sina. She took us on a walk around Konstanz, ending up at an Asian take out place, from which we grabbed some noodles in boxes and headed towards the waterfront. There's something incredibly relaxing about a city, at night, on water. And add to that the German prowess at lighting buildings, it makes for a beautiful evening. We ate there and talked for a while and eventually made our way back to the campground and our tents. The skies had been threatening all evening, and once we had safely entered our tents Mother Nature decided it was appropriate to let loose. While enjoying wine and candlelight in the tent, the heavens let loose and we decided to call it a night before it got any worse. The rain continued for hours but we stayed (mostly) dry. Sleeping outside in the rain isn't quite as enjoyable as watching a storm from a balcony- it's less spectator and more participant, but we made it through the night unscathed and were given the gift of beautiful weather on Friday.
Friday we had breakfast on the lake, with the rising sun beating onto us. I went for a swim early. The lake was bitter, bitter cold, but after 20 minutes or so it was quite refreshing. And the evaporative cooling once you left was also nice. We relaxed in the sun for most of the day, reading, swimming, and laying in the sun. In the evening we went to Sina's apartment for dinner. Sina's roommate, his brother, her dad, and her boyfriend joined our ranks for a party of 10- we all wandered to the grocery store and got our wares. On their sweet and sizeable balcony we grilled sausages, chicken, veggies, cheese, and more, but the absolute highlight of the night was the Bärlauch brought by Sina's dad. Bärlauch in english is called ramson, wild garlic, or bear's garlic. I'd never seen, tasted, or heard of it before coming to Germany, but I'd never eaten it fresh until Friday. Bärlauch is basically a highly concentrated spread, rich in Vitamin C and tasting sharp-spicy-garlicy. It was fantastic, with bread, sausage, chicken, what have you. Sadly the leaves bloom around mid May and become not so tasty, so that may have been my last chance to eat it fresh. Thanks to Sina for her hospitality and a wonderful evening.
Saturday we decided to do one more day in Konstanz, soaking up rays and reading books. I finished "Der Vorleser" (The Reader). More on that later.
We packed up the camp and headed towards Konstanz for lunch. From Konstanz we rode the train to Teresa's home in Waldshut. Along the way the train passed through Schaffhausen, Switzerland- a new country! We also saw through the windows the Rheinfall, or Rhein Waterfall- huge, and cool, but again, Niagara is 52 m tall and the Rheinfall is 23m. I'm not saying, I'm just saying.
Teresa's home is beautiful. Waldshut is directly on the border of Germany and Switzerland, as far south as one can live in Germany. It's right on the Rhein and one can see Switzerland from her balcony. Her home is perched on a hill overlooking the town, looking south. Again, breathtaking. Saturday night (after showering for the first time in three days) we had a late dinner of garlic bread and tomato-mozzarella salad on their patio by candlelight. Lot's of wonderful beer was enjoyed, and eventually the guitar came out. My favorite song was Nowhere man. Pure joy.
I slept in a bed (!) and we woke to another beautiful day today in southern Germany. We had a perfect, traditional breakfast and hopped on the train back towards romantic Heidelberg. I'm tired.

I said goodbye to Liz again. Each time it's tougher than before, but as we said, it's sad because it's so happy.

So as I mentioned, I finished Der Vorleser yesterday. I got home today and found the movie online. I haven't finished it yet, but a few things have jumped out to me, and they mainly pertain to the adaptation, in general, of a book into a movie. I'm watching this movie directly after finishing the book, and I'm shocked by how subtle a book can be, and by comparison, how blunt a movie is, at least in this case. When the character is well known (I'd spent the last 3 days with them), and the plot is also no surprise, one can analyze other elements more closely. Certain moments, intended to be subtle upon first screening and prophetic upon later screenings, appear slow, unnecessary, and indulging. I don't want to give away anything in the film, but I gained an appreciation today of the power of literature to introduce and guide, as opposed to film's ability, or tendency, to bluntly affront.

Anywho, I hope all is well with everyone. My next trip is hopefully a bike tour along the Neckar to visit a friend studying in Tübingen. It'll be a two day ride with a layover in some little village. Maybe this weekend? Another great thing about the trip this past weekend- excluding food, it cost each of us a grand total of 34 euro. Unbelievable.

The first photo is our view from the campground beach area. The second is a tree on the shore, and the third is the view from Teresa'sliving room. The power plant is in Switzerland.

Love from Heidelberg,

Al

schwarz und gelb! 4-0!

Last weekend I had the absolute pleasure of going to a Bundesliga match. I've been told since my arrival that it is really a memorable experience and one I ought to have while here. And so Saturday morning I rose with the sun to attend Dortmund vs. Karlsruhe SC, in Dortmund.

Attending an American football game, though I never have (except a preseason game) is, I assume, an all-day experience. You wake up, drive to the game, tailgate with beer and brats, then watch the game, and drive home. But I move to remove the label "all-day" from that experience. Because I am assuming that, unless you live far, far away from the stadium, you'll be back in your comfy lazy boy by 10 so you can watch the highlights of the game you attended on ESPN. This was not the case.

I woke up at 6 am on Saturday. I jumped under the shower and threw on my bright yellow polo shirt- to represent the schwarz und gelb (black and yellow). I went to the bakery to get some rolls for the long journey and was in front of Hanna's as the church bells rang for 7 am. We made the 15 minute bike ride to the train station and bought our ticket- a "Schönes Wochenende" (Nice Weekend) ticket that lets you travel with up to five people throughout all of Germany for one day. It's super cheap- for 37 Euro/5, it could cost at cheapest 8 Euro. But it was just Hanna and me, so it was about 20 per. The catch: you can only ride the Nahverker, or local rail. (Very brief primer on German train categories, from slowest to fastest: ICE (300 km/h), IC, RE, S). S is close, but not really, to the Chicago "El" train. The RE is similar to Metra in Chicago. And IC is Amtrak. We don't have anything that compares to ICE.)

So on this ticket we're only able to travel on the slower two. The match started at 15:30, but our connections were going to get us there a whopping 1.5 hrs beforehand. If you're counting at home, that means the journey would be 6.5 hrs of touring painfully slow through the boonies of Germany. Now don't get me wrong, I love Germany. It's why I took one year off of the grueling academic orgy that is my beloved UofC. But when one becomes used to the beauty and efficiency of the upper levels of the Deutsche Bahn, ie ICE or IC trains that whisk you extremely quickly through the countryside, it comes as quite a shocker how long and inefficient the ride is on the less polished underbelly of the Deutsche Bahn. The ride north to Dortmund was planned at 6.5 hrs, with 5 different trains. That is, if we caught each connection. And some were quite close- a layover of 4 minutes. Our expectations were a bit high and we missed the 3rd connection, forcing us to hang out at a train station in the middle of nowhere until the next connection came. We thus made it 1 hr later than planned to the game.

While waiting for our train we met two fellow Dortmund fans traveling north to the game, Tommy and Kevin. Well not really met: they asked us to watch over the case of beer while they found somewhere to pee. But open returning we exchanged pleasantries and got to know each other. They made fun of George Bush and I told them how I shook Obama's hand. Amazing how much that amazes people. But they shed some light on the true hardcore Fußball-Fan life. They had been traveling for 3 hours longer than us, and were each planning on knocking off 12 beers before game time. Accepting their ineptitude, they asked for help and I obliged. I also learned from them the intricate capabilites of the word "tussi". Don't look it up. Supposedly it's quite the offensive word, but the two of them immediately unleashed it on a surprised Hanna. Turns out where they come from, it's a friendly greeting.

So after 7.5 hrs of friendly people, unfriendly people, inefficient trains, beer, smiles, bachelorette parties, and beer, we pulled up to the stadium. It was huge. The smells I miss so much from baseball games were pretty much there, only now I was smelling legitimate bratwursts and beer, not that Miller Lite crap. We entered the stadium and found our seats, in the SW corner of the stadium and literally as high up as you can be. We were in the last row. Not to complain, though- the view of the entire stadium was spectacular and no beer was being spilled onto us from behind. Soccer is also the perfect sport for viewing from afar. In fact I think I'd rather be far away than right on the field, as from high up one can see the movement and geometry so much better.

The game itself was a complete success. We chose this game because it was against Karlsruhe, the single worst team in the Bundesliga, and our chances of a rousing success were high. The first goal game in the 30th minute, and we went to the half up 1, but the second half provided 3 more, including a brilliant free kick goal from Frei.

To the right of us was the famous Südtribüne (south stands), the largest standing room only section in Germany, where 10,000 hardcores were sardined into a space designed for at the most 6,000. They start up the chants and cheer the loudest. At some times they begin to jump high in the air, and the view from where I was of the pulsating, throbbing sea of yellow humanity was breathtaking.

By the end of the game Hanna and I raced out of the stadium, sadly unable to take in the post-match pageantry, to catch the first train out due to our tight timetable. The penalty of missing trains on the way up was to arrive a bit later for the game; the penalty for missing trains after the game would be sleeping in a train station in Nowhere, Germany.

By this point the beers have worn off and my head was pounding, thanks to too much beer, not enough coffee in the morning, and not enough overpriced sausage at the game. The ride home is a bit of a blur to me, but it was a nasty combination of exhaustion, pounding headaches, aching hunger, and loud and rowdy Karlsruhe fans. That's right: somehow a team can be smashed 4-0 and be assured to be demoted to Bundesliga 2 after the season yet still retain fans that will ride the train 20 hrs in one day to cheer them on, all the while singing and dancing in their honor. It blows the mind.

But we soldiered on home, following a rough approximation of our itinerary, and made it to Heidelberg at 1:30am. We rode bikes home and I ate a piece of bread with butter. The stomach only got angry for teasing it, so I dug through the change bucket for the 3.70 needed for a kebab. I crashed and slept until 2 the next day.

As promised, it was quite the experience. Ich dank dir, Hanna, für einen von den besten Tagen meines Aufenthalts.

Next weekend camping on the Bodensee!

Hope all is well. Love, Al.

(ps, good enough for you rob? it's even sport themed.)

busking report 6. May

I played the Marktplatz today, just outside my apartment. I sat on the north side of the fountain where multiple cafes have set up outdoor seating. Highlights:

-a group of young men walked past me a few times- at first, kind of making fun and laughing, and slowly quieting down after the third pass. Then they huddled up and went through their wallets, dropped a few coins in and hustled off. I said thanks and then looked- I was the proud recipient of 1.85 francs. Thanks.

-a large spanish group of students on a tour through heidelberg stopped in front of me and a group of about 6 girls sat down in front of me. I got a request for Bob Dylan and fulfilled it with "dont think twice it's alright". They seemed happy. Later they came back and tried to convince their teacher to stay for a bit. I busted out "Can you feel the love tonight" and 20 spanish kids sang along.

-an old army colonel stopped and asked me what state I'm from. I said Chicago. He was from Virginia. Me too, kinda.

-an old lady played air guitar in my direction while i was searching for my next song to play. I nodded and whipped out "blowing in the wind". She walked over and read over my shoulder, throwing down a harmony I've never heard but which somehow worked.

Overall a pleasant experience. It takes a few songs to settle in and feel comfortable. But once I get going it's nothing different than playing in my room, except other people get to listen.

Also, I made 12.02 euro in 1.5 hrs. Not bad!

sing-song schloss sonnenuntergang

(the title is a rhyming german-english hybrid: schloss is castle and sonnenuntergang is sunset)

Monday night Rick, Babsi and I wandered up to the Schlossgarten to play music, drink wine, and watch the sunset. Once we huffed and puffed our way all the way up, we settled into a nice bench and toasted (prost!) the sunset. I broke out the guitar and started singing while the other two wandered around. As you can see the sunset was pretty spectacular, and the view from up there of Heidelberg and beyond is quite nice. I then broke out the tea candles I brought along- at Ikea we somehow decided in October that I'd need 500 tea candles, and I don't want the remaining 350 to go to waste, so I made the mood even more romantic. The sing-song then went into full swing with the Beatles being yelled loudly from the railing towards the sleeping herd of sheep below. My highlight of the night was learning all the words to the Gambler:
you gotta know when to hold em. know when to fold em, know when to walk away, know when to run. you never count your money when youre sitting at the table, there'll be time enough for counting, when the dealins done.
Life lessons abound.
Anywho, a great night, with great people, what more could you ask for?

Love al.

RELAX.

I'm not ignoring you, my beloved public. Chill out, seriously. Stop yelling.

I've just been having a wicked good time here in romantic Heidelberg and am currently hard at work drinking coffee out my new press and reading Brecht.

A long post is in the works, detailing all the awesome stuff I've been up to.

Until then.

Love, Alex.

(happy may!!!)

ps. The photo is me standing next to a memorial to asparagus. Seriously.