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