Tübingen

On Tuesday, we drove two hours to Stuttgart to pick up Stefan's mom, Helen, whose tenant had driven her west from Steinebach to meet us. On the way back to Freiburg, we decided to stop off in Tübingen, location of the eighth oldest continuously operating university in Germany. The university was founded in 1477, some 380 years after Oxford, some 13,000 years after the area was likely first settled, and the very same year (surely not coincidentally) that Tübingen expelled all of its Jews (allowed back in 1850).

Unlike Freiburg, most of Tübingen survived WWII intact. The Altstadt thus includes many original wattle-and-daub houses, the oldest of which date to the 14th century; parts of the Schloss above the Altstadt are yet three centuries older. We thoroughly enjoyed our afternoon meander.

Weihnachtsmarkt

Towns all over Germany know exactly how to drive away the bleakness of interminably gray late-autumn skies: they open festive Christmas markets decorated with thousands of teeny tiny little lights, where you can find Gluehwein and gifts to warm your body and soul against the chill.

Situated primarily around the Rathaus plaza, Freiburg's renowned Weihnachtsmarkt commenced on Monday and runs until December 23. And believe it or not, the clouds parted this week, and the sun is shining upon Baden-Wuerttemberg once more.

I'm usually pretty cynical about capitalism-centered longer-than-advent gearings up for Christmas, but I'm finding the market a pretty and fun place to nosh and gawk. Most of the stalls match one another in size and color, their dark brown stained wood exteriors adorned with stapled-on forest green pine branches. The lights--mostly small white bulbs, but also large, pointed German-Moravian Herrnhuter stars--do a lot to generate cheer after the sun sets (well before 17:00 these days). The goods sold are predominantly (though by no means exclusively) handmade crafts, including functional and decorative pottery, fancy feather-quill pens, brightly colored felted wools and textiles, elaborate cookie press molds, natural soaps, and baubles, toys, and kitchen items made from gorgeous woods. Some items are made on site: hand-dipped beeswax candles, blown glass ornaments, elegant little lathe-turned wooden tops. The food is affordable, and in addition to the satisfaction provided by the mere act of eating, there's also delight to be had watching a vendor make you your very own warm-applesauce-and-cinnamon-sugar-filled crepe hot off the griddle.

Perhaps the most amazing thing about the market is that it turns Germany's natural order topsy turvy. So powerful is the urge to celebrate, so strong are the forces of Christmas commerce, that the impossible becomes possible: the market is not only open daily until 20:30, it's also open on SUNDAYS.

Alongside the market, the downtown Christmas scene has been providing some mild local dramas. Controversies have included how late into 2010 the outdoor ice-skating rink in Karlsplatz will remain open, given the unseasonably warm weather (the compromise: mid-January); and how it could possibly be that merchants on Kaiser-Joseph-Strasse--the snazziest shopping street in all of Freiburg--are too cheap and disorganized to hang decorations on Kajo Street, denying shoppers a treasured seasonal joy for the first time in 55 years (tsk!), while smaller stores in li'l old Herdern have found funds to hang red Herrnhuter stars over a good stretch of Habsburgerstrasse. Public shaming in the media is extremely effective in Germany: the Kajo merchants are putting lights up this weekend.

Not a typical Saturday

Today has been one long day of visual stimulation: Die kleine Hexe, buskers, an anti-Nazi demonstration, and the 54th World Roller Figure Skating Championships (Junior division).

Elias's class is going on a field trip in February to see a stage production of Die kleine Hexe. The play is based on the classic 1957 German children's novel by Otfried Preußler. We'll be back in the states in February, so Elias told his teacher, Frau F., that he regretfully couldn't see the show with the class.

At about 9:45 this morning, Frau F.'s husband rang the doorbell to deliver a note from her: would Elias like to be her guest at the private showing for educators today at 10:30? The answer, of course, was a resounding YES.

While Elias was at the play, I strolled several times through the Saturday farmers' market, admiring the assortment of stalls and carefully mulling all the broccoli, lettuce, and egg vendors before finally making my purchases. And then, suddenly, ringing out from afar: the best busking my ears have ever heard. The Kiew-Brass-Quintett was performing just off the Muenster plaza, drawing an enthusiastic audience and raking in donations for needy children in Kiev. They were goosebumpingly good.

Elias and I returned to the Altstadt later this afternoon on our way to the skating championships across town. As we approached the Schwabentor, we encountered a gathering crowd of several hundred people, along with at least 100 police officers looking mighty intimidating with their big black batons and white helmets. The demonstrators, members and supporters of an anti-fascism group (Antifa), were protesting increased Neonazi activities by the Nationaldemokratische Partei Deutschlands (NPD), including recent bomb making in Lörrach, a city south of Freiburg. The large police presence was in part because the protest was organized without city permits; but two different people on two different ends of the street also told us that "the police and the Left have a tradition of not getting along in Freiburg." Elias and I left before things got ugly.

By the time the clashes started, we were safely away in the Schauenberghalle watching the last day of the junior division roller figure skating world championships. The hall was small enough that athletes and trainers sat mixed with the general public. When we arrived, members of the Japanese team were sitting in front of us, and the Brazilian team behind us. By the end of the evening, we were surrounded by members of the U.S. team.

It was a thorough pleasure watching all those young, athletic, coordinated, bespangled bodies accomplishing impressive jumps and turns. It was interesting to see the difference between the lyrical skaters, the aggressively athletic skaters, and the skaters who could successfully combine artistry with technical prowess. There was no comparison between those who were good and those who were great. Italy's skaters stole the show, from the women's and the men's long programs to the couples free dance; they were followed close behind by skaters from Brazil and France.

The take-away lesson of the evening: if the world championships of anything ever come to your home town, go.

Fortunes

We've been quite busy for the past few days. Rodi and Renate departed Wednesday morning; that same evening, my parents returned from their trip to Italy. This afternoon, Stefan's mother arrived from Munich.

Because my parents and Helen see each other rarely, we celebrated this evening by having dinner at a Tapas/wine bar in the Altstadt. The food was tasty and the waiter quite charmingly entertaining, but the highlight of the evening was the discovery of a Biorhythm scale in the basement next to the WCs. That fortunes could be printed out either "in English" or "in Deutsch" should have been the first hint that the prognostication service, like so many other services these days, was being farmed out to a crew of southeast Asian telephone operators rather than being handled locally. Adding to the entertainment value, the machine was not properly grounded; touching it and the staircase railing simultaneously generated a painful zap. We mentioned this to the waiter, who shrugged and said, "yes, of course."

Elias's lucky numbers for the day were an asterisk. Emotionally, he will feel happy and open-minded for 11 more days; mentally, he has to be "more concentrated" (like frozen orange juice, perhaps) for 9 more days. Stefan has very lucky numbers and is of a sunny and balanced disposition, but he needs to eat more protein. As for me, I'm 19 pounds underweight, but should mix my drinks with simple mineral water because it has no calories. For better or for worse, I will be mentally quick and sharp for two more days.

Overview

Once upon a time, back in the sepia-tinted olden days, Stefan was a student at the University of Hamburg, where one of his friends in the Holzwirtschaft program was named Matthias. Yesterday, Matthias, his wife Bettina, and their kids Jona and Lina visited us in Freiburg. We did the touristy thing and went on a double-loop downtown meander. In addition to the requisite farmer's market shopping trip, Muenster tower climb, Gummibaerchen purchases, and Schlossberg hike, we also enjoyed the annual bread market at the Rathausplatz, where Stefan bought a round loaf a good two feet in diameter, and Elias tried his very first, long-coveted "Spaghetti Eis"--vanilla ice cream extruded to look like noodles, with strawberries (tomato sauce) and grated white chocolate (parmesan cheese) on top.

I'm pleased to report that, having survived climbing the Muenster tower last month, I gamely climbed it again. I learned that it is much easier to climb steep, narrow stone stairs when you do it with other people, as instead of imagining plummeting through the protective wrought-iron fence onto the hard cobblestones several stories below, you are forced to focus on the Arsch ahead of you lest you bump into it.

Which reminds me that Elias's peer-taught cursing vocabulary has progressed from "Mist" ("manure") to the slightly more expressive "Mist Haufen" ("heaping pile of manure"). The Badische Zeitung had an article on Saturday that refered to the pastoral odor of the Bavarian town Wahl, where the early morning air smells specifically of "Kuhmist" ("cow Mist"). Apparently there's a vast array of different Mist bouquets waiting to be smelled in Germany.

The article on the village Wahl (where, barring accidents, they expect 100% turn-out of all seven or so registered voters) was in honor of the national elections (Wahl/Waehlen) being held today. Germans vote on Sundays, when few people work and almost every business is closed, so no one has an excuse not to vote--except Stefan, alas, for reasons having to do with changes of address, non-fucntioning websites, and a slow postal system.

<-- Blooming artichokes, Batman!

Chickens on tour

As I don't yet have access to an organ to practice on, and as the local pottery co-op is closed due to summer vacation, and as my excuse to strike up casual conversations with complete strangers in the park is busy attending summer camp, I'm on the lookout for ways to keep myself busy. Today I went on a short walking tour of the Altstadt, revisiting some of the sights Frau H. showed us last week.

The "Haus zum Walfisch" (Whale House, left) was built 1514-1516 and acquired its name because at the time it was, figuratively, the biggest fish in the pond. When nearby Basel went Protestant during the Reformation, several of Basel's university professors fled to Catholic Freiburg, including the Dutch humanist Desiderius Erasmus von Rotterdam. Erasmus lived in the Haus zum Walfisch from 1529 to 1531.




Two American chickens (right) imagine the view Erasmus might have enjoyed from his front door.





Guarding the door of the house are two waterspout gargoyles. Evil spirits trying to enter the house would have seen these kindred figures, realized the house was already claimed, and moved on to another place to haunt. One of the gargoyles has goiter (left), an illness endemic to the Schwarzwald.



Freiburg has official "sister cities" around the world, including lovely Madison, Wisconsin. Each of the sister cities is represented with a mosaic shield on the cobblestone street in front of one of the two Rathaeuser (right).


The chickens appreciate the hard work and artistic challenges that must go into laying down all those stones, so they don't mind that the mosaic of the Wisconsin State Capitol building doesn't clearly depict the golden badger atop Lady Forward's helmet (left).

No tour of the Altstadt would be complete without a visit to the Muenster. The entrance to the Gothic cathedral is decorated with hundreds of small statues, variously depicting scenes from Christ's life, the triumph of good over evil, important medieval residents, and a range of fantastical creatures. The chickens were unable to get a closer look at the nose trumpeter (right) due to the protective wire installed to keep pigeons away from the statuary.

After wrapping up their brief visit to the Altstadt, the chickens pause at the "Verschmutzung verboten" fountain in Herdern and contemplate the unthinkable (left).

Colmar

This morning, we walked to the toy store in the Altstadt so Elias could buy the handcuffs he's been coveting since we first saw them three weeks ago, when we were staying in Waltershofen and it was inconvenient to load up on Stuff. For three weeks, we've been telling him not to worry, there isn't going to be a sudden run on handcuffs, they'll still be there--and what do you know, they sold out yesterday. The very charming shopkeeper took down Elias's name and promised to set aside a pair for him when the next cuff shipment comes in on Monday.

We then meandered over to the Gummibaer specialty store, across from the Muenster, where the serious Gummibaer connoisseurs and tourists shop, and thus began our new vice. We went for the vegetarian Bearle, of course; for the carnivores, flavors include prosecco, chilli pepper, licorice, coffee ("with caffeine"), and red wine.

This afternoon, we visited Colmar, across the Rhine in France. The third largest city in Elsass (Alsace), Colmar survived WWII with little damage. Fortunately, it also survived an urban planning effort in the 1960s to demolish some of the older parts of town, and the city center, with the photogenic "petite Venise" ("little Venice"), is now a popular tourist destination. Colmar was settled by the 9th century and granted Stadtrecht (city rights) in 1214; its oldest remaining house dates from 1350. I look forward to setting my camera-wielding parents loose in Colmar this fall, as there are photo ops around every corner.

Daily life

We arrived in Freiburg just in time for the start of summer vacation. Elias is attending a day camp for the next two weeks in the hopes of making some friends and becoming more comfortable speaking German.

After dropping Elias off this morning, I walked through the Altstadt and across the Dreisam river to the Freiburg public authorities office and Ausländerbehörde (Aliens Authority). I had tried to visit the office yesterday afternoon, but forgot that in Germany, the day you decide to visit a government office is the day the office closes at 12pm. Because we're living here more than three months, both Elias and I need to apply for visas. Our family also needs to register with the city--even Germans need to do that--so that the city knows we're here and so we can get our garbage collection sticker.

Germans take garbage and recycling very seriously--so seriously that there's very little actual garbage. Paper and cardboard go into one container, glass bottles into another, biodegradable food waste into a third, and all packaging materials (plastic containers, cans, foil lids, etc.) into the "gelbe Sack" (yellow sack). What's left is Restmuell. We share Restmuell space with another tenant in our apartment building; our combined monthly allotment is about two cubic feet. That's not a lot of garbage. The gelbe Sacks, however, fill up fast, so we need that sticker.

After speaking with a friendly woman at the Ausländerbehörde, I made a visa application appointment for September and collected a stack of forms to fill out in the meantime. On my way home, I visited the farmer's market at the cathedral. Locally grown produce is sold on the north side; local and international produce and goods are sold on the south side.

Daily markets facilitate daily shopping. Germans go grocery shopping more often than Americans, in part because the daily shopping habit developed when most households included a stay-at-home wife, and also because most refrigerator-freezers are only about three feet tall. My new rule for buying food: if the backpack is full, the fridge will be full. Also, a kilo of green beans is a heckuva lot of green beans.

Last night, our landlord, Frau H.--a retired Gymnasium English and French teacher and a trained tour guide--took us on a tour of the Altstadt, so thanks to her I know the Muenster has been a market site for at least 700 years. The west tower was completed in 1330; carved into its base are records of the size of a loaf of bread in AD MCCLXX (1270), AD MCCCXVII (1317), and AD MCCCXX (1320). Want to make sure you're getting your money's worth? Hold your loaf up to the loaf outline carved into the Muenster stone. (Click on the photo for a larger image. I don't know if the three white circles are graffiti or other bread records.)

Frau H. also pointed out the very rude gargoyle on the south side of the Muenster. Seems the stonemason was displeased with his pay, so he arranged to have the bishop's house permanently mooned.

Freiburg

We've been in Freiburg for two days now, and are thoroughly enamoured with this city. The vibe is a mix of Asheville, NC, and Portland, OR, with maybe a little Berkeley, CA, tossed in. Freiburg is grungier than Munich, but in a welcome, earthy way. Elias and I have spent two entire afternoons at the Stadt Park near the old city center and have heard people speaking German, English, Spanish, Italian, French, and Russian. The park is the hangout for laid back jam-sessioning musicians, shirtless young men tightrope walking, aging hippies with more blond dreadlocks than clothes, college student frisbee players, bicyclists, strollers, joggers, and to Elias's great delight, lots and lots of kids of all ages. As afternoon merges into evening, the park fills up with more and more people, but it hasn't felt too crowded yet.

I took the photo above (the Vodafone gods are smiling upon our internet connection tonight!) on Sunday evening, so the square around the Muenster was relatively empty. Check out all those cobblestones! The Altstadt streets and sidewalks are paved with stones, many of them arranged into mosaic designs (mostly white borders, but also pictures of faces, coats-of-arms, and scissors). There are also small canals running along many of the streets. The canals are much like the ones I saw in Malaysia when I visited my parents there in 1990, except they're shallower, paved in cobblestones, and not filled with stinky garbage. Yesterday, as Elias was hopping back and forth over one of the canals, I predicted out loud that he would fall in a canal at least once before December. He managed to check that off the list about 10 minutes later, pretty surprised and pretty drenched by his tumble.

We hadn't planned on visiting the square today, but while Elias and I were climbing up and down the Schlossberg this morning (a big hill near the park, with a lookout tower on top), we heard bagpipe music wafting up from the old city. After a month of Lederhosen, I wanted to see kilts, so we walked over to the square after our hike and found--lo!--no bagpipers, but a gigantic farmers market with meter after meter of fruits, veggies, cheeses, breads, meats, jams and honey, wooden shortbread cookie forms, handwoven baskets, jewelry, etc. I guess the sound that farmer's market sirens make to lure wayward travellers to their financial doom is bagpipe music.

And speaking of music, this evening we enjoyed an organ concert at the Muenster: Zuzana M.-Maria Ferjenčiková, from Wien. We were too cheap to buy a program, but I could identify Bach (Aus tiefer Not), Mendelssohn (Sonata No. 4), Schumann (Six canons in the form of an Etude), and Liszt (something with a lot of B-A-C-H). Virtuosic playing, but the Muenster organ makes me appreciate how good the organs at Duke Chapel are.

Other signs that this is going to be a great place to live: tons of bicyclists everywhere; and clean public restrooms. Would you believe the public restrooms in the Stadt Park have a toilet brush in every stall?