Monday, November 9, 2009
Noch mehr Stolpersteine
The Badische Zeitung had an article a few weeks ago about Marlis Meckel, the remarkable woman who initiated Freiburg's participation in the Stolperstein project seven years ago. In 2002, without the city's sanction, she laid down the first brass block, 62 years to the day after the deportation of a few hundred of Freiburg's Jews to Gurs. Freiburg now has 330 Stolpersteine.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Making purchases, lesson II
Elias has a book of very short children's stories in German, by Werner Färber. In one of the stories, a customer enters a small village store and asks for some peace.
"You'd like some peace?" the proprietor asks.
--"Yes please. I need it urgently."
"Do you need a lot?"
--"As much as possible."
"Whole or sliced?"
--"Whole, please."
"Alright. How much do you want to pay?"
--"Price is no object. I just need enough."
Were you paying attention during the previous lesson on making purchases? Do you remember what the proprietor and the buyer are supposed to say next? Check your notes before reading onward!
Ready? The answer is:
"Darf es ein klein wenig mehr sein?" ("Is it OK if there's a little more [than you asked for]?")
--"Aber sicher. Gerne. Wenn das geht" ("But of course, sure, if that works.")
Did you get it right? Then you're ready to shop in Germany!
Eventually the seller gets ticked off because the buyer doesn't want the seller to wrap the piece of peace for him. That apparently violates transaction etiquette in small village stores. Happily, in green-city Freiburg, sellers don't mind if buyers don't want things wrapped.
"You'd like some peace?" the proprietor asks.
--"Yes please. I need it urgently."
"Do you need a lot?"
--"As much as possible."
"Whole or sliced?"
--"Whole, please."
"Alright. How much do you want to pay?"
--"Price is no object. I just need enough."
Were you paying attention during the previous lesson on making purchases? Do you remember what the proprietor and the buyer are supposed to say next? Check your notes before reading onward!
Ready? The answer is:
"Darf es ein klein wenig mehr sein?" ("Is it OK if there's a little more [than you asked for]?")
--"Aber sicher. Gerne. Wenn das geht" ("But of course, sure, if that works.")
Did you get it right? Then you're ready to shop in Germany!
Eventually the seller gets ticked off because the buyer doesn't want the seller to wrap the piece of peace for him. That apparently violates transaction etiquette in small village stores. Happily, in green-city Freiburg, sellers don't mind if buyers don't want things wrapped.
Saturday, November 7, 2009
Kandinsky wore Wadlstrümpfe!
Exciting news to report today: my first sighting of honest-to-goodness Wadlstrümpfe, and on the legs of none other than Wassily Kandinsky himself, one of the pioneers of abstract art in the 20th-century! The dark green calf-stockings were captured by Gabriele Münter in her 1912 painting, Kandinsky mit Erma Bossi am Tisch ("Kandinsky at the table with Erma Bossi"). The table in the painting was in Münter's house, in Murnau, in Oberbayern, so I'm guessing the Wadlstrümpfe were the real Bavarian thing.
One of the swell perks of living in Freiburg is that when your kid learns about a European artist at school, like Elias is now learning about Gabriele Münter, it's often possible to hop in the car and, within a few hours' drive, see original works by that artist. Thus it was that Elias and I drove an hour north to Baden-Baden today, to visit the the Museum Frieder Burda for an exhibit of works by artists of the group Der Blaue Reiter--Marc, Macke, Kandinsky, Münter, Jawlensky, Werefkin, Klee, and Campendonk. (Stefan, alas, could not join us, as he's busy being an academic in California this week.) The beautiful, airy museum was built by publishing heir Frieder Burda to house and make public his art collection. The paintings we saw today were on loan from the Städtische Galerie im Lenbachhaus in München.
Baden-Baden, like Badenweiler and all the other Bad- and Baden- towns around here, has been a popular spa town since Roman times if not before. The name Baden-Baden means "Baden-in-Baden" (like "Freiburg im Breisgau"), meaning "the town Baden that's in the state Baden." It's like saying, in the U.S., "Rochester, Minnesota" versus "Rochester, New York."
As we walked to the museum, we passed through the Trinkhalle, where Elias tried a sip of the healing waters.
Friday, November 6, 2009
Ticino wrap-up
On the way from Sonogno out of Val Verzasca last Saturday, we stopped twice: first, at the church in Brione, and second, at the bridge in Lavertezzo.
Brione's church of Santa Maria Assunta dates to the 13th century, the interior frescoes to the 14th, and the church tower to the 16th. Our ADAC guidebook supposes that the fresco of the Last Supper must have represented a tantalizing dream for generations of impoverished valley residents: the table is laden with abundant bread and wine, steaming bowls of soup, and a whole lamb. An exterior fresco under the steeple clock memorializes that the extension of the tower in 1884 was funded by prospering Ticinesi emmigrants to California, as a gift to their friends and families back home.
Further down the valley, we and several other gawkers were wowed by the giant water-polished boulders in the Verzasca River in Lavertezzo. A double-arched stone bridge, the Ponte dei Salti, spans the river. It's a reconstruction, as a 1906 flood destroyed the original medieval bridge.
The central lesson we learned on our way out of Switzerland is that there's way more traffic on Saturdays than on Tuesdays. While we only needed a couple of hours to drive from Freiburg to Airolo, we needed the better part of the day to get out of Switzerland. There were traffic jams from Locarno all the way past Luzern. Normally, taking the St. Gotthard tunnel is faster than going over the pass. Fortunately, the pass was open last weekend, so we were able to combine sightseeing with avoiding the two hour long, automobile-exhaust-saturated wait to get into the tunnel.
Brione's church of Santa Maria Assunta dates to the 13th century, the interior frescoes to the 14th, and the church tower to the 16th. Our ADAC guidebook supposes that the fresco of the Last Supper must have represented a tantalizing dream for generations of impoverished valley residents: the table is laden with abundant bread and wine, steaming bowls of soup, and a whole lamb. An exterior fresco under the steeple clock memorializes that the extension of the tower in 1884 was funded by prospering Ticinesi emmigrants to California, as a gift to their friends and families back home.
Further down the valley, we and several other gawkers were wowed by the giant water-polished boulders in the Verzasca River in Lavertezzo. A double-arched stone bridge, the Ponte dei Salti, spans the river. It's a reconstruction, as a 1906 flood destroyed the original medieval bridge.
The central lesson we learned on our way out of Switzerland is that there's way more traffic on Saturdays than on Tuesdays. While we only needed a couple of hours to drive from Freiburg to Airolo, we needed the better part of the day to get out of Switzerland. There were traffic jams from Locarno all the way past Luzern. Normally, taking the St. Gotthard tunnel is faster than going over the pass. Fortunately, the pass was open last weekend, so we were able to combine sightseeing with avoiding the two hour long, automobile-exhaust-saturated wait to get into the tunnel.
City seal
The Freiburg Stadtarchiv has a collection of Freiburg city seals and stamps dating back to the 13th century. A seal from 1245 depicts the town wall with three archways, three towers, two watchmen blowing horns, four stars, a fleur-de-lis, and the text, "SIGILLVM:CIVITATIS:DE VRIBVRCH IN BRISGAVDIA:" ("Civic seal of Freiburg im Breisgau"). Copies of the seal can be found all around the Altstadt on the charming manhole covers, bearing the less regal text, "Kanalisation Freiburg i. Br."
The 13th-century values represented by the logo became a life-sized physical reality (minus giant horn blowers) in 1895-96, with the construction of the Wasserwerk building on a hill above Wiehre (along the southern edge of Freiburg). Presumably the manhole covers then followed as part of the new water works branding concept. The building is known as the Wasserschloessle because it's too small and too kitschig to be a Wasserschloss.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
A Bfund Kadoffen
Elias and I had a date in the Altstadt yesterday afternoon: we caught the new Pettersson und Findus movie at the Harmonie Kino and then had dinner at our favorite cheap restaurant, Euphrat.
On the way home, we stopped by the Thalia bookstore, where I coveted but did not buy the Alemannisches Wörterbuch für Baden. I'm starting to think of suitcase space and schlepping things back to the U.S., and it's a big book. I suppose it would have to be, considering that there are fifty different ways just to say "potato." So instead, I went for a small pocket paperback entitled Bairisch: das echte Hochdeutsch (Bavarian: the real High-German), by Richard H. Kölbl.
The book offers a fine sample dialog on buying potatoes at the market, which I quote in its entirety (English translations added) because of what it tells us about both potatoes and market transactions in Germany:
Biddsche, wås deafsn sei?
Bitteschön, was darfs denn sein?
[Please, what would you like?]
I hädd gean ā Bfund Kadoffen.
Ich hätte gerne ein Pfund Kartoffeln.
[I'd like a pound of potatoes.]
Woiche woinSn då? De fesdn odā bißl woachāre?
Welche wollen Sie da? Festkochende oder weichere?
[Which kind would you like? Those that hold together when cooked or those that are soft (waxy or starchy)?]
De fesdn hädd i gean ghabd.
Die festen, bitte.
[I'd like the waxy ones.]
Deafs ā wengāl mearā sei?
Darfs ein bisschen mehr sein?
[Is it OK if there's a little more (than a pound)?]
āja freile.
Natürlich.
[Yes, sure.]
HåmS sunsd no ān Wunsch?
Darf es noch etwas sein?
[Do you desire anything else?]
Nā, dangsche, des wārs.
Nein, danke, das wärs.
[No, thanks, that's all.]
Dann machāds drei Eiro grådaus.
Genau drei Euro, bitte.
[That comes to three Euros even.]
(pp. 98-99)
What can we learn from this conversation?
First, observe the unit of measurement, ā Bfund. In the U.S., we are taught that there are 2.2 pounds per kilogram.* In Germany, however, ein Pfund is half a kilogram, an even 500 grams rather than 454 grams. To an American like me, that's kind of like saying π is 3.2 (which, regrettably, is an American sort of thing to say), but if you try to discuss this with, for example, your Bavarian husband, he gets all defensive. For marital harmony, we agree ā Bfund is not a pound the world around.
It's a moot point, anyway, as demonstrated by the question, Deafs ā wengāl mearā sei? It's not uncommon that when you ask for a certain amount of something, say 100 g of olives, the stall proprietor puts a 200 g scoop into a bag for you and then asks if the extra amount is OK. The good thing about this is that the proprietor has much more experience weighing olives than you do, so he knows that when you said 100 g, you really meant 200 g.
Next, observe that the exchange includes a pivotal question: De fesdn odā bißl woachāre? In Germany, every potato has a role to play, a function to fulfill. It is vitally important to know what kind of potato to use for what situation. Perish the thought that you would use woachāre Kadoffen for a casserole, or fesdn for mashed potatoes. Be prepared for blank stares when you say you intend to bake them. Germans probably bake potatoes as often as they bake pie, which is to say, close to never. The proprietor may have to consult with her colleague, but in the end you will get the best potato for the job.
Finally, notice the price: drei Eiro grådaus. While the requested vs. proffered amount of olives might differ by a factor of two, it's easy to be more precise when weighing potatoes. At most you now have maybe a Pfund and a quarter. Dialect aside, you know you're in Bayern, and not in the fruit-basket of Germany that is Baden-Württemberg, when a little more than a Pfund of potatoes costs a whopping three Euros. Note also that it costs exactly three Euros, despite the bit of extra weight. Costs often get rounded down for ease of transaction--one of the pleasant bonuses of shopping at farmers' markets.
*On Earth, anyway, where, conveniently, both Germany and the U.S. are located. A pound is a unit of weight. A kilogram is a unit of mass--as is, apparently, ā Bfund.
On the way home, we stopped by the Thalia bookstore, where I coveted but did not buy the Alemannisches Wörterbuch für Baden. I'm starting to think of suitcase space and schlepping things back to the U.S., and it's a big book. I suppose it would have to be, considering that there are fifty different ways just to say "potato." So instead, I went for a small pocket paperback entitled Bairisch: das echte Hochdeutsch (Bavarian: the real High-German), by Richard H. Kölbl.
The book offers a fine sample dialog on buying potatoes at the market, which I quote in its entirety (English translations added) because of what it tells us about both potatoes and market transactions in Germany:
Biddsche, wås deafsn sei?
Bitteschön, was darfs denn sein?
[Please, what would you like?]
I hädd gean ā Bfund Kadoffen.
Ich hätte gerne ein Pfund Kartoffeln.
[I'd like a pound of potatoes.]
Woiche woinSn då? De fesdn odā bißl woachāre?
Welche wollen Sie da? Festkochende oder weichere?
[Which kind would you like? Those that hold together when cooked or those that are soft (waxy or starchy)?]
De fesdn hädd i gean ghabd.
Die festen, bitte.
[I'd like the waxy ones.]
Deafs ā wengāl mearā sei?
Darfs ein bisschen mehr sein?
[Is it OK if there's a little more (than a pound)?]
āja freile.
Natürlich.
[Yes, sure.]
HåmS sunsd no ān Wunsch?
Darf es noch etwas sein?
[Do you desire anything else?]
Nā, dangsche, des wārs.
Nein, danke, das wärs.
[No, thanks, that's all.]
Dann machāds drei Eiro grådaus.
Genau drei Euro, bitte.
[That comes to three Euros even.]
(pp. 98-99)
What can we learn from this conversation?
First, observe the unit of measurement, ā Bfund. In the U.S., we are taught that there are 2.2 pounds per kilogram.* In Germany, however, ein Pfund is half a kilogram, an even 500 grams rather than 454 grams. To an American like me, that's kind of like saying π is 3.2 (which, regrettably, is an American sort of thing to say), but if you try to discuss this with, for example, your Bavarian husband, he gets all defensive. For marital harmony, we agree ā Bfund is not a pound the world around.
It's a moot point, anyway, as demonstrated by the question, Deafs ā wengāl mearā sei? It's not uncommon that when you ask for a certain amount of something, say 100 g of olives, the stall proprietor puts a 200 g scoop into a bag for you and then asks if the extra amount is OK. The good thing about this is that the proprietor has much more experience weighing olives than you do, so he knows that when you said 100 g, you really meant 200 g.
Next, observe that the exchange includes a pivotal question: De fesdn odā bißl woachāre? In Germany, every potato has a role to play, a function to fulfill. It is vitally important to know what kind of potato to use for what situation. Perish the thought that you would use woachāre Kadoffen for a casserole, or fesdn for mashed potatoes. Be prepared for blank stares when you say you intend to bake them. Germans probably bake potatoes as often as they bake pie, which is to say, close to never. The proprietor may have to consult with her colleague, but in the end you will get the best potato for the job.
Finally, notice the price: drei Eiro grådaus. While the requested vs. proffered amount of olives might differ by a factor of two, it's easy to be more precise when weighing potatoes. At most you now have maybe a Pfund and a quarter. Dialect aside, you know you're in Bayern, and not in the fruit-basket of Germany that is Baden-Württemberg, when a little more than a Pfund of potatoes costs a whopping three Euros. Note also that it costs exactly three Euros, despite the bit of extra weight. Costs often get rounded down for ease of transaction--one of the pleasant bonuses of shopping at farmers' markets.
*On Earth, anyway, where, conveniently, both Germany and the U.S. are located. A pound is a unit of weight. A kilogram is a unit of mass--as is, apparently, ā Bfund.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Lago d'Efra
In Val Verzasca, we spent two nights at the end of the road in Sonogno, a small but relatively swanky village, as manifested by its adequate street lighting, tidily cobblestoned roads, and open-air ice hockey rink. On Friday, we parked the car one village to the south, in Frasco, and hiked from the church up to Lago d'Efra on Alpe dell'Efra. Even frozen, the tarn was a radiant glacial blue.We started our trek mid-morning and were in the shadow of the mountain until the early afternoon. We hit shade again as we approached the final ridge before the lake. At lower elevations, the shade just meant a little less light; at the higher elevation, it meant the trail was slick with ice and ice-glazed snow. Elias, who is part mountain goat, remained upright and on two feet on the icy part of the steep descent, as did Stefan; I, on the other hand, chose a proactive approach and cleverly cheated gravity by lowering my center of mass from the get-go.
Elias is developing a good eye and steady hand for photos; the shot of the twisted trees is his.
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