Hangin' In and Where I've Been

For the one of you that still looks at my blog from time to time, yes...I'm still here. I don't have that much to say these days. Unusual for me. I have several projects on the go, both real and imaginary and as such have lost my will to write. Wait. That would never happen! Perhaps just my motivation, inspiration, and energy have temporarily gone in other directions. For example, I have been planning ahead (far ahead I hope) and have been composing the story of my life in three pages. I decided three pages will suffice to give an overview, and give me the last word. After all, people will be wanting to rush to get to the funeral sammaches.

I've also been studying our house to see what I might do to brighten and refresh the place. It's too beige and too boring. It makes me sad. I don't like boring and beige is so 1990's. I must say though that the modern florals and stripes with florals on florals and more stripes are not going to happen in this house.

Here's a follow up to my hive blog. I have hives. Did I mention that? I have had hives since the new year. After endless doctor visits, it has been determined that I have hives and am fortunate that they have improved slightly. "Some people have them for ten years," I was told by the allergist, in what she surely thought was a reassuring voice. Then she added, "You've only had them for 3 months." Wow...I felt so much better. Clearly I had won the hive lottery in some way. Or had I? After all, I still have them and now we're heading into the fourth month of 2016.

Tonight as I was bathing, I decided that I had probably sung and danced to Elton John's "Crocodile Rock" once too often. My decollete area (this word sounds better in French and the area looks better on a 25 year old), felt as if it were covered in scales. I keep thinking if I ignore the hives enough, they'll give up. No such luck. In fact, they rather multiply and become more persistent when I do that. They clearly demand attention.

A few weeks ago, at Easter time to be exact, we were in Germany. Their spring season has been delayed much as ours has, but nonetheless, it was a wonderful trip. We had great, albeit short visits with family. Here are a couple of my favourite photos. The first is the historic house in which I was born (historic because it was built in the 1500's not because I was born there). The second is a picture of the Schlosspark. On the hills toward the back of the picture lie two castles Windeck and Wachenburg. Hubby mentioned he'd never been up there despite previous visits. I was surprised, so we travelled to both castles, partial drive, partial climb. Needless to say, my knees launched a protest and the fitbit easily hit 13,000 steps that day.

Here's a view of my birth town looking down from one of the castles. Pretty isn't it?

I was fortunate to come away, as always, with some decor ideas, a few new recipes, and an idea of what hubby would really like for his birthday this year.

I Have An Organ To Grind!

****WARNING - Content may be interpreted by some "twisted minds" as offensive. On the other hand, if you've read even just one page of "Fifty Shades of Grey", not to worry.

I have some kind of weird fascination with organ grinders. I'm referring of course to the street performers. They have been a recurring theme during the last few years of my life, so I began taking photos and reading what I could to learn about this occupation. Apparently, in the latter part of the 19th century, organ grinders were considered people of ill repute or persons coming from the lower classes. They were most likely lumped into a category with gypsies and snake oil salesmen. I believe that nowadays, they would be considered more of an entertainer, a busker.


After my interest was piqued, I did a bit more research on this subject. I learned, for example, that there was an endless variation in the size of the organ. The grinder was a man, with a medium sized organ balanced in front of him. Sometimes, he required a strap around his neck to hold the organ, leaving one hand free to crank and the other to steady the organ. The organ would be cranked in a public place. He would often move from place to place in order to avoid being arrested. He would usually put a tin cup on top of the organ, or in the hand of a companion or animal, who helped solicit payments for his performance. There was an endless variation in the size of the organ. Larger organs were usually mounted on a cart, although some organ grinders were known to carry an instrument weighing over one hundred pounds. Impressive!

In the U.K., organ grinders were once considered beggars or nuisances. In Paris, they were licensed and in New York City, street organs were banned in 1936. Adolf Hitler also banned them in Germnay. I read someplace that he didn't care for them. On the other hand, it probably had something to do with the children's opera "Brundibar" about an evil organ grinder who was said to represent Hitler himself. 

 

 I realized on my vacation this past summer that there was something very familiar looking about the organ grinder above on the left. When I looked through my picture archives, I located the photo on the right, taken in 2008. Not much difference except that he's a bit older and now has a stool on which to rest between performances. Also, he's added an umbrella and a monkey to his repertoire. He seems to have found himself a lifelong lucrative spot at the Deutsches Eck.

Interestingly enough, I have only seen organ grinders in Germany and here, at a German Christmas market. This particular one was at the Christkindl Markt, Kitchener. He was quite entertaining. His organ was impressive although his monkey was a bit of a disappointment.

Oh The Toilette!

Perhaps it was just that I didn't know where to find them. Or maybe it just seemed that they were few and far between whenever I was searching. Somehow, I didn't always find WC's very easily or inexpensively.

 

For one thing, it's necessary to have a supply of change available when travelling in Europe, particularly on the autobahn. Here are just a few of the tickets I purchased in order to use the rest room at service centres. Add insult to injury, the stubs claim that I paid half a Euro per visit when in fact, it was necessary to deposit 70 cents into the turnstiles.  

                                          

               







                                                        
In many public places and attractions there are attendants which expect a payment deposited onto a saucer, usually 50 cents.

When dining in a restaurant, the facilities were usually free. In fact, I found some of the entrance doors to the rest rooms to be more than entertaining, if not obvious...almost worth paying for.

 

 And then of course, for man's best friend...

 

 

Germany for Tourists...water and other libations

Whenever I used to request water in a restaurant in North America, my dad would say, "Not me, water is for washing." It seemed odd and I ignored it. I often asked why he would say such a thing. His answer was simple and always the same, "because it is." It wasn't until I first went to Europe, a place he left when he was twenty, that I made the connection.

Ordering water in a restaurant in Germany is a bit different than here. You get a glass or bottle of  "sprudel" which is comparable to Perrier, seltzer or sparkling water and is available in regular or medium. I'm unclear as to the difference as the bubbles seem to be the same. Perhaps, the sodium content (natrium) is different. It is often listed as "mineralwasser" on the menu. Some restaurants, but not all have "still" water which also comes in a bottle. Tap water, although safe to drink is not commonly consumed. After all, "water is for washing".

When shopping in a grocery store, "still" water usually has a pale blue cap. It's important to read the label and actually see the word "still" if this is what is desired. Otherwise, if it says "Kohlensäure" it will contain carbonic acid. As you can see, it's inexpensive. There is a bottle deposit.

 

Soft drinks tend to be costlier. Surprise of surprises however, wine, beer and other forms of liquor are extremely inexpensive. In fact, people often drink "sekt", a form of bubbly wine to which we often give the name, champagne. Cappuccinos, lattes and coffee are also commonly consumed and readily available.

Here's an example of a restaurant drink menu. Schorle is usually a thinned down or spritzer version of a drink. For example Apfelschorle is a popular form of apple drink.

 

So on my last trip, I learned not to request "Wasser" lest I receive a bubbly, effervescent liquid. Instead, when not in the mood for beer or cappuccino, I asked for "Stilles Wasser bitte". Hopefully, nobody thought I was planning on washing with it.

 

 

In Search of Halloween

"Do they have Halloween here in Germany?" I asked. Then I held my breath remembering that I had packed my "Happy Halloween" shirt and witchy nail stickers.

"Yes, they seem to have adopted yet another piece of foolishness from America. It's been growing in acceptance and has been here for about two years." replied my cousin.

With that information in hand, I set out in search of Halloween in Germany. Here are some of the things I found.

A store window contained a pumpkin and a number of chickens. Nothing says Halloween like chickens.
                    

This restaurant owner made certain all the bases were covered... signs in several languages, orange-ish table cloths and a Jack-o-Lantern. 

Interesting menu choices on a pumpkin shape. Yum...pumpkin chili.

                 Unusual Halloween baking...punschdessert.

And finally, there was the definitive bearded witch.

As much as I tried, I really didn't find a lot of evidence of Halloween. What I found, was something quite different. It was something that I didn't expect. It was something I didn't see, but rather, heard. I heard church bells. Services were being held all over Germany in honour of something more important than Halloween. It was Reformation Day. Yes, I saw a sprinkling of trick or treaters. Yes, there were those individuals who sat at home. There were also many, many people, walking toward churches to celebrate. It was at church on the evening of October 31st that voices joined together and loudly sang, "A Mighty Fortress is Our God". That was how large numbers of people spent Halloween in Germany.

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Daring to Make Dampfnudeln

I remember several meals that my family ate when I was young. My parents didn't have a lot of money, so some of our dinners consisted of cream of wheat and fruit; boiled potatoes and cottage cheese; rice and canned meatballs; salad, eggs and pan fried potatoes; pasta and weinschaum; soup and bread and finally, dampfnudeln with sauce. Sometimes, meals were variations or combinations of the above. Dampfnudeln with weinschaum (wine sauce) were by far my favourite.

"Dampfnudel" (pl. dumpfnudeln) is translated literally as "steamed noodle". It is not a noodle, but rather a type of white bun with a crusty bottom, eaten as a meal or as a dessert in southern Germany. It is cooked in a pan using steam on top of the stove. Then, it is supposed to look like this...with emphasis on "supposed to". These photos were taken at a German bakery just before I consumed their potato soup, dampfnudel and wine special of the day.







                                             

                                                                                        

Mom did not make the dampfnudeln often. Once or twice a year when she did, they were a special treat. I got the impression that they were a lot of effort, because there seemed to be frequent moans eminating from the kitchen. Besides that, when mom would appear, dampfnudeln in hand, her hair was always curlier than usual and beads of perspiration were visible on her forehead. I learned to cook many things from mom, but I never learned to make dampfnudeln.

While in Germany, I had the opportunity to spend some time with my Tante, mom's sister. I asked her to show me. I wanted to learn how to make both dampfnudeln and the wine sauce although, as an adult, I can't imagine why anyone would want to eat those things together.

It took me half a day to make dampfnudeln. Now I realize why my mother made them infrequently. In fact, she made them about once or twice a year more often than I probably would have. It has also become more clear why she didn't seem interested in teaching me.

First, I needed to translate Tante's recipe from ye olde German. Fortunately, she was able to tell me everything and I wrote down steps in English. I also photographed the stages.  Although the ingredients are few, it all required much patience, separate bowls, yeast rising moments, helpful hints and stressful anticipation. When we finally completed the shaped dampfnudeln, they were placed on a floured pan. Then, they were covered yet again and left to rise before putting them in a large pot with some oil, some salt and some water, covered with a lid and left to their own devices for a full 30 minutes.

Several people have told me that the most difficult part is to resist the temptation to lift the lid before the time is up. I was not tempted because by this time, Tante had moved on to demonstrating Weinschaum or as we used to call it "Woi soß ". When she insisted that she did not need my help with this sauce, I began to develop some concern about my dampfnudel making efforts. Oh well, they looked good to me thus far. What could possibly have gone wrong?

Tante made the wine sauce, cornstarch, sugar, wine, cooked until thickened. Put in bowl, mix in two egg yolks. Egg whites whipped until stiff peaks formed then added to and stirred into wine mixture. It was finished in no time. Yummy. Perhaps I should have started with something simpler...like this?

It was finally time. Thirty minutes were up. The grand unveiling of my dumpfnudeln. Despite the fact that making these had never been added to my bucket list, I was excited. I now had another thing to add to my life's accomplishments. I could now brag to my family and friends that I know how to make this delicacy. In fact, I could go back home and make dampfnudeln for company. Yes friends, I did it. Here are my dampfnudeln. I'm proud to say that they look almost exactly like the bakery dampfnudel photos above. Well, almost.

I'll Really Miss Him

He was a man of extraordinary intelligence, ability, strength and determination. He lived a worthwhile and honourable life. He was kind and he was generous. His sense of humour was wry. He had a quiet nature. When he spoke, people listened. He accomplished much, saw much and appreciated much. He loved his family and his God.

My dad died today.

As with all people living in Germany in the 30's, childhood brought some difficult conditions. He was forced to give up his dream of teaching when he was a young adult. His residential school was turned into a barracks...WWII had begun. Students were immediately put out of the building and those fortunate enough to have names near the beginning of the alphabet received what coats there were to withstand their trek home in the harsh weather. He was out of luck.

He apprenticed at a radio shop in his hometown of Weinheim where he learned his trade. His official title was "radio technologist". These abilities coupled with his willingness to take risks would eventually elevate him into positions of respect in many companies where he would be sought after for his skills.

At the young age of 20, he said a temporary goodbye to his home, his young wife and child, his family. He went west...all the way across the ocean and across the great country of Canada where he knew nothing of the culture or language. He was sent to B.C. and became a lumberjack all the while carrying with him his dream of working in the technological field. Having ventured a bit too far west courtesy of Immigration Canada, he worked his way back to Ontario. Friends set him up in a mining town...McKenzie Island.

After 6 months, his wife and small child joined him. Besides working in a gold mine, he became the guitarist for the community's Saturday night dance band and repaired radios for the islanders. His workshop was a small shed beside the lake...Red Lake. During these years, he made friends. Some friendships lasted throughout his lifetime. Life was better, language skills were improving, but the intense and stressful working conditions, frequent accidents in the mine and desire to pursue his career caused him to pack up and move his family south.

He arrived in Toronto where his skills helped him gain an entry level position at the Canadian Broadcasting Corp. He worked, educated himself further and developed vast knowledge of the technical aspect of the television industry. He eventually moved his family to a new subdivision called Bay Ridges. It was during this time, that he became one of the founding members of Peace Lutheran Church. He also became a respected employee who often travelled for work. After many years, further opportunities presented themselves. He worked for a time at TVO and evenually became engineering manager at Sony Canada. This resulted in numerous trips to Japan. He continued to travel, work and teach training courses at various institutions including Ryerson. He was a member of church council and managed the church finances for many years.

He enjoyed his hobbies proudly displaying his train collections and his model railroad set. Home was full of music, electronics, books, Scientific American magazines and star charts next to his telescope. There was always plenty of good food and drink and lots of visiting friends. He saw much of the world. He loved the beauty of nature and camping gave him great joy. He admired people who could speak with anyone on any subject and yet, he himself was one of those people.

My dad died today...and he was smiling.

IN THE BEGINNING...

Disclaimer: Any similarity to "characters" real or imaginary is purely coincidental. No animals were harmed in the writing of this blog.

Once upon a time, a child was born to a young couple. They named her Hildegard. It was a fairly common name in the land of bratwurst and beer. Many people chose to call their children (mostly the daughters) Hildegard after a well known nun. Life was good.

One day, the mom visited a mystic of another sort, and was told that their small family would be going on a long long journey.

"Nein", said the mom.

"Nein", said the dad.

"Ja, ja" said the opa and oma enthusiastically, since the couple was living with them at the time.

So they said, "Auf wiedersehen" to their family, friends, and homeland, in search of a better life. With only a homemade strudel, $5 and a wooden trunk holding all their worldly possessions, off they ventured. Their long journey took them to a country known to them as Kanada. Here, the family moved onto an island in a small lake. They were very happy to own not one, not two, but three small houses, one of which was their very own outhouse. Life was good.

After her 5th birthday, little Hildegard was able to begin her formal education. Her parents told her to walk to school using a shortcut across the lake. Sometimes, the lake was even frozen. As the mom was coming home from the supermarket one day, she encountered a bear. The bear was angry. The mom ran. Later that night, she went to use their other little house and discovered that it had been overturned by a group of hooligans, or perhaps another bear. It was time to move to the big city.

"Nein" said Hildegard.

"Meow" said the cat.

"Ja, ja" said mom and dad.

So they said, "Auf wiedersehen" to their friends, shot the dog, waved goodbye at the cat, and left the island in search of a better life. With only some homemade sauerkraut, fifty dollars (which they got for selling the little houses) and a 1950 something green Chevrolet wagon holding all their wordly possessions, off they ventured.

The long drive took them to a city known as Toronto. The family saw a sign "Flat for rent". It had a room, a kitchen and one "indoor" bathroom which they were very fortunate to be allowed to share with the other two families in the house. Life was good.

Despite being mocked for her odd name, her large brown lace up shoes, and her lack of "show and tell" skills, Hildegard was developing into a well adjusted 3rd grader. She would do her homework dilligently, attend bible studies, and get her own lunches (if eating cherry pie at the local diner counts). One day, in 4th grade, she decided to roller skate all afternoon instead of attending school. Then, in 5th grade, she knocked the neighbour's annoying 12 year old son off his tricycle. In sixth grade, she put gum on the teacher's chair. In 7th, she cut off her hair, wore tight sweaters and started complaining about boys. It was time to move to the 'burbs away from the evil big city influences.

"Noooooooo" said the landlord.

"Noooooooo" said Hildegard.

"Yes, yes" said mom and dad.

So they said goodbye to their friends, their neighbourhood and their city life. With only a homemade bundt cake, a $500 down payment, a 1960 something silver Corvair, and u-haul truck to carry all their worldly possessions they headed for suburbia in search of a better life. Their long journey took them to a place called Bay Ridges. Here, they purchased a brick bungalow with their own private bathroom, three bedrooms, living and dining room, and a kitchen! Life was good.

...to be continued