Christmas Markets - Valkenburg

Starting in mid-November and going through January 6th, the cities and villages in the Netherlands and Germany are laden with bright Christmas decorations, and a visitor or expatriate living in these countries (I’m one of the latter) finds the traditional Christmas markets irresistible.  I decided to go to as many as I could.

I was determined to go to the first one available, especially when my mom  came to visit me in mid-November.  One of the earliest of these markets, and fairly close to the village of Süsterseel, Germany, where I currently live, is the Fluweelengrot Christmas Market in the limestone Velvet Caves, underneath the ruins of Valkenburg Castle in the Limburg region of the Netherlands.

Merry Christmas from Germany!

Merry Christmas! 

Last night, we went to some friends' house (hi Doug and Anna!) and spent Christmas Eve there (and used their washing machine and dryer to wash our clothes) eating raclette and watching Polar Express, which I hadn't ever seen before (delightful movie!). 

It was with melancholy hearts that we left our friends to go back to the hotel, and were greeted by darkened windows--the hotel seemed empty but for our presence.  But as we stepped out of the car and pulled our suitcases out the back, I could hear the faint tones of a pipe organ growing louder as we trudged through the snow to the off-hours entrance of the hotel.  There, across the street and lit by the streetlights was an ancient snow-covered church, its windows glowing warmly from the light within.  We could hear the organ sounding louder, and a choir sang "Silent Night" in German.  We had arrived at 11 pm, in time to hear the songs sung at Christmas Eve mass.

It gave me a lift to hear the familiar song, and this Christmas morning, when we left the hotel to come to the rental house (which we are still cleaning out!), the church greeted us with a caroling of bells for a full five minutes.  "Christmas bells!" I said to John, and he smiled and said, "Merry Christmas indeed."

Christmas is persistent and celebrated with unrestrained joy here in Germany, and I'm glad of it, especially this year.

It's a drag that we're spending this Christmas in a hotel (and a very nice one it is--the Mercator, in Gangelt).  It's more that we're betwixt and between situations that gets me.  Had we stayed longer, I could have Christmas decorations up and kept at least some of the traditions we are used to.  Had we gone sooner, we would be celebrating Christmas dinner with friends and family in our own home.  As it is...well.  None of that can be helped, however, and I am grateful for friends who are willing to take us in and help us celebrate with good cheer and their comforting presence.

What I am glad about (yes, this is still the Pollyanna Files!), is that we had a chance to experience the Christmas season here in Germany.  This, I will miss a great deal when we go back.  There is nothing like the untrammeled, unrestrained enjoyment of Christmas in the U.S. like there is here in Germany and the Netherlands, especially with respect to the Christmas Markets.

We had the great opportunity to experience the Christmas Market in Valkenburg's Velvet Caves (with my mom--post about that later) in the Netherlands, as well as the ones in Cologne, Germany (there are seven of these markets in Cologne!).  The crowds are thick at Cologne's Christmas Markets, especially in the evening, to the point where you literally have to shove yourself through them.  But nobody minds, and there is much toasting each other with glühwein and spontaneous singing of Christmas carols, and children riding carousels and skating in open-air ice rinks. 

Time rolls back through the various centuries you can see in that city, below the medieval towers of the Great Cathedral, through the Renaissance to the more modern buildings. Spread throughout the vendor stalls bright with gifts and Christmas decorations are stalls full of traditional market fare of grilled salmon, stakes of grilled meat, wursts, waffles, stöllen, and various goodies you can eat as you shop.  Cries of "Fröliche Weinachten!"--"Merry Christmas!"--punctuate the murmur of the crowds and the Christmas carols played here and there as you go from individual market to market.

There is no self-consciousness about it, and I think this is what I will miss the most about the German and Dutch Christmas season when I return to the U.S.  So far as I know, there are no "Christmas wars," as there are in the U.S.  It's just a happy time when people are glad to visit friends and family, eat well, shop for gifts, and just have fun.

I was most eager to see the medieval market in Cologne.  I love medieval and Renaissance faires back home, and what could be more traditional than a Christmas market with people dressed in medieval clothing and selling medieval wares, with jugglers and mummers, all in city dominated by a medieval cathedral?  But...more of that, later.  :-)

It'll still be the liturgical Christmas season until January 6th.  With luck, I'll write more about Christmas here.

An Accomplishment!

I'm so proud of myself.  Today I bought more cell phone minutes from the local post office, called up the service number on my cell phone, and keyed in the code, even though both the instructions spoken by the cell phone service AND the cell phone receipt were all in German!  No English!

Okay, so I had to listen to the instructions on the cell phone about four or five times, but I did it and got confirmation via text message that I now have more minutes!  Yay!

Pretty danged good for someone who never took German lessons, if I say so myself.  :-)

Family Vacation!

So I got my lifetime wish at last:  John, Derek, and I finally had our family vacation. The last time we went on a family vacation away from home was when Derek was three years old.  He is now twenty-three.  Twenty years since we've gone on a vacation away from home.

Now we're in Germany and at last, at last we're visiting historical places and going to different cities.

The Beer Bicycle

So, with Oktoberfest at a close, I discover this answer to drinking and driving:

http://www.bierbike-aachen.de/das-bierbike.html

Yes, it's a beer bike.  You rent out this contraption, have a bunch of your friends pedal the thing, while another (sober) person steers it, all the while touring the city of your choice as you all drink beer on tap.

Those Germans think of everything when it comes to accommodating Oktoberfest.

The city of Dusseldorf has decided to forbid the use of these beer bikes (you can't use them without a permit in Dusseldorf), not because of the drinking and driving issue, but because they're slow, and some passengers have fallen off and obstructed traffic (no one killed, though).

No, I have not tried this thing, partly because I'm not sure how many people I can get to go in on this with me, although it does look interesting.

The Alien Child has Arrived in Germany

After a series of mishaps, the boy is here at last.  The incoming Delta flight into Amsterdam was a bit late, and because of customs/security checks, he couldn't run fast enough to make the connecting flight to Dusseldorf at the other end of the airport.  The next flight was full, he missed the next flight because he fell asleep, and then he finally caught the one that arrived at 10:30 pm, a full 12 hours later than he was supposed to arrive.

It was a hassle for us, in that we left home and had to return three times; problem is that it takes about as much time for us to drive to Dusseldorf as it does for the plane to travel from Amsterdam to Dusseldorf, so the first time we ended up waiting a long time, the second time we almost got to the parking garage, and the third time we finally retrieved him. 

He seemed nevertheless to enjoy the extended layover, as it  gave him the opportunity to talk with people from many nationalities  and discuss their culture and beliefs while waiting around in the  airport, as well as explain a few things about the United States (such  as it's not technically a democracy, but a republic; and how there can  be different laws depending on what state you're in, instead of every  state having the exact same laws). In fact, he seemed at one point to  get an international discussion going with a group of people from  various nations regarding culture and politics; I think  he had a British, Dutch, French, German, and Nigerian discussing things.  He tried out the alternative tuning of a Frenchman's guitar, and he also flirted with a Dutch gal.  Since he got some enjoyable international discussions out of it, it's not a total waste.

Still, it's a relief finally getting him over here. 

Going back to the U.S.

Well, we just got the word today:  we'll be going back to the U.S. at the end of December.  We had hoped that we could have stayed until June or so--there were so many places and things we wanted to see and do, and there would have been more than enough work for John to do...if the customer had decided to proceed with the project.  However, governments all over are cutting budgets, and I think the project John was working on was not high enough priority for it to continue.  At least he has a job to go back to when we go back to the States, so that's good.

Still, I had wanted to visit England all my life, but I'm going to have to let that dream go.  I did get to go to Paris, and that was great, although I still have yet to see the Louvre.  Maybe if we get really lucky, we might be able to take a trip back to Europe some day...but...well, we'll see.

I'll have to find a full-time job right away when we get back; there are still college loans to pay, and improvements we should make on our house, not the least of which is a good interior paint!  So there is much work to do be done when we get home.  I hope I get a job very quickly, because I'm also going to have to get a car right away.  It's not like here, in Germany and the Netherlands, where you can get along very well by bicycle or train.  There are no commuter trains back home, not where work is, and bus service is limited.  Bicycling...well, it's very hilly at home, and so huffing and puffing up a steep 200 foot incline is not my cup of tea.

I admit I'm sad and had a small session that involved some tears...I was just getting to know the culture and discovering so many things and making friends!  But I did achieve the dream of going to Europe, and Derek will be here in less than a week and a half, so we'll have a family vacation at last, a dream I've had for the last 20 years (yeah, we haven't had a family vacation in that long).  So that's another thing to be happy about.  Two lifetime dreams achieved.  :-)

Whew.  Well, it's going to be rather difficult going back home, and a bit of a strain on our budget, but we'll manage, I'm sure.  We always do.

Trying to find the Sittard Train Station

So, the Alien Child will be visiting in a few week's time (hooray! A family vacation at last!).  We'd like to take a day trip on the train to Amsterdam, and there is a train route that goes directly to that city from nearby Sittard just across the border in the Netherlands.  We plan to drive to Sittard, park in the Park and Ride garage, and go from there.

But there is one problem:  where is the train station?  More particularly, where is the station parking garage?  Easy!  You go to the Netherlands train web site to find out, right?

Wrong!  Click on the link to the web site.  Try to find directions to the Sittard station.  Not there?  Hmm. How about directions to the parking garage?  Not there, either, or if it is, I haven't found it after more than a couple of hours of searching.  How about just the address of the station?  Nope.  The web site assumes that if you do not speak Dutch, but only speak English in the Netherlands you must of course know where the various train stations are.

Bikerumor Pic of the Day

Hey, one of my photos made it to Bike Rumor's Pic of the Day!  John posted it to his blog, and Bike Rumor picked it up from there.  Is that fun or what?  Bike Rumor has John's name on it, but he has properly attributed it to me on his blog. 

Paris, Part Four - the Tour de France - Fini!

The Tour de France is so much more than is depicted on television, especially on U.S. TV.  The media focus is on the sport, on the athletes, and on who wins and loses.  But being at the event itself...well...the sport is almost only half of it.  It is very much an international celebration, and a celebration of the bicycling culture of Europe more than anything else.

I won't go in depth about the European bicycling culture here, as my dear John is doing that on his own blog.  However, it's very different here than in the U.S.  Bicycling in Europe is an everyday, utilitarian activity, often on "city-style" bikes that have seen better days.  If you want to go to the grocery store or to a local restaurant, you hop on a bicycle in your street clothes (no helmet!) and go.

Paris, Part Three

You can't put such a thing as that poor hurt French girl out of one's mind; obviously I haven't put it out of my mind even now.  But, facts were facts:  we had done all we could, and there was nothing more to be done.  As John and I headed back to our hotel, we discussed the incident, and then tried to think of other things.  It was hard.  When you witness something that shocking, the rational part of you understands the limitations of the situation, of being human, of not being able to do more, and understands that those with medical experience are much more able--should be the ones--to deal with it, and that ordinary civilians could do more harm than good.  But the heart doesn't reason like that, and there is always a bit that wishes, hopes, wonders if somehow you could have done more. And for us, there isn't closure.  We will probably never know what happened to that young woman.

We are old enough to know that unless you move on past something that hurts and is difficult, unless you make the best of what you have, you do no one any good.  It was our first day in Paris, a Friday.  We had Saturday and Sunday, and then we'd leave on Monday.

We would make the best of our stay in Paris.

Paris, Part Two

I noticed that the prior post's map didn't show our route accurately.  Though Google Maps has a train route option, it didn't want to show the train route from Geilenkirchen to Paris, or even show the train route to Aachen to Paris. I mean, really, Aachen used to be called Aix la Chapelle (and still is, for the French), and there is the high speed train from there to Paris.

Paris, Part One

Yes, that's Paris, France, and it means I went there.  :-)


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So about a month or so ago, John suggested that we go to Paris for my birthday, and I stared at him in disbelief because that is what you do when someone hands you the fulfillment of a childhood dream on a plate.   "We could have dinner at the Eiffel Tower," he said.  "Why don't you make reservations?  We could go by train."

I was so floored by this that I didn't even blog that we were going just in case I might jinx it.

J'ai tricoté au Tour de France

Which is my high school French attempt at saying, "I have knitted at the Tour de France." Here is a picture of what I was knitting, a cell phone (or "handy" as they say here in Germany) sock. I'm making it out of wool and silk tweed yarn, using a US size 3 Skacel Addi lace knitting needle and "magic loop" method. Why? Because 1) I kept running out of minutes on my cellphone while it was in my purse and it would get hit on this or that button and dial whatever number without my knowledge, 2) it was the first yarn I picked up and hurriedly packed away before I went to bed last night, 3) and we were going to be sitting there waiting for hours before the bicyclists would whiz by.  Unfortunately, the deep aubergine color (note, I use French for "eggplant") does not show up well in this light. At least the needles show up somewhat (I bought them at the Unraveled Yarn shop back in Federal Way, WA--I also think I might have bought the yarn there, too).

Happy Independence Day - and the Tour de France

Happy Independence Day, all you United States citizens, wherever you may be.

I'm feeling this day more than usual, as I'm not in the States, and I do miss it. On this day at home, we'd be hearing fireworks shot off here and there, sometimes even starting the day before. John would be suddenly seized with a bit of pyromania and have gone on a trip off to the fireworks stand to load up on explosives. I would be fixing something to be prepared on the grill, while our friends would be doing the same. We would often get together with our long-time friends, the Thompsons, and pool our food and our fireworks in a display of gustatory and pyrotechnic indulgence.

Waterloo

You may imagine the excitement I felt when John told me that there was the opportunity on June 20th to see a reenactment of the Battle of Waterloo--at Waterloo in Belgium! He told me this last week, but I didn't mention this on my blog, or e-mail about it to any of my friends (other than the local ones who were going along), just in case mentioning it might jinx it. Yes, that's how anxious and excited I was to attend this once-every-five-years event.

It meant that we had to get up at an ungodly hour of the morning (for me, anyway), get ready, and be at the place where the tour bus would pick us up. The bus would leave at 6:30 am, so we had to be there before that time. But heck, this was research! I would of course get up at 5 am to attend such a marvelous event, no complaints. I already had our lunch packed the night before, and was ready to go, and then the doorbell rang when our ride to the bus (Doug and Anna) arrived.

What the...? And Other Finds While Shopping

Yet another thing that makes this little ol' American gal stop and think, no, you are not in Auburn, WA any more, but in Europe, specifically a European neighborhood grocery store:

Yes, lest you think "Mäusepisse" can't possibly mean what it looks like, there is a picture to let you know that this does indeed mean "Mouse Piss." It is a liqueur that can be found in the liquor section of the local grocery store (all types of alcohol are sold in grocery stores--there are no separate liquor-only stores like we have in the U.S.), and which is made up of milk, vanilla, and (I think) wheat of some kind. And in case you were wondering what that rather phallic-looking bottle next to the Mäusepisse is all about, all I will say is that the label has pictures of happy little sperm swimming about on it.

A Crafty Afternoon

I was feeling rather blah this morning and so mentally debated whether I wanted to go to the craft/quilt afternoon at Margaret's house, but remembered that I was to show Anna how to use her drop spindle, so decided to go. I was glad I did, because it meant I finally finished the quilted pin cushion that I started...I think some months ago. Finished except for the stuffing, that is. So that's all I need to do with that.

Plus, it was very nice just being with the other gals. Margaret is a sweet and lovely Dutchwoman who goes to the same church we do on the base, and she is very much into quilting and does beautiful work. Cheryl, Anna, and Dee picked me up at home, and we went over the border to...I forget where in the Netherlands. I was too busy looking at the landscape and buildings. :-D

I found that Margaret is into New Age spirituality, which is rather cool. I got into that when I was in my 20's, and still do a bit of tarot as well as astrology from time to time as well. And, I have gone to psychics from time to time, these days just for fun to see if they come up with the same things I have. Sometimes they do, sometimes they don't. I keep an open mind on these things; that is, I'll allow the possibilities, even the probabilities, but just because someone says it's so doesn't mean it is. It's always necessary to verify via plain hard facts, observation, and personal experience. All three tell me there may very well be something in it all, but that people are fallible, and there are outright fakes out there. Even the well-meaning and ones who may have something real going can make mistakes. In my humble opinion, always verify, test, and keep records.

Anna got a lesson in using her drop spindle, and she did very well for a first-timer. One of the things most people do is not get enough fiber into the twist while not twisting enough, resulting in the yarn coming apart and the spindle falling to the ground. Though her yarn ended up being thick, her spindle didn't drop to the floor. That's a great start.

Margaret has a lovely home, and she spoiled us rotten by bringing out profiteroles, fruit, crackers, and cookies, in addition to various drinks, including white wine.

I went as far as I could with the quilted pincushion, then switched to knitting some yarn I have had for ages, and which I had brought over. It's a lovely cotton polyester yarn between sport and fingering weight, in varied hues of blue, purple, lavender, pale green, and pastel yellow. I figured I'd knit it in lace.

Yet, I felt restless...I knitted it for a while, and when I returned from the get-together (I had a lovely time--so nice to be in pleasant, cheerful company!), I didn't feel like working on it. Perhaps I need a definite pattern for it (instead of just making one up), or I need something else.

I'm beginning to think that I need to go whole hog on the Irish novel now. I've let it rest and allowed myself some percolating time, and I find that I'm thinking of it more--the characters, and how the story will be structured. I've written a synopsis, but I'm not going to look at it, lest I feel bound to it. It--or the structure of it--is in the back of my mind, and that's where it needs to stay, rather like the original of a house plan. You follow it, but if you have a homeowner (i.e., the muse) who knows what she wants but doesn't quite know how to put it in words, you're going to change the plans. And then there is the terrain, and the affordability...you get the idea. You have a plan, but you have to allow that it'll be modified, sometimes more than you think.

I'm still afraid of rushing it...having done that before, I know it usually means disaster. But I might get my hammer and nails out and take a couple of swings to see if I'm about ready to build that house.

Eurobiking...a start

So, I got myself a bicycle this weekend! It's what's known as a "city bike," which is a 3-speed, sturdy, every-day sort of bicycle that people here in Germany and the Netherlands just ride to do errands, for a little afternoon ride, and so on. It means freedom to me...we only have one car that we trade off on using, and there are times I'd like to go to the local grocery store to pick up a few items, but it's too far to walk and when John's using the car...well, it means I'm stuck. I bought the bicycle from Tanna, a fellow ex-pat, as she hasn't used it in a while, and she will be moving back to the States pretty soon. It fits well, but we'll need to get smaller wheels, as it is a bit of an effort for me with my short legs to get up on the thing. The pedal length and seat height are fine, but the wheels need to be 2 inches shorter in diameter. I can get up on the bicycle if I have one foot on a curb.

The hubby is a bicycling enthusiast, so he not only brought over two bicycles (a street bike and a mountain bike), he started a blog called "Eurobiking Through American Eyes." It's a blog on experiencing bicycling here in Germany and the Netherlands; if you want to know more about European culture vis a vis bicycling, it's a good read and pretty informative. It also has maps.

Me, I'm doing good just to get on a bicycle after years of not going near one. Today, I went for a short ride, not much more than a mile, just to practice getting stable on the thing. Yes, I wobbled a lot, like a newbie. Luckily, the landscape around here is pretty flat, so it didn't take the Herculean effort it would normally take back home in Auburn, WA. Our house in Auburn is on a steep grade, and let's just say it's an effort to walk up it, let alone ride. For me, anyway.

It's easier to bicycle in this part of Europe, in more ways than one. It's not just the flat terrain around here, but there are thousands of miles of dedicated bicycle paths both in the countryside and the city. I have even seen traffic signal lights specifically for the bicycle paths along side the main auto roads, so it's safer. But even in the areas where bicycles and autos share the road, there is a mutual courtesy amongst drivers and bicyclists that ensures more safety than the frankly rude behavior of both in the U.S.

And then there is the bicycle culture itself. Bicycling is a way of life here. Back home, there are three kinds of people who bicycle: those who are in it for the sport, bicycle messengers, and those who can't get any other kind of transportation. If you aren't into bicycling as a sport or as a job (and the messengers are often into it as a sport as well), then chances are good you had a few too many drinks when driving and had your license pulled. You are either in bicycling heaven or bicycling hell--among the blessed or the damned. If you are a heavy middle-aged woman like me, trust me, you will be stared at with suspicion or scorn, sort of the way a heavy woman going into Bally's Fitness gym will be either secretly or outright sneered at for not already looking good in spandex when she first enters the doors. I.e., one of the damned. I've always felt horribly self-conscious riding a bicycle after I hit 40.

In Europe, everyone bicycles. Young, old, thin, fat. Doesn't matter. I've seen white-haired grandmas and grandpas on bicycles riding about just for fun or to go on errands. Kids from toddler age (on bicycles without pedals--they push or walk them with their feet) to teens with their trick bikes. I've seen whole families out for a nice afternoon ride. I've even seen a very heavy woman in shorts bicycling, and nobody cares! It's no different than anyone getting into a car and driving to the grocery store or for a drive out in the countryside. It's just what you do if you want to go shopping or to do some errands.

I do like bicycling, but the terrain and most of all the anti-plump-middle-aged-woman-on-a-bike attitude back home was off-putting to say the very least. But here, there isn't that attitude. My only inhibition is that I'm so out of practice, I'm kind of wobbly on it. That should disappear with a smaller wheel diameter and more outings.

So I went out today and rode a bit on one of the bicycle trails near here, maybe a mile or so. The sun was very bright and warm, and so I was glad when John directed me to the bike trail through the woods, where there was lots of shade. It was beautiful and so peaceful, with birds singing and a slight wind riffling the tree leaves--a real reward for my little effort. Well, it sort of felt like a big effort, because there was still the residual inhibition I had from feeling discouraged from bicycling back in the States, plus I was just not used to it. But once I got on, and we entered the woods, it was quite nice. I'm going to make a point to do this again, and once I get the smaller wheels, I'll make longer trips out to the grocery store, and perhaps even to the Sittard market again. Wish me luck!

Candy that is so wrong...

Who in the world thought giving kids the idea that sticking a plunger in a toilet and then into one's mouth was ever right? Apparently someone did. One more curious item I found at the Sittard Market:

Yeah, that's right. Toilet candy.  Apparently you take one of those plunger-shaped lollipops, lick it, put it into the sour powder in the toilet, then put the plunger into your mouth.

(Face palm)

No, I did not try this myself.  I have my limits.

Hot Love in a German Grocery Store

Today was a gorgeous day--warm on the edge of hot, with a nice breeze--so I ended up contacting Anna H and we decided to go to the grocery store together; shopping is usually more fun when one goes with a friend, even if it's just a run to get groceries. We've shopped in three different countries and for everything from groceries to antiques to fabric.

It is especially interesting when one discovers food or other items while shopping that makes one...pause. These items seem uniquely European. For instance, these items in the grocery store (photo courtesy of Anna H):

These are all teas. The third box translates to "Hot Love."

I was curious about the ingredients, and one of them (forgot which box) contains kola nuts, which used to be an ingredient in Coca Cola (the Cola part, not the Coca, which refer to coca leaves, from which cocaine is derived, believe it or not). So I decided to look it up, and apparently the kola nut is often used to treat whooping cough and asthma, as it's a bronchodilator.

Well, now I must go back and get one of those teas, because after all I do have asthma, and anything that keeps my asthma at bay is a Good Thing. Whether I get anything else out of that tea would be totally beside the point. Totally.

The last time Anna and I went to the Sittard market, there was of course that interesting knife holder we found.

Yeow.

And a prior excursion to a Brunssum, Netherlands market, we saw the following, somewhat sinister, hair salon sign:








A close-up of the poster, wherein the customer looks positively delighted with her brain wash.

When we went to the very delightful town of Monschau for a bit of sight-seeing and (of course) shopping, we encountered this on the side of the town's fire station.

What does this mean? Why is the knight (without a helmet) in armor skewering the rooster? It seems the man is standing on top of a roof. The rooster is either in mid-crow, or its beak is open in surprised pain. Did the rooster crow inappropriately early once too many times? Was the knight so fed up that he climbed the roof, determined to shut the rooster up once and for all? There is a flame-like thing behind the rooster...it could be the rooster's tail, or it could be fire. If fire, perhaps the knight was seized with a desire for roast rooster and, pressed by extreme hunger, did not even bother to doff all his armor, but hurried up and skewered the bird, forgetting to de-feather the thing before thrusting it into the coals.

Your guess is as good as mine.

As a result, I try to keep my camera handy in my purse, just in case I might encounter some interesting item that reminds me that this Dorothy Is Not In Kansas any longer. :-D I forgot my camera this time, but Anna is generous in sharing her pictures, and she sent me the photo of the teas in the grocery store.

Anyway, afterward, we put away our groceries, and I joined her for a lovely few hours of knitting out in her back yard, sipping iced tea and munching on croissant-like rolls with bits of ham in them, cherry tomatoes, and potato chips, while watching the sheep graze in the yard beyond. Altogether a very satisfying day.

Memorial Day

I have constant reminders of the importance of military service where I live now, near a couple of military bases in Germany.  It's not just the military personnel I see on a weekly basis, but the nearness of the reminders of World War II.  In the small town where I live--Süsterseel--right on the border of the Netherlands, there is a monument to the war dead from both World Wars.  Just a week ago, as I drove through the countryside to Aachen, I saw the "dragon's teeth" that were used as fortifications in the Siegfried line, which Hitler had strengthened in reaction to the D-Day invasion (the anniversary of which is coming up soon, on June 6th).  Cows now graze along that line, but the teeth are harsh reminders of those terrible days.

The memories are strong here.  I was talking to Bernard (he attends the Anglican church on base that we also attend) who was living in Rotterdam as a child during WWII, and who remembers the bombing of that city and how he would run and hide under the tables.  "I made friends with an American pilot when it was all over," he said. "They were young pilots, maybe 17 or 18, with hardly any training. They were just told to fly and drop the bombs as close as they could get them to the targets."

A while ago when I asked around about antiques in the Tri-Border area, I was referred to a shop in Belgium, where the elderly woman who owns it will welcome any American who enters as her "liberators."  It's said she always knows who the Americans are as soon as they step into her shop.  She has never forgotten the freedom from oppression when the American Army came through the city of Tongeren.

Not far from there is the Henri-Chapelle American Cemetery, where almost 8,000 of American WWII soldiers are buried, most of them killed during the Battle of the Bulge and during the advance into Germany in 1945.  Across the border from where I live, about 40 minutes into the Netherlands, is the American Cemetery in the village of Margraten.

Even though I grew up in military family, the effect of military service on those other than my own family never really hit me until now.  I knew the sacrifices that my family had to make, the fears, the difficulties we had to go through, the worries. I am a history buff from way back, and can tell you who the movers and shakers were in WWII, and about the battles, the generals.

But the stories here, the stories of the every-day people who grew up in those years of terrible fear and oppression are very close, close enough to touch and to see. Here are the fortifications, there are the bombed-out ruins that are now overgrown by field flowers, and over there are the canals that once served as barriers to troops, now serving as a pond for ducks. The Dutch, just over the border, celebrate May 5th as Liberation Day, the day they were freed from Nazi occupation (they remember the Canadians most fondly for this, as the Canadians were the leading force of this effort), and have a two-minute moment of silence at 8 p.m. on that day. We went to a big choral concert celebration on that day in Heerlen, the Netherlands, and many speeches were made--in Dutch, so we didn't understand all the words!--but it was clear that much of it was about the oppression felt, and the joy of liberation afterward.

The presence of our military made a huge difference in these countries, in real, here-are-the-people-and-places terms. The people who were freed from Nazi oppression have never forgotten the joy and relief when the Allied Army came through, an army made up of soldiers as young as and younger than my own son, honed and fine-tuned to survive trials of war by the severe deprivation of the Great Depression into an army that liberated whole regions.

We in the U.S. are often isolated from this, from the good that our troops have done and do. We only know of the ones who come back, sometimes alive and whole, sometimes not. We hear in the news about how things go wrong, and not how they go right. I understand that after a few years, the enthusiasm for American involvement in WWII dissipated, and Americans believed we should have ended the war and compromised with Hitler and with Japan, even as rumors of the concentration camps began to creep into our news.  I wonder if, because of our isolation from the oppression that Europe and Asia were experiencing, we did not fully appreciate the good that our troops were doing there. 

I wonder if this is so today. I think it likely is.  It is difficult to travel to Dachau and Auschwitz from Seattle, Washington.  It is not difficult to travel there from where I live now (11 hour drive), or understand the real effect our military had in freeing those poor souls interred within.

I cannot express fully how immediate the history of WWII is here. The elders here still speak of it; they still relive that time, the horror and the joy. It still has its effect on culture and population. The celebrations we have of Memorial Day in the United States are pale shadows of what they have here, where real liberation from oppression occurred. Perhaps we should better remember Memorial Day, the sacrifices that have been made by our military personnel, and be glad that we in America have not had to suffer what others have had to suffer, and that there is more good done by our military abroad than we know.

Shopping and Bargain Hunting

Before I post about our next touristy outing, I want to mention the shopping. Shopping in Germany and the Netherlands is a wonderful experience, particularly if you are a bargain-hunting sort of person like me.

First, there are the things you can get absolutely free, if you have no compunction about looking at what your neighbor is setting out on the curb. In Germany, people are apparently not allowed to sell their used items in garage sales (although they do have flea markets where they can set up booths to sell stuff). They have to set it out on the curb on certain days for pick-up. It is totally permissible to take whatever is left out on the curb. As a result, I ended up with a perfectly good bed frame and bed lattice, as well as a nice rug, because I had walked over to Anna H's neighbor's house and asked if I could take them. I have been told that Germans are shy about taking stuff like that during in the broad daylight (they may come by and take them at night), but hey, I'm an opportunistic American and have no shame about getting a bargain.

What happens to those items they leave out on the curb? They're picked up by thrift shop owners. And seriously, you would not believe the bargains you can get there. Antique wardrobes for a pittance. Tables. Beautiful china--I picked up three lovely Bavarian bone china tea cups and saucers (they had gold edges and some lattice work on them) for only 3 euros total. Today I decided to go to the military base library to drop off a DVD and pick up another season of Babylon 5, and because it was close to a Kringloops thrift store in Brunssum, I impulsively went there.

I did not buy anything there today, but dear heaven, I found another amazing bargain: a castle-style spinning wheel in nice working condition, complete with a couple of bobbins and an attached skein-winder. Nothing wrong with it that a bit of oil wouldn't fix. Price? Twenty-five euros. Yes, that's 25 euros. That's about 30 dollars U.S. As a comparison, a spinning wheel like that would cost about $250 to $300. I was sorely tempted to buy it, but I was strong, yes strong, and didn't, because I really do not need another one, and the one I already have is better than the thrift store one for production spinning. But still, my heart beat faster at just being in the presence of such an amazing bargain.

There are also morning markets in various towns and cities. The one in Geilenkirchen (about 9 km/5 miles from here; we lived in the City Hotel there when we first arrived) is not large, but has about 10 to 12 farmers and vendors selling things like fruit and vegetables, meat, eggs, cheeses, plants, candies, and some handcrafts; it opens every Friday morning at around 9 am. The fruits and vegetables are of very good quality, and as for the cheeses, well, the only place I've found cheeses that are comparable in quality and variety are in high-end American grocery stores like Larry's or Metropolitan Market. (With the exception of cheddar. Cheddar seems to be rare here.) I have not found the Süsterseel outdoor market, if there is one. You cannot go wrong buying fresh eggs there, either. Not only are the eggs fresh, but they're of a very high quality. The yolks are high-domed and orange rather than flat and yellow, which points to a high Omega-3 content. The eggs I get from the Safeway at home simply do not come up to this quality, even if they're Grade A. I hate to slag American eggs, but I have to tell the truth here, sorry.

However, it seems that the larger and older cities do have very large open-air markets and from what I understand, each of them have their specialties, whether it is antiques, fabric, pottery, etc.

I want to bring special attention to the Sittard market, which is held on Thursday mornings (except on holidays) from about 9 am to 1 pm. Why? Because I know a lot of people who are fabric and sewing addicts (hi Mom!), and the Sittard market in the Netherlands specializes in fabric and sewing notions. It is the fabric addict's heaven. Here's where it is on the map:


View Larger Map

As you see, it's only 6 kilometers (3.75 miles) away. I could very easily bicycle there, but then I wouldn't have enough room in the bicycle basket to carry the stuff I might buy. If I had a bicycle, that is (which I hope to get soon).  If you click on "view larger map" above, zoom in almost to street level, and then click on the satellite view, you'll see a square almost entirely covered with little white blocks.  Those are the vendor stalls in the main square.  The market includes those stalls and stalls along the radiating streets.  It gives a good idea of how large that outdoor market is.


I went to this one last Thursday, along with Anna H. I had been to this market before about a couple of months ago, in March. It is heaven for people who like to shop. The large city square in which the market operates is edged by more than a few lovely restaurants and cafes, and down the various narrow streets are even more stores to delight shoppers. You could conceivably spend all day there. You could get there at 9 am, have some breakfast at a cafe, shop at the various booths, then retire for lunch, then shop some more at the booths until closing time at 1 pm, and then move onto exploring the other shops on the streets that radiate out from the central square.

The market square is obviously very old, and the market has been going on for centuries. You will find the usual baked goods, cheeses, meats, and vegetables there (very good quality veggies! I have not yet found bad vegetables in any of the markets). However, you will absolutely find lovely fabrics, notions, and amazing bargains. Feast your eyes on this (click on any picture to enlarge):

Yes, you're seeing that right: 1.5 euros per meter (approximately $1.85 per 1.09 yards) for some nice quality polyester cotton, 45 inches wide. There's more.

Though I'm used to going to farmer's markets and street fairs, the Sittard market combines the best of both in things for sale and its weekly occurance.  It has a touch of the exotic in that you will see women of more than a few nations here, as it's in the "tri-border" region of Europe (Germany, the Netherlands, and Belgium), who either work or whose husbands work for NATO, and then there is a sizable southeast Asian population also living in the Netherlands.

As a result, I saw a number of women who looked Indonesian and quite chic and modern, and more than a few Muslim women dressed in their traditional headscarves and long dresses.   I could hear French, German, Dutch, and English spoken, with the occasional Arabic. 
   
Isn't that some lovely fabric? I love the ecru lace.  A group of Muslim women were gathered around this booth (I wish I had taken a picture--their clothes were so colorful!); I wouldn't be surprised if they were looking to buy some for a wedding, or perhaps for a fancy veil.  I touched one of the lengths of cloth and lifted it up to examine the detail, and caught the eye of one of the Muslim women, who was also looking at it.  I smiled, and she grinned and nodded as I held it up and said, "das ist gut."  I thought, it doesn't matter that I can't speak her language, women are alike the world over when they go shopping!

This is just one row among many, which stretches out to about half a football field in one direction (or, it seems like it's that long to me). Yes, quilters, you are seeing some very nice quilting fabric. For non-quilters who want to cheat, there is even pre-assembled lengths of fabric made up of fat quarters.

It's not nearly as large as the Puyallup Sew Expo in Washington State, but keep in mind that this is a weekly market, rather than the yearly event that is the Expo. However, you name the fabric, the Sittard market probably has it. Cotton, polyester, silk, linen; fabric for knitwear, drapery and upholstery fabric--any kind you might think of, including notions and threads for all sorts of sewing machines, including Sergers.

There are non-fabric parts of the market (they sell very nice clothes, too), more amenable to those of a mechanical bent. There are hardware and tools galore, plus bicycle parts. And there are the food vendors.

Of course, Anna and I didn't spend all our time among the fabric. We also shopped for groceries. Don't those tomatoes look luscious?

I bought some Old Amsterdam cheese (tastes like a mild cheddar, kinda sorta), plus two others, some fresh ginger, a ripe pineapple, some Belgian waffles, lettuce, and zucchini, and some other things for dinner.

After relaxing and having a bit of lunch at one of the restaurants, we also window-shopped at some stores off in an alley. I had to go in the shop that featured this:

I had seen this before, when John and I went to the market a week ago (but it wasn't open, as it was Ascension day, a holiday), and I thought, okay, that's so wrong. However, another part of me couldn't help laughing. Anna and I had to go in the store (which turned out to be an upscale household goods and decor store) and get a closer look. The salesman there spoke English quite well, but not idiomatically, so when I said that there was something rather wrong with that knife holder, he assured me that it was their best-selling set of knives. I mentioned this to John when I came home, and he said "yeah, to divorcees."

Hmm.

However, there were other items, much more charming, that I would have loved to have bought, but were too pricey for me, such as this very cute Japanese dish set (the bird is a soy sauce container, the lily pad is a soy sauce bowl, and the fish is a chopsticks holder). The set (one place setting) cost 65 euros, which was too much for me.

Anna noticed that we probably ran out of time on our parking, so we hurried off and luckily left before anyone could see that our time had expired.

I highly recommend the Thursday morning Sittard market if you wish to have a great shopping experience and find some bargains, especially if you're a fiber addict. Since it's in the Netherlands, the chances are good that the vendors speak pretty fluent English, and if they don't then the very friendly Dutch customers do and sometimes offer to translate. However, though I don't speak any Dutch, it's never been a problem for me to shop there, even when the vendor doesn't speak English.  Everyone knows a good deal when they see it. ☺

Some things I like about living in Süsterseel, Germany

I mentioned that we settled in a small town called Süsterseel here in Germany. It's located in the Heinsberg District, and within the municipality of Selfkant. I don't think it has much more than 5,000 people in it, although I could be mistaken.

I'm within walking distance from a great little bakery. Maybe 3 blocks away, tops. Some of the gals who work there speak a little English, some don't, but that's fine. They are always helpful and eager to help me learn German, which I appreciate. I have not yet found one baked item that wasn't fresh out of the oven and delicious. And the pastries! Oh. My. God. They're not overly sweet. Also, because it's three blocks away, I don't feel naughty buying some, because hey, I walked first! And afterwards!

It's generally quiet. No noise at night; this town is in the middle of farmland. Even during the day, all I pretty much hear are birds singing, with the occasional lawn mower. There has been some hammering in my back yard, as one of the neighbors has taken down part of the fence and is building it up again. But that's all. Rarely any traffic noises. Sweet!

People are friendly. It's nice to walk or drive to and from home and get a friendly nod or "morgen!" from people in the neighborhood. Some people say that Germans aren't friendly. They are indeed a private people, but perhaps it's because we live in a small town that people will smile and greet you as you pass. Regardless, it's nice.

The surrounding landscape is beautiful! It's spring, the grass is green, and the fields are bright yellow with flowers. These are rapeseed flowers, used to produce oil. Certain types of rapeseed produces Canola oil; whether these are the same, or whether they're used to produce biofuel or as feed for cattle, I don't know, but nevertheless, these fields of yellow flowers are so intensely yellow they seem to glow like something out of the Wizard of Oz when the sun strikes them just so.



Corellary to #4: People's gardens are lovely, and they have large vegetable gardens. In fact, our neighbor across the street has a large vegetable plot that has onions, shallots, potatoes, cabbage, and other vegetables.

Surprising things happen, such as marching bands marching down our little street on Ascension day.

There is an antique furniture store within walking distance. I might just buy one more item there. ;-)

The Netherlands is within walking distance. I kid you not. As the crow flies, it's one third of a mile. Going along the bike path/pedestrian trail, it's just a tad over half a mile to the border.  We saw this gentleman in his horse-drawn buggy about a mile away from Süsterseel in Jabeek, Netherlands.

Last but not least, I live within walking distance of Anna H, also of WA U.S.A., who totally is in tune with my yarn addiction; indeed she aids and abets in it. She also understands how to alleviate homesickness using fast food therapy.

Castle Hoensbroek - 17th and 18th Century portion

Back to the castle....

I felt considerable relief when we entered the later portions of the castle. I should mention that you first enter the modern portion, and then go into the medieval part. You can see that here:

The drawbridge that goes into the castle goes into the modern part first. In this picture, you can see the drawbridge, and to the right is the cylindrical medieval tower.

In the courtyard, there are various items from the daily life of the castle, with the exception of the cannon. ☺

I find it interesting that clothes were hung up on poles instead of on clotheslines, but it makes sense. Clotheslines would involve the mass production of clothespins, and hanging clothes on ropes instead of putting the poles through the clothes' armholes would risk the chance of the clothes flying off in the wind. Although I suppose one could thread the rope through the clothes' armholes.  Still, it wouldn't be as stable as poles.

You see the same thing indoors:

The servant girl you see in this picture is dressed in clothes from the 1660's. I assume the piece of furniture on the left is a clothes press, perhaps something to press the wet from the clothes or sheets. Yet...wouldn't that mess up the wood? Make it warp? It seemed to be a fine piece of furniture, so perhaps it was used when the clothes or sheets were dry. Hmm. It would be interesting to see how it actually works.  It looks similar to a printing press, doesn't it?  From what I understand, the basic design for the printing press came from clothes presses.


From the looks of the cannon, I doubt it dates from any earlier than the mid-1700's. I could be wrong but the barrel's too sophisticated for medieval engineering. I admit I don't know much about artillery, but my gut feeling is that this is certainly not medieval, it is muzzle-loading, and was moved via an attachment to a horse's harness. My feeling is that it's from the 1700's at the earliest. My brother Allen would probably know for sure.

Here's the lovely staircase to the upper floors of the castle:

I love the carpet on the stairs. The Hoensbroek family ancestors line the stairwell all the way to the top. The paintings range from approximately the early 1700's to the late 1800's.












Here are pictures of two different bedrooms.  The bed in the first one dates--I believe--from the 17th century:

The clothes in the last one date from the 1700's, I'd say around the 1770s.

Now here's a lovely scene: It's the castle drawing room, with one of the ladies at the harpsichord. The clothes date from approximately 1760 to 1770. The portrait of the lady, however, is from the mid to late 1600's.







This tapestry was in one of the dining rooms:

It seems to represent an exotic Asian countryside. The bird in it, however, is too fantastical for me to identify. :-D I couldn't help notice it, however, having been trained to notice such things by my mother, the expert tailor. Here is a detail of it--beautiful work:

Oh, and the people of these times grew perhaps a little, but they're still not as tall as people these days. Here is John next to one of the doorways.

John is 6 foot 3 inches, as a comparison; he's standing heels against the wall. You'd have to be shorter than 6 feet to go through these doors without ducking.











We then went into a room that was clearly the castle's version of the Man Cave, i.e., the Game Room. The guns are flintlocks--rifles and muskets.

There were various animals taxidermically displayed (birds as well as mammals) in various poses, but I don't think we took pictures of them. Just as well, as some of them were rather dramatic and alarming, such as a stoat snarling at an attacking falcon.

We went up another flight of stairs, this time to the rafters, where the bell clock was kept. Below  is the clock that regulated the chiming of the bells.

It's an amazing piece of machinery that still works to this day (and yes, we did hear the chiming of the hour, which was very loud).

Most every castle has a family chapel. To the right  is the Hoensbroek family one.

Though both Germany and the Netherlands are considered predominantly Protestant countries (Lutheran, though very few actually go to church on a regular basis), there are pockets of the population that are heavily Roman Catholic. The eastern part of the Netherlands and the western part of Germany seem to be strongly Catholic. The Hoensbroek castle chapel is clearly Catholic, complete with crucifix and holy water at the entrance of the chapel. The place is beautifully decorated...even the ceiling!

We decided we wanted a bite to eat before leaving, and went down to the cellar/restaurant, but unfortunately, they were closed. However, we did get a picture of the interesting interior.

Those implements with the jagged edges were used to adjust the height of pots above the fire, to regulate how much heat each pot received.

I just thought the arched construction was rather nifty. :-D

We left the castle after that, and I have to say I was throughly satisfied by our outing. I hope to go to more castles, in as many countries as I can.