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.

Eeeuuuww!

I interrupt my castle travelogue to report that I just discovered a dead mouse in my kitchen. A Dead Mouse.

I was mopping the kitchen floor, and the mop hit the baseboard at the sink and the baseboard fell off. I bent over to pick up the baseboard and put it back and froze as I spotted a mousetrap...with a mouse trapped in it.

It was clearly dead, in fact downright dried up and mummified. Who knows how long it had been there? It had to have been there before we moved in. No doubt the Bad Last Tenants found signs of mice, set up the mousetrap and didn't bother to get rid of it before they left.

I suppose I should be grateful it wasn't alive and wriggling its little life out in the trap, but there I was, bent over and staring at the desiccated thing, feeling the gorge rise up in my throat.

I stood up so that the gorge would not rise any further. After a few deep breaths (luckily I had been mopping so the air was quite fresh-smelling) while deciding how to dispose of the thing, I took a pair of grilling tongs and gingerly picked up the mouse and mousetrap with it and took it out to the garage to the waste bins...only to be confronted with a quandary: in what bin would the recycling-conscious Germans put a dead mouse and mousetrap?

So there I was, dead mouse and mousetrap at the end of the grilling tongs staring at the multiple choice question of recycle bins before me. Obviously the "gelber sack" was out of the question, because though the rule of thumb is that if you can't write on it with a ball point pen and it isn't glass it goes into the gelber sack, the answer is yes and no regarding the mouse and mousetrap. It was a wooden mousetrap, and it was totally possible to write on it with a ball point pen, but of course you can't write on a dead mouse with a ball point pen, and I was not about to separate the two, even though I'm sure Germans would be conscientious enough to do so, in the way one separates the metal lids from glass jars before recycling (the metal lids go in the gelber sack).

The other obvious choices would be either the "hausmull" (general house trash) or "bio waste." I decided on "bio waste" as that sounded hazardous and nasty enough for something like this. So I tossed it in there, and hoped I made the right decision, because there is no way I am going to dig that thing out and put it in another bin. Yuck!

Castle Hoensbroek - medieval portion

It's been a few weeks since we've gone to it (April 17th, to be exact), but I have to mention Castle Hoensbroek, in the Netherlands. John and I decided to take a break from getting our house in order--getting furniture, putting our bed and dining table and chairs together, etc., and do some actual touristy stuff.

John, bless his heart, didn't tell me that we were going to a castle. A real castle! I was so freakin' excited. The day was beautiful, and it actually decided to warm up a bit after the bitter cold of March and early April; the roundabouts along the highway showed bright yellow daffodils and red tulips. Hoensbroek is not that far from the little town of Susterseel, Germany, where we live to the Netherlands--it would take me less than a fifteen minute walk to cross the border. The castle, however, is a bit farther out:


View Larger Map


A 20-minute drive, max, about the time it'd take to drive from home to Tacoma.

That just blows my mind. Just a short drive to get to some real, amazing history, I mean a castle for God's sake!!! This is not Disney, people! It's medieval! With a moat! With water in it!

Words simply do not come close to describing how thrilled I was, and so I won't even bother, because, damn! A castle! Now I'm in Europe for sure, I thought.

There is no way one could pass the castle on the street and not see it. It's easy to see the spires from a mile or so away. So we came up to it, and parked in the parking lot, and I had to get a good shot of the whole thing before I ever went in it.



Oh, it doesn't look that large from this side...but there's another whole big piece of it on the other side. There are two sections; this side, which is the oldest section, completely surrounded by the moat, and before you can enter it, you have to cross two drawbridges, first through the newer part (picture on the right).

And then through the older part:

Just to get a better idea of the orientation, below is a picture of John standing at the entrance of the first drawbridge. You can see the second drawbridge through the arch behind him.

Upon going across the first drawbridge and through the first arch, I felt so overwhelmed, I almost wept. Yes, yes, that sounds silly, but I really did. I was there, experiencing a very, very old piece of history. It had been a dream of mine ever since I was a child to visit Europe and see real castles. It didn't hit me until then that here I was, doing it at last. Weird, huh? I'd stayed in Geilenkirchen for more than a month, and that's an old city itself. I could see how old the buildings were there.

I suppose it's because Germany and the Netherlands is also modern, with pretty much every modern convenience. They even have Safeway-like grocery stores, and dollar stores (I guess I should say, Euro stores), cell phones (they call them "handies" here), computers, the Internet--all of it. I caught traces of medieval architecture here and there as we traveled around the countryside looking for a house to rent--there is even a castle tower in the town of Gangelt that is privately owned and in which a family still lives. You can see parts of the castle wall that is now part of someone's garden wall.

But it just didn't hit me until I saw this castle.

The first archway opened up into a huge courtyard. A flash of horses and grooms holding their bridles came to me, taking the horses into the far building (opposite the oldest part of the castle). I could imagine it, how the lord of the castle might dismount and hand the reins to the groom or stable boy who'd run up as soon as he'd enter.

Whether that happened in that particular spot, I don't know; there's no information on it that I can find. But that's okay--I'll just let my imagination fill it all in. ;-)

I understood from the pamphlet that there were more than a few parts to this castle--the dates of construction went from the 13th century to the 18th. We went through a small portion of the later part, but John hurried me through these to the medieval portion, and I didn't demur, as I thought I'd like to see that first.

But...I don't know what it was, but as soon as I stepped into the tower, I began to feel sick to my stomach. Now, I'm not claustrophobic, and in fact I rather like cosy closed-in places. Plus, the first room was not at all small, or at least, no smaller than the bathroom in our house. Well, I'm a writer, and I write historicals, and nothing was going to keep me from exploring this tower, because this was research, damn it! So I gritted my teeth and took out my camera, determined to take as many pictures as possible.

Of course, I had to take a picture of armor.

You'll see the armor as soon as you enter the medieval portion of the castle.

Then there are the other levels...but before you go to them, you need to go up these extremely narrow stairs. Now, I'm not a tall person, 5' 3" max. But there was no way I could go up these stairs without occasionally having to duck my head and pull in my elbows.

This tower was used as defense against enemies. Now, that armor above is no taller than I. If I went up those stairs without armor, having to bend my head down and banging my elbows against the stairwell wall, I do not see how someone with armor could have done it in any speedy manner, if at all. At most, I would suppose that if a knight had to go up these stairs, he would have to go up them with chain maille at most, and no helmet.

So if you ever write of a knight going up in a tower, do not have him run up in armor. No way, no how. He could go up in a quick pace--not running--with the minimum of body protection.

However, the narrowness of the stairs does point to strategic defense. Let's say you pack away a lot of provisions in that tower (that is possible, as there are fireplaces) and the enemy entered the castle. Reinforcements were coming. But then the enemy has entered the tower...

Trust me when I say that there is no way more than one person can go up those stairs. It would be so very easy to grab a spear and skewer a non-armored soldier, and kick him down the stairs, and if there was anyone behind him, they'd all go tumbling down or at best be stuck. If there were more than a few armed defenders in that tower, they could take turns skewering all night until the reinforcements came.

To the right is an interesting hole in the castle wall:

I was told that this is where archers would shoot their arrows, but I have to say I'm not sure how an archer (whether longbow or crossbow) would be able to aim well through this, or how he would be able to position himself so that an arrow could be shot through it. My conclusion is that not a lot of aiming was involved, and that archers generally poked that arrow through the hole and shot, hoping it would hit someone.

Now a rifle or a musket--well, I can see aiming one of those through that hole, and I expect that might well have happened during the 1600s on up.


Below is a fireplace (you could cook food in there if necessary).

To the left, a toilet:













And below is the tower rooftop:

Now this is where you could probably do the most damage: if a lit arrow managed to lodge itself into the roof and caught the timbers on fire, it would most definitely fall and cause a lot of damage, especially on the wooden floor below. However, the exterior roof looks to be slate or other form of rock, so the chances of getting a flaming arrow through that was probably slim. It might be possible for a cannon (in the 1400's) to blast away at the roof and thereby bring down the timbers, but if you note the earlier pictures, you'll see that the tower is round (cylindrical), as is the roof. This does not make for a good target, as the tendency would be for the cannonball to roll or deflect off the relatively small surface area.

Oh, and here I am, climbing up to the very top of the castle tower. I'm smiling, but there are gritted teeth beneath that smile, as I am feeling nauseated.

And then we went back down, this time to the dungeon:

Here is the dungeon itself:

After looking at this dungeon, I would think it'd be unnecessary for anyone to be tortured to extract information (unless it was needed quickly). There is no sconce in which a torch or candle may be set; the window is a tiny thing that may let in some light, but barely, and certainly there is no way anyone could see anything through it, let alone make a jailbreak. Though the room has the size and height comparable to a modern bedroom, enough for a large, modern-day man to stretch out when laying down, it's clearly cold and damp. It's silent--there is no noise that penetrates from the outside, none that I could hear, anyway. The thick-timbered door might let in a loud sound, but it'd be muffled at best.

It's essentially the medieval form of sensory deprivation.

It's possible to turn the lights out in this room (there's electricity to it), and when we did, even though it was a bright sunny day outside, only a vague gray illuminated the interior. I doubt any prisoner would know whether it was full daylight or a cloudy day, but I would venture to say it'd be doubtful whether you could tell much difference between night and day. You couldn't tell what the seasons were--perhaps it might be colder during the winter. Stay in this place for a couple of weeks, maybe months...well, it'd be a strong-minded person who didn't go just a little crazy.

It was with considerable relief that I left the dungeon and the medieval portion...and oddly, as soon as I stepped into the door into 17th century area, my nausea disappeared. Curious, I stepped back into the tower--nausea again. I stepped out--none.

Hmm.

More adventure in German cooking - steak in yellow goo

So I went to the Edeka yesterday, which is a grocery store in Süsterseel.  I will most definitely go there again, as I had been going to the Rewe in Gangelt, which is farther away.  I have to say the Edeka is more to my taste, as their wine section is organized by country and type of wine.  In addition, I nearly wept with joy when I saw they stocked sesame seed oil, yakisoba noodles, dried shiitake mushrooms, and large bags of Japanese crackers.

They also have an enormous butcher shop section (not to mention dairy section, but it seems all German grocery stores have enormous dairy sections).  I wanted to get something nice for dinner, and spotted  some Rindfleisch (beef) that looked like lean steak, marinated in some kind of yellowish goo with green flecks.  I figured if it had green vegetable-looking flecks, it was probably some kind of herb.   I also went to the wine section and picked up more wine, about four bottles, and no we are not drinking all of them at once!  That would be a travesty, and not properly appreciating the wine.  Among them was a bottle of 2005 French Cabernet Sauvignon, at an amazingly good price.

They also had wines imported from overseas--South Africa, Australia, and the United States.  However, I have to say I was rather disappointed to see only one kind from the U.S.:  Gallo.  I kid you not.  Gallo.  Perhaps there are better than simple low-cost table wines that Gallo usually offers, but I have not seen them in WA.  There are other great California wines, not to mention great Washington and Oregon wines, but I did not see them.  At. All.  I've not seen them in any German grocery stores.  I think the closest I can go to find any is in Bonn.

This isn't to say that I am looking to stock American wines, unless I give in to massive homesickness, in which case I'll assuage it with Heinz ketchup on French fries, and I have to say German pomme frites are top notch, fried to a even crispness, never over-salted, and never limp.  Why they call them pomme frites (French) instead of gebraten Kartoffeln, I don't know.

There are plenty of good wines be had here, in massive quantities and at a low price, and we are keeping notes on each, so that we can revisit the brands and kinds in the future.  We have no idea what is considered a good brand here in Germany (or in France or Spain, for that matter), so we are going purely on taste.  There are even kinds we haven't heard of, so that's an adventure, too.

Anyway, I am glad that I got the beefsteaks soaked in green-flecked yellow goo, because it turned out to be a lovely garlic and butter marinade with parsley flakes.  The meat was lean, but nevertheless very tender.  I'm afraid I had to fry it, as we don't yet have oven racks yet--the bad prior tenants absconded with them, why I do not know, and our landlord has them on order.

I fried them straight on, and when I flipped them, put crumbled gorgonzola cheese on top.  I also decided to saute some brown mushrooms (I suspect they're Crimini, but that's not the name on the package--it just says "brun champignons") with garlic in the steak leavings and added sour cream, and then put this topping on the steaks.  Made a tossed salad, and then sliced some white crusty bread (bought at the local bakery, which is within walking distance) and put  sundried tomato bruschetta spread, a sliver of parmesan cheese, and an arugula (called rucola here) leaf on each.  The wine that John brought up from the basement was a South African Nederburg 2007 Shiraz.

I have to say I paid no attention to the Shiraz after biting  into a piece of the steak.  Dear heaven.  That was one of the most tender cuts of meat I've ever had the privilege of eating.  John's only complaint was that the steak I had cooked was too small.  So much for appreciating wine.  The steak was foremost in our gustatory-flooded minds.

The lesson in all this?  Do not be afraid of meat marinated in green-flecked yellow goo in a German grocery store.  It is a Good Thing.

Adventures in German cooking

So John came home and brought some Karttofel nudeln (I hope I'm spelling this right--it translates as "potato noodles")--I don't know why, but I suppose he decided to do some adventurous shopping while at the local grocery store.

Karttofel nudeln is not that different from gnocchi, which are small potato dumplings--same size, same taste. It may even be the same thing, except the German version is a bit longer.

Of course, I had no idea of how to cook it in a real German way. I could have cooked it like I would have served gnocchi, but that didn't seem right, because, after all, it was Karttoffel nudeln, not gnocchi, and I really have not yet really tried cooking something really German yet.

Not that I did that today, really. So far, all the recipes I've searched for online regarding the Karttofel nudeln have been about how to make the dumplings, not how to prepare them with other food. I will need to make a further search, but there was not much time for me to do that today, so I decided to do a bit of decipherin'.

I don't know much German, but it's enough alike to English that I can make out a few words and it looked like you could fix them any which way--boiled, fried, whatever--mostly fried, it looked like, because that was what was on the package's picture. I decided fried was the more German way, because I have found that they seem to be very fond of fried potatoes.

In fact, when John and I were eating out while we were at the City Hotel in Geilenkirchen, we found that a huge number of menu items featured French fries. Maybe even a majority. I'm not talking about in a fast-food restaurant, I mean in very nice restaurants. Chateaubriand...with French fries. A lovely marinated and broiled halibut with a light dill cream sauce, presented just so on the plate...and French fries. In addition, deep fryers seem to be a very popular item in the appliance stores, and the pictures on those deep fryer boxes show French fries.

So, fried. But not deep fried, because I am not really into deep fried stuff. Since the picture showed the nudeln browning in a frying pan, I thought, hey, how about sauteed? If bulk quantities at grocery stores indicates staples, I'd think onions would be one of them. I have not yet seen onions sold in single quantities--they come in packages of at least three or four. Therefore, there must be onions along with them.

What else? Wurst--sausages. I happened to have a package of sausages. So, that goes into the pan. Probably don't need any salt--the sausages probably had plenty. Butter probably would be appropriate, but I thought I'd go leaner and use olive oil. Like I said, not totally German.

So, I sauteed some onion in olive oil until transparent, tossed in the nudeln, and fried them enough so that they had a somewhat crisp surface. Tossed in the sliced sausages, cooked them lightly brown on the edges, turned off the heat, and dusted some ground black pepper over it all.

Then I looked at the result in the pan and realized...this is breakfast, not dinner. What I had there was--fried potatoes, after all--would taste like hash browns with sausage and onions.

Hmm. Well, I'm okay with serving breakfast at dinner, so what the heck, I'll go all the way. Instead of a salad, as I'd usually prepare for dinner, I thought I'd go the breakfast way, and prepare fruit instead. The nudeln package mentioned applesauce...well, I didn't have any, although I had fresh apples. So, I'd cook those, too.

Unfortunately, I can't use the oven (the former tenants seemed to have made off with the oven racks, so they are on order) to broil apple slices as I'd prefer, so I made use of the microwave. Cored and sliced three Pink Lady apples (they have a marvelous variety of apples here in Germany), laid them out in a small casserole dish, sprinkled cinnamon and raw sugar on them, and microwaved them for a good 5 minutes, mixed them up a bit, then microwaved for another 3 minutes.

John took a taste and agreed, yes, this was breakfast at dinner, and all it needed was a fried egg over-easy. Done!

So what I figure I ended up with was...well, breakfast with German Karttofel nudlen, American style.

Next time, I'll really find a German recipe to try. :-D