Prague Anyone? Yes, please.

What can I say about Prague? How about this? GO!

p.s. I get loads of compliments on the photography on this blog. I have to fess up and admit that 98% of them are courtesy of TK Productions. As in Thomas. As in Kurz. Once in a while I can squeeze a good one in but that's the exception because TK's pictures rule.

p.p.s. Go to Prague in the off-season. Otherwise it's overrun with Americans and Germans. Wink.

Frühlingsfest - a Smaller Oktoberfest

Much smaller. But we're so psyched that our friends T & M are definitely coming to visit for Oktoberfest that we decided we better start our training now. First order of business - official attire. Now, laugh as you might, I think German lederhosen are akin to the Scottish kilt. It takes a man of a certain je ne sais quoi to don these puppies and get away with it. Here, in Bavaria, lederhosen are associated with virility and brawn – like the kilt minus the easy access. But you know those Germans, they over-engineer everything.

Thomas grew up in Dresden (East Germany) Lederhosen and dirndls (which we’ll get to later) have a Southern alpine heritage. For an East German guy to put on a pair of lederhosen is crossing a definite line. When Thomas broke out his leathers for Easter Sunday at his parents, he was none too sure what the reaction would be. Probably much the same as telling your parents that you’re in love with an American girl. Fortunately, both reveals turned out well.

Now, lest you think lederhosen and dirndls are reserved for Oktoberfest and the Hofbrauhaus, you’re wrong. They are a regular fixture in Munich. Sunday best, wedding, flea market, dinner with friends, beer garden, hiking - it’s definitely not unusual to see a pair of hairy legs poking out from a pair of hand-stitched hosen on the U-bahn. So, Thomas crossed cultural boundaries (while proliferating German stereotypes) and got himself the whole kit and caboodle.

On to the dirndl. Like lederhosen, the good ones are expensive. Some can be wedding dress expensive. And, unlike the utilitarian version pictured below, they can be fashionable. I know, I know. But really - there are boutique companies that specialize in high-fashion dirndls. Seriously. Think runway. Still don’t believe me? Click here.


So, I have not gotten my dirndl yet because:

1. I need to lose 10 pounds before I make such a big investment and there's a half-full jar of Nutella that needs to be addressed before that happens.
2. I'm trying to decide if I should match my dirndl to Thomas' outfit or if that is just waaayyy too Hansel and Gretel.
3. The frugal side of me thinks I should sew my own. Out of curtains. Like Scarlett.

I’ll have to get back to you on the final decision. In the meantime, let's have a beer and celebrate Frühling. Prost!

 

 

Anno Domini - Step Back in Time

We went to Dresden to visit Thomas' parents this weekend and they took us to Anno Domini a restaurant that recreates Medieval life in Saxony. Check it. No lights - only candles. Wooden tables and benches. Cutlery - optional. But if you do tick the yes box you get a wooden spoon and a knife - no fork because presumably the fork lost the rock, paper, scissors fight.

It was an authentic, entertaining experience complete with bawdy character-actor cum servers. I, of course, understood nothing and had to rely on the accompanying inappropriate gestures to get the gist of most of their shtick. Fortunately, sexual gesticulation (that sounds very scientific, doesn't it?) is an international language.

The highlight of the evening was the parade of animals that made their way through the place. Rabbit on your table? No probs. Rooster under your feet? Deal with it. Ass's ass in your face? That's what you paid for, isn't it? Let's just hope they're not offering complimentary cases of that to-die-for Medieval must-have... dysentery.

Passing Time in Passau

A late lie-in, a cup of coffee with the requisite fresh baked pastry and a road trip to Passau – well now, that has all the makings of a perfect Saturday. Passau is often referred to as the City of Three Rivers because the Danube, the Inn and the Ilz rivers all join there. Side note: doesn’t The Inn & The Ilz sound like a great name for a What’s Hot and What’s Not blog? Tragically, life in Feldmoching has taken me firmly off the trend trail. Any of my NYC girls want to jump on that?

Anyway, back to Passau (not to be confused with Passé which is what you’ll find on The Ilz list). Passau is a colorful city filled with early Gothic and Baroque architecture that has managed to survive despite being the victim of regular floods. During those sandbag-filled days, Passau is referred to by locals as the City of Three *&%$Mother*&%$^Efin Rivers. Supposedly, each of the three rivers has a very distinct color owing to the type and amount of silt, sediment, etc. that they carry from their origin. To me, they just looked – umm, cold. The Danube is said to be more of a yellow and not the waltzy blue for which it is renowned. Clever bit of marketing the Austrian-born Strauss did with that, eh? Seconded only by Red Bull.

Boat trips along the Danube often stop here to grab a bit of German feel and fare. The most visited tourist attraction is the baroque St. Stephen’s Cathedral built in 1688. At one time the church boasted (well, maybe not boasted as that doesn’t sound very Christian) the largest pipe organ in the world. There are 17,774 pipes and 233 registers. But sadly, or inevitably, the good ‘ole US of A super-sized that and now they refer to it as the largest pipe organ in Europe.

Linderhof Palace & Andechs Monastery

photo courtesy of flikr

Trudy’s in town so we took the opportunity to venture outside Munich for a day trip to Mad King Ludwig’s Linderhof Palace stopping for a beer on our way back at Andechs Monastery.

I’ll spare you my current obsession with King Ludwig II. Suffice it to say, I’m looking for a good biography on the nutter. Christmas? Dad? Anyone? Anyone? Located south of Munich, Linderhof is a tiny palace in comparison to its sibling Neuschwanstein. Ludwig spent a great deal of time there in his later years when he was in full recluse mode. Hence, it is the only palace in the world without any guestrooms. In fact, Ludwig was such a loner by then that he had a drop floor installed in his dining room so that a fully dressed and laid out table could be hoisted up from the kitchen below thereby enabling him to dine without servants in absolute solitude. Oh yeah, except that he insisted the table be set for four because he liked to talk to imaginary people while he ate. Like I said, nutter.

Unfortunately, because it is winter a lot of the sculptures were under protection and some of the outlying buildings were closed. I definitely want to take a trip back when everything is in bloom to see the gardens and the outer buildings, most notably the Moorish Kiosk where Ludwig spent days on end smoking a big hookah. Smoking what? Who knows, but remember kids - This is your brain. This is your brain on drugs.

Any questions?

After a scenic drive back we stopped at local favorite Andechs Monestery in search of the particular brand of spiritual enlightenment that can only be found at the bottom of a monk-made maß of beer.

It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas

We've had a nice snowfall here in Munich. Fasanerie, our little lake, is a Winter Wonderland. The Christmas Markets are in full swing and we've made the rounds in Dresden, Munich and Regensburg. We're still a bit miffed that BFMF doesn't have their own Weinachts Markt. I know at least two people who would have gone for a Bratwurst and Gluhwein on our way back from the bakery.

PaReeeee

In Paris they simply stared when I spoke to them in French;

I never did succeed in making those idiots understand their language.

Mark Twain

The last weekend in November we made a quick get-away to Paris. We found a flight for 32 Euro - okay after taxes/fees it was more like 78 but still... and hotels all have low-season rates. It was a no-brainer.

For some reason, I've never heard the call of Paris before. My "must see" list always seems to have less developed countries at the top. I suppose because underdeveloped places feel both more challenging and more like getting away from it all at the same time. But one of my goals before coming was to see as many places in Europe that I had not yet visited. Paris, Prague, Budapest, Tuscany were/are all at the top of my list.

We packed a lot into four days. Cathedral Notre Dame, Chateau de Versailles, the Montparnasse district, the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, the Mouffetard District, Champs Elysees, amazing bakeries and, of course, Parisian cafes for coffee, gourmand meals and great people watching.

Our hotel was located in the St. Germain district which turned out to be an ideal location. The area is a mix of boutiques - Dior/Vuitton, unique shops, and of course cafes. One day we had a pricey cafe-au-lait and baguette at Les Deux Magots one of Hemingway's haunts just up the street from our hotel. The dichotomy between Les Deux Magots and Sloppy Joe's (Hemingway's Key West, FL hangout) made me smile. I can only assume the common denominator must have been alcohol - the great leveler of all things.

Conveniently there was a metro station one block from our hotel. We'd purchased a 5-day rail pass so we could navigate around the city easily. Which is not to say that we didn't do our fair share of walking. We walked - A LOT. One of the best things about Paris are the side streets. You can wind down narrow streets, take a few twists and turns, and stumble upon an amazing church or a dead-end courtyard complete with a fountain. It's like exploring an old house that has some new delight behind every door.

I think the highlights for me (besides just exploring with no agenda) were Versailles and the Eiffel Tower. At the risk of rendering ignorant American stereotypes true - I was completely awed by the size of the Eiffel Tower. Yes, I knew it was big. Yes, I knew it was tall. But it is massive. Even if you have nil interest in architecture you can't help but admire such genius. How?? The idea?? The construction?? How??

I think this was the same feeling that captured me at the Palace Versailles. How?? The size is staggering. The opulence overwhelming. It's all a bit surreal. I find it hard to actually get my head around the fact that this was a Home / a Lifestyle / a Society for a fortunate few. It feels like an exaggerated movie set that went overboard with gold spray paint. Decidedly on the low-brow scale, I could not help but ponder the more banal things that accompanied this life. If there was a grand ball, how did the ladies go to the loo? Did they hold it all night? Were there anonymous maid servants to hold up their skirts (it would require more than one) and assist with the clean-up? Whose loo did they use? Hardly the King or the Queen's but it is not as though there were conveniently located multi-stall toilets in the hallway. With 500 people in attendance I imagine the ladies room line must put the line at The Garden to shame. You'd miss half the night by the time you were pinned, laced and powdered. Perhaps that's the reason why such extravaganzas lasted until dawn. At least a lady could get in a dance or two even if she'd enjoyed a few too many glasses of champagne.

At the time of our visit, Versailles was hosting an exhibition of sculptor/artist Jeff Koons. According to the Chateau de Versailles official website, "Contemporary artistic creation makes possible a different perception of this living monument and its ever changing reality which is no way a fossilized model of a particular period." According to Thomas, "it was distracting." Granted a 300+ year-old palace is not the usual context one would expect to see a sculpture titled "Michael Jackson and Bubbles," but I felt that juxtaposing these somewhat "kitsch" creations against the backdrop of such classic architecture made it more impactful. Thomas - not so much. We spent most of the train ride home discussing it passionately. I argued that this was the longest Thomas had ever considered/discussed art in his entire life which in my opinion made the installation a success. Thomas argued that that the Guggenheim had called and wanted its livelihood back. I think it was the vacuums that really pushed him over the edge...


Food of course was an adventure. We had a great Fondue in Mouffetard, several really good meals in cafes near our hotel, and more street crepes than required. Oh yes, and how could I forget this highlight - they serve Nutella on crepes! Clearly the culinary distinction of France is well-deserved.

Because food is so much a part of the Paris experience, we found ourselves paralyzed a few times. After having a wonderful Parisian breakfast at a cafe we serendipitously found, we were determined to duplicate the experience the next morning. We walked around the artsy district of Montparnasse (of which Jean Cocteau once said "poverty is a luxury in Montparnasse") for over an hour without finding a place that we thought "looked good." A bit on the rough and tumble/touristy side, Montparnasse hosts sex-shops side by side with funky artisan boutiques. But we just didn't get the right food vibe. So instead of breakfast we ended up going without food until after lunch when we finally succumbed in Mouffetard with an "it's either this place or that place" approach. Hunger had obliterated the need for memorable.

And is Paris truly for lovers? Judging by the meal we ate sandwiched between two young lovebirds who followed EVERY bite with kisses and baby talk (understandable and annoying even in lovely French) and an older couple who graciously limited their public display of the kiss for which France is renowned to the lull between courses, I'd have to say yes. What does it say about us that we were more interested in sopping up every last drop of savory sauce with crusty bread than gazing lovingly into each others eyes and stealing kisses? I can't decide who said it better George Bernard Shaw, "there is no love sincerer than the love of food," or Rodney Dangerfield, "I'm at an age where food has taken the place of sex in my life. In fact, I just had a mirror put over my kitchen table." Bring on le dessert, s'il vous plait.

Snow Day in Garmisch-Partenkirchen

Munich was graced with its first snowfall on Friday. Despite reports of 12+ inches we only got an inch or two. Some southern areas were hit harder so on Sunday morning we set out in search of snow and landed in Garmisch-Partenkirchen. G-P was the sight of the 1936 Winter Olympic games and true to its heritage it did not disappoint the snow hungry. In the winter it is a haven for skiers while in the summer the hikers swarm in. Somewhat of a destination resort, the cobblestone streets are lined with chalet hotels, upscale shops, cafes and restaurants.

On the way home from G-P we stopped at the Benedictine Ettal Abbey. Founded in 1330, the working Monastery still houses about 50 monks who maintain a brewery, hotel, cheese making enterprise and small publishing business. There is also a private high school on the premises. You can learn more about the Abbey here. The compound, set against a backdrop of snow covered alps, was breathtaking. The stillness of fresh snow and our solo presence enhanced the spiritual mood all the more.

Neuschwanstein Day Hike

On Sunday Thomas and I decided to head south and do a strenuous hike whose reward was amazing views of Neuschwanstein. Most Americans will recognize the castle as the inspiration behind the Disney castles.

View of Neuschwanstein (wikipedia) Disney castle (wikipedia)

Before you get too excited, this is as close as we got... A view from the road as we drove to the hike entry point.

Somehow, we made an error trailblazing and never did get to the side of the alp with amazing views. Typical for us. We have a compass, we have a portable gps, we have the ubercool gps watch/heart moniter thingy. Where were they? Ummm, yeah at home. With the sunblock. And the extra layer of clothing for the freezing temperatures we encountered at the top.

We hiked up - straight up - 2,000m. It was the most challenging hike I've done in years. Stairs were not my friend for the next two days. And what was our reward for reaching the top?? Even better than an amazing view of Neuschwanstein - we saw this!!!!!!

And this...

Electra Visits the Viktualienmarkt

Viktualienmarkt Stand

Thomas and I have gotten into the habit or taking our bikes into town on Saturday morning for a Milch Kaffee and a fresh pastry or pretzel. Usually we just go into the thriving metropolis of BFMF and combine our caffeine kick with a few other errands - post office, bank, green grocer.

Last Saturday we decided to take our bikes into Munich proper for our weekend ritual. We wanted to see how long it would take to bike into the city center and we needed to pick up a few things in some of the shops. Forty-five minutes later we were locking up our bikes and assessing our cafe options.

I've been into the city center about twice a week since I've been here. It's a short 15 minute ride on the S-bahn so it's easy to meet friends or just go in to pick up some hard to find grocery items. Thomas, because he clings to the questionable belief that at least one of us should be working (thank god), has been exactly twice. So it was nice to be there together for once and have the chance to stroll around before the crowds descended.

One of my favorite "must sees" in Munich is the Viktualienmarkt. This open air market has been around for over 200 years offering fresh fruits and vegetables, spices, oils, soaps, specialty foods and of course sausage and cheese. It's not unusual to see someone enjoying a weisswurst and beer at 9:30 in the morning. Not a taste I've acquired yet. I'll save that food adventure for when my father visits. Which brings me to...

The Tale of the Rollmop
Most girls try to win their father's affection with fairly standard fare - good grades, sweet Polly Purebread impersonations, chastity belts. I try to win my father's affection with food. And yes, I realize this should probably be discussed in therapy but that costs money and blogging is free. When I was young it was liver and onions. "Good iron," my father said. "Good God NO!" my stomach said. But I ate it because nobody else in the family would and I thought all that iron would surely morph into a halo around my head. Come to find out years later that the butter and bacon it was drenched in were more likely to clog my arteries. But I ate it. And I seem to recall actually almost sorta kinda liking it. Today the mere thought of eating liver makes me want to subsist on carrots for the rest of my days. I mean really this is an animal's LIVER! Livers are things which you donate. You don't eat them.

But no foul food experience (and there is a horse meat stew incident in the archives) compared to the rollmop incident. One day, while my brother and I were visiting my parents, my father pulled from the refrigerator something we just "had to try." He'd stopped at a small German deli for some sandwich fixings and made the happy chance epicurean discovery of rollmops.
From Wikipedia: A rollmop is a pickled herring fillet rolled (hence the name) into a cylindrical shape around a piece of pickled gherkin. Rollmops grew popular throughout Germany during the early 19th century. The fish was pickled to preserve it and transported in wooden barrels. In pubs in Old Berlin, it was common to have high-rising glass display cases (Hungerturm, meaning "hunger tower") on the bar to present ready-to-eat dishes like lard bread, salt eggs, meatballs, mettwurst (bacon sausage) and of course rollmops. At the present time, rollmops are commonly served as part of the German Katerfrühstück (hangover breakfast) which is believed to restore some electrolytes and makes breasts larger.

Anybody hungry?

My brother said no dice right away. I hedged - my internal dialogue probably being something along the lines of, "If I eat this Dad will love me more than he loves Neal. I'll never be able to usurp "the baby" from Mom's pedestal but I still have a shot at Dad." Dare I mention I was in my mid-thirties at the time? Right, going to arrange appointment with therapist...

It's quite possible that my father taunted me. "Come on, don't be such a wuss. Try it." So I did. How shall I describe? Vile? Vicious? No, the clear winner was Vomitous. No sooner than it was down it came back up to reintroduce itself in all its smelly, slimy disgustingness. And it continued to make guest appearances for the next two days. When I hear the word "rollmop" now my stomach immediately clenches and I start to gag. Pavlov in one easy step.

I'm not sure how a posting about the Viktualienmarkt ended up being a soul-baring Electra complex expose... oh, right that was it... They sell rollmops at the Viktualienmarkt. I for one will not be eating them even if they give me Pamela Anderson (a vegan by the way who does not eat LIVER) breasts. The weisswurst I'll consider if Daddy dares me.