A Taste of Home

Our neighbors invited us to Chili D's for burgers.  They likened the food to Five Guys - only better.  Although the term hamburger derives from Hamburg, Germany's second largest city, the hamburger meat here tastes different here then in the States.  Few speciality shops build their menu around this popular sandwich and the ground meat contains much less fat.

Morgan and Ben organized this outing because the restaurant owner promised to serve a boar he had caught hunting the previously week.  Laws and the FDA prohibit American cafe owners from hunting and killing the meat they serve their patrons.  But when in Frankfurt....

The British owner spent seven years in the States and wanted to create a bar that served authentic American bar food.

We had the place to ourselves and the owner created a special boar appetizer for us.  The boar and the spaetzle tasted incredible.  I even loved the special green cabbage like vegetable.

The burger exceeded expectations.  Dave took a bite before I could get a picture.

We toasted to new friends and to being out at 10:00 on a week night.

Lots of Treats

Last night, we left our comfort zone and headed to Bad Homburg, a suburb of Frankfurt, to attend a family Halloween party where I only knew the hostess, an American who has lived in Germany for 15 years.  I met her taking a photography class.  Her two teenage girls attend FIS.  We pulled up to a Georgetown Pike like house with a private gate.  A lit trail guided us to the two heated tents with wooden floors placed behind the house.  A DJ played music as caterers served punch "mit alkohol" and "ohne alkohol."  A campfire with hay benches sat next to a small pond.  Germans do not celebrate Halloween, but this international crowd sported costumes real enough to be seen on a Broadway show.  This Halloween party rivaled a small southern wedding.   While we felt a little misplaced, Emily and Owen insisted on staying for the magician.  We left them in the front, while we fell to the tent's back.  We heard the magician ask someone for his or her age.  We immediately knew the question's recipient when the British accent said, "I did not know you were a ventriloquist."  (Emily later explained she had to speak up because Owen would not talk.)

I found a Cordon Bleu trained pastry chef and organized a classic apple tarte class for three people.  She showed us how a classic French tarte shell  - a Pate Sucree - is made.  We walked through the techniques and then enjoyed a slice with French Pressed coffee.

The measurements are not on the butter label here so we used a scale.  The higher fat content in the European butter enriches the taste.

The local grocery store sells full vanilla beans, so we learned how to scrape out the seeds. 

We made a delicious filling using the gala apples I bought yesterday at the farmer's market.

40 minutes later, a beautiful dish.

Meanwhile,  Dave and the kids decorated the car and went "trunk or treating" at FIS.  Emily and Owen created a dozen monsters for a monster mash theme.  (Dave tried three stores yesterday looking for Halloween decorations - of course most people organize prior to 24 hours in advance - so we decided to be creative.)

Our First German Snow Fall

Emily and I tested our winter clothes this morning.  We braved the snow showers and walked with wind in our faces at Emily's pace to the U-bahn.  Far fewer people crowded the zeil.  We stopped in H&M to buy Emily some gloves and continued to Konstablarwache, our favorite farmer's market.  After we bought our cheeses and apples, Emily and I shared a waffle and a cappuccino.

 The waffle maker explained she wanted to move to the US after she finished medical school.

Previously, Emily refused the waffles.  She tried them today and decided she loved them.

A peek at my favorite apple stand.

Universal Issues

My new German friend went back to the OR as an orthopedic surgeon on Monday after 10 months of maternity leave.  She explained "Mutterschutz" prevented her from working to her full capacity starting when she announced her pregnancy.  Mutterschutz legally "protects" working mothers by making it illegal to work longer than 8.5 hour days the entire pregnancy.  In addition, starting six weeks before the birth until eight weeks after the birth, they cannot work.  This "protection" is legally regulated in Germany.  German women fought for these rights at the end of the 19th century when work for women  consisted of factory conditions.  Now, in the 21st century, aspects of the law limit women and actually deny them the right to make their own choices for their body's needs.

On the other hand, like most EU countries, the parental leave policy is very progressive.  Mothers and fathers are entitled to parental leave until the child’s third birthday.   For three years, employers must keep the job open and the employee receives two-thirds of her/his income.  In addition, both parents can be home simultaneously and be paid two-thirds of their income for up to 14 months.  Yes, I understand most Americans abhor the tax structure here.  I just think there must be something better then 12 weeks of FMLA and unpaid maternity leave.  The German leave policy allows for more options than the woman quits her job and man brings home the bread model our society continues to push.

I came home early to earn extra hours with my other employers today.  We finished the mural in their bedroom, made chocolate chip pumpkin bread, and watched Harry Potter.  After I prepared their lunches, started their laundry, and treated them to a "spa,"  I decided to take my dinner break.  Of course, I forgot that they changed the policy and cut my meal time to two minutes.  "Water"  "String cheese"  "More pumpkin bread" "Napkins".....

Just Hanging

We spent the day missing Dave.  Just kidding.  (kind of)  We spent the day hanging out.  Like the hobbits, the kids demand breakfast numbers 1, 2, and 3 before noon. While they oscillated  between eating, playing, and fighting,  I connected with our apartment and continued organizing and making lists.  I forget that a few months are required to settle into a space.

In the afternoon, we walked leisurely to meet a German mom I befriended for coffee at Siesmayer, an amazing French pastry cafe within Frankfurt's famous Palmagarten - botanical garden.  After hot chocolate, cappuccinos, and croissants, we headed to Gruneburgpark.  Frankfurt is filled with green parks.  Gruneburger, named "green castle" based on a castle that stood there during the 14th century, boasts the most acres of all city parks.  (The park also has a sad history.  The Rothchilds owned it beginning in 1837.  In 1935, after the Nazi rise to power, he "donated" it to the city.)

Along with tree lined running trails, mini playgrounds are scattered throughout the place.  These playgrounds each feature unique equipment that force kids to develop core strength and balance skills.

As we walked home, we noticed a "Stolperstein" - a small cobblestone sized memorial for individual victims of Nazism.  To quote Wikipedia, "they commemorate individuals – both those who died and survivors – who were consigned by the Nazis to prisons, euthanasia facilities, sterilization clinics, concentration camps, and extermination camps, as well as those who responded to persecution by emigrating or committing suicide."  The artist felt people would pay respect by bowing to read the words and foot traffic would keep the stone shiny.

These stones remind me of how fortunate I am.

Energy

I am posing as a single parent this week.  Four days after dropping Dave off at the airport - an adventure in and of itself - I felt exhausted.  The little activities I do so mindlessly at home require energy in a country that remains foreign to me.

The trip to the airport involved at least five references to "Jesus" as I drove the van for the first time in four months.  GPS, while an amazing tool, adds another layer to driving.  I struggled to look at the little screen, read the German road signs, listen to a creepy British voice call out weird names, and simultaneously stay in my lane.  Trying to be calm, Dave explained, "I am not trying to criticize you, but you need to drive in between the lines."  As I waved good bye, I prayed I would make it back to the Consulate and not find myself in Berlin.

Night one, I realized we were out of toilet paper.  Not a big deal at home where I am comfortable jumping in the car and going to a 24 hr Rite Aid.  Here, I panicked - a ridiculous reaction.  (Luckily, I found our last two Kirkland rolls hiding in a box.)  

Emily attends a private school here, and the room parent - mother -  sent three e-mails outlining activities requesting parent participation - pumpkin carving, halloween party, two Thanksgiving parties, morning cooking classes, Christmas book club, parent coffees.  She laid out plans for the end of the year gift and teacher birthdays (each kid (i.e. parents) brings in a flower and she will be waiting at the school to make the bouquet).  To top it off, she only sent it to mothers.  I had to request she include Dave in future e-mails.  Oh how far we have come since the 1950s.

Last night, I stopped at Rewe, our local store.  Shopping alone requires concentration as I analyze the shape and color of each bottle merely to find white wine vinegar.  (I couldn't remember the German name.)  I left without turkey as well.  Walking home, I found myself on a street with too many headlights.  I realized I walked the opposite direction of our house.  I regretted purchasing the extra bottle of red wine as I did an about face and searched for the street on which we actually live.

Having worked last weekend, I decided to take the day off.  I then remembered what I love about living overseas.  I took a five minute U-bahn ride to the ziel, and grabbed coffee and some familiarity at Starbucks.  I met a pregnant German woman waiting in line at a wax shop (long story) who insisted I keep in touch.  I bought amazing brie, gouda, and aged parmesan cheese at the farmer's market - and enjoyed a lesson from the cheese maker.  I found an independently owned British book store reminiscent of Olssen's.  (I bought an Irish writer's best seller "The Mystery of Mercy Close" as well as Naomi Wolf's new book "Vagina")  I felt energy walking around this cosmopolitan European city, listening to the languages around me, on an incredible fall day.

Burg Eltz

On Sunday, we visited Rick Steve's favorite European castle - Burg Eltz.  The 80 room, 40 fireplace home included 20 toilets that automatically flushed by a rain drain and a conference room where family members could discuss their squabbles.  (Though with 80 rooms it seems easy to avoid someone)  The Eltz's owned the castle for 850 years, and a current family portrait hangs with those going back 33 generations.  The castle appears today as it did in 1490, the year they completed the upgrades.  I guess after 400 years the kitchen needed renovation.  (The original castle dates from 1157.)

After 90 minutes on the highway, our GPS took us through several small German towns on the way to the castle.  We felt like Jason Borne as we drove around narrow winding roads.  Of course, unlike  Matt Damon in a slick convertible with a hip French girl, we sat in our lumbering mini-van with two preschoolers requesting more snacks form the backseat.  When we arrived, the grouchy elderly parking attendant pointed us to a spot and mumbled about a hiking path to the castle.  The kids amazed us as we left the stroller behind for the 1.5 mile hike.  Despite being told to walk, the kids ran down the narrow wet path prompting Dave to say falling would teach them a lesson.  I said that I don't mind them falling, but I don't want them to die.  The rest of the hike Emily was in repeat "I don't mind falling but I don't want to die."

 Emily asked if this was Hogwarts castle.

The kids quietly sat on the floor in each room while the tour guide explained the architecture, furniture and art.  Owen couldn't resist petting the bear rug located behind the ropes in the hunting room.   The shorter route back to our car included a steep incline that made my legs burn.  After five minutes, Owen jumped on Dave's shoulders.  Emily and I lagged behind discussing how Owen gets everything and it's just not fair.

Dave and I enjoyed a peaceful ride home.

Opinions

My friend Beverly snubs her nose at Rudisheim and Heidelburg.  She says too many tourists detract from the charm of a German town.  Rick Steves agrees with her.  I explained how much our family loved both towns - the cathedrals, castles, and boat rides.  She suggested we visit Marburg so we could see the difference.

Marburg developed sometime around the 9th or 10th century as a trading town between Prague and Koln.  In the 1200's a widowed princess Elizabeth chose it as her town since she detested her brother in law.  Subsequently, she dedicated the rest of her life to the sick and nine years after her early death she became canonized.  In the 1500s, Marburg founded the first Protestant University in the world.  The Brother's Grimm entered the scene in the 18th century when Marburg became a leader in the Romanticism movement.  Currently, the University thrives and a cathedral marks Elizabeth's sainthood.

Skeptical there would be much difference, we plugged the town into our GPS and arrived an hour later.  We went straight to the TI only to find it opened at 1:00.  At a stranger's advice, we found an elevator to a picturesque street where we killed time eating.  (Our favorite European activity)  We went back to the TI only to realize I misread the sign the first time.  This place would remain closed all day, and instead, we should walk to the town's center to speak with a guide and procure maps.  (I really need to improve my German reading skills.)   By the time we actually headed toward the cathedral, the kids tolerance for the stroller and each other puttered out.  We parked the stroller atop of a big hill and ran down toward the cathedral.

The intricate stained glass, sandstone walls, and Gothic architecture amazed both Dave and me.    The benches, broom closets, and renovation scaffolding amazed the kids.  Dave and I respectfully crept into the sanctuary while Emily and Owen scrambled toward an early Renaissance alter piece.  Emily said "Mommy you just have to see this."   I thought "ohh an interest in art" until she excitedly showed me the closet.  I pointed out the painting to which she wondered out loud why the man was bleeding.  I sat both kids next to Elizabeth's statue and explained her story.  Owen asked if Swiper the Fox would also be making an appearance.   Eight minutes after entering the Cathedral, Dave and the kids left me inside to enjoy five minutes of art.  (Outside, the kids took turns sprinting in the courtyard.)

I did love the town and now understand Beverly's perspective.  I noticed few Americans, not much tourism, and a quaintness the other two town's lacked.  We ended the day with our favorite treats- ice cream and chocolates.

Table Talk

I avoid family dinners.  I prefer to feed the kids first.   Then, Dave and I actually enjoy our dinner without anyone throwing food on the ground, demanding more mac and cheese, or refusing to eat vegetables.  When it is just Dave and I,  I don't have to raise my voice or say "Stay in your seat. How many times do I have to repeat myself?"  I feel a sense of relief around seven.  The kids quietly watch Shrek III for the hundredth time (great strong female characters).  We poor our wine, eat at a leisurely pace, and complete our sentences.

Today, I finished cooking early and against my better judgment, set the table for four.  The yelling began immediately.  "I am not eating grapes or green beans."  "Emily is hitting me."  I watched wearily as bread fell to the floor.  Taking notes from my friend Cheryl, I redirected the conversation and asked everyone to tell their favorite part of the day.  Dave judiciously told stories about both kids.  Emily explained how much she loved eating lunch, without Owen, at Dave's golf course.  (Concerned I would feel left out, she gave a shout out to our chess lesson stating it was also her favorite part.) Then, Owen started explaing his favorite part.  Still new at describing real events, Owen's "favorite part" story quickly turned into a long sordid tale involving each member of his class somehow hitting, biting, or scratching his eyes out.  When he ran out of classmates, he turned to beloved storybook characters.  I thought you might enjoy a clip.  Welcome to our dinner table....