There are three (possibly four) massive updates on the way, covering the last three weeks of travel and overall excitement and exertion. Not to fear, I am intact and in Ireland, and working to bring you the very best quality of writing and photos spanning three countries.
I sound like a money back-guarantee. Good thing you don't pay me anything to read this.
Showing posts with label germany. Show all posts
Showing posts with label germany. Show all posts
22 April 2009
15 April 2009
Deutschland, the Homeland
I took off at 9.15am from a po-dunk little airport called Kerry, situated in the background of Killarney, for an hour-long flight to Frankfurt-Hahn, a slightly bigger po-dunk airport in the background of Frankfurt am Main, where I finally met Vanessa Schöps and her daughter Amy. My ‘cousins’ in Germany.
It was a long day as we drove down the Autobahn, a two-hour ride to Cologne (Köln), where we met Vanessa’s friend Tanya at her home and she treated us to a relaxing evening the exquisitely warm weather of the German springtime. That evening, as we sat in the backyard and soaked in the long-setting sun and Vanessa introduced me to the taste of Jagermeister, I felt like I could be anywhere in America, in the country summer sun and the vegetation, if I hadn’t been talking in my fractured German and trying to catch clips of conversation as they flew overhead.
We woke the next morning to the traditional breakfast of Brötchen- rolls with jam and honey, cheese, meats, butter, all the usual- and headed out to see the highlight of Cologne, the Kölner Dom, Cologne’s resident cathedral. At a whopping 509 stairs, we took to the task of climbing the monolith. The view from the top was partially blocked by mesh webbing and tagged by a thousand different languages and names from the bell tower on up. The outside is a traditional gothic structure highly reminiscent of the Scott Monument in Edinburgh, and by far one of my favorite architectural styles.
At the base of the Kölner Dom.
The rest of the day was spent waltzing around Cologne and down to the edge of the Rhine, which runs through the city, where half the population seemed crowded onto the promenade to take in the sun. We relaxed there as Tanya’s boyfriend and company tried to find an open grocery store to buy ‘fleisch’ and host a cookout, which took place that afternoon before we took off for Vanessa’s home in Siegen.
The next few days were spent in the company of Vanessa and Amy in their beautiful and bright apartment overlooking a quiet cemetery and part of the seven hills of Siegen. Here I was introduced to a few of Vanessa’s neighbors and their children. Two of the girls, both around Amy’s age, thought it was terrific that I spoke English and spent a good amount of time asking me questions in the language as I tried to speak back in my rusty German. Afternoons were spent either walking through Siegen’s Obere Schloss (Obere Castle and Park) or lounging on backyard balconies while a thunderstorm (my first in months) poured overheard.
Siegen itself reminds me very much of Pittsburgh, a hilly town with a decidedly industrial feel of railroad tracks and low metal buildings. The main historical attractions include the Schlosspark, a centuries-old castle turned public park, with a small venue for children’s plays and many, many flowers. There we took Mogli, Vanessa and Amy’s 10-year-old hound, to run for a bit in the sun and air.
The other main attraction is the Krönchen, or “little crown,” the town’s main cathedral church, which is capped with a gold crown circling the cross overhead. In our attempt to see the inside we found it closed, so we sat of the steps for a while, taking the small downhill streets and decidedly Germany architecture of the surrounding city buildings.
Siegen from the steps of the Krönchen.
Around Siegen it fades into green pines and dark forests, interspersed by hills, lakes, and the very well designed highway infrastructure of the country. Easter morning was spent sunning by one of these lakes as people in fine sweaters and shoes took walks with the family or paddled around the water in kayaks and canoes. The amount of people on bicycle in Germany is intriguing. All around Siegen, and even Koblenz and Cologne, people on pedals made up a good portion of the moving population.
One evening Vanessa told me the story of her discovery of her ‘American cousins,’ while studying English at age 16. It was her mother who informed Vanessa of her grandfather’s brother, Henry, who left for America, and Vanessa’s own search for the two sons who now lived there. Vanessa’s own grandfather, Otto Fischbach, stayed in Germany and married, living out his life in a small town near Siegen called Wenden. It was a teenage Vanessa who took it on herself to call America, dialing my own Woodbine house. She admits she had no idea what my father was saying on the phone and was forced to seek the aid of a neighbor in translation. You can see in her face how much she wants to see the States, and in that I can understand, albeit reversely. The want to seek one’s own family; in my case, my roots, in her case, long-lost relations. Both of her parents have passed away now, one buried in the cemetery behind her apartment complex, the other in a cemetery across town.
It felt good, releasing almost, and infinitely interesting to think of the genealogical ties I share with these two people. The granddaughters of two men, meeting again almost a century gone, and the paths that brought me there, to that tiny German town, standing on a back-balcony as afternoon became lost in dusk, somewhere close to where my own great-grandparents walked.
Amy's chucks (pink) and my chucks (green.) Sehr bunt, nein?
My final dinner in Germany was spent at a fine little Italian place called Mona Lisa’s, situated in what appears to be a back alley near the Siegen town center. The fine little outdoor seating area situated Vanessa, Amy, myself, and two German men, friends of Vanessa I had met the day before.
When one pictures these two, it is remarkable that such characters exist. Gunter, an old friend of Vanessa’s, is an older man, grey-haired and edging into his mid-sixties I would guess. A larger man, he wore the quintessential German garb of suspenders and hosted a mustache, the round, approachable face in which I could see hints of my own father’s, and a most apparent cross-eye. He had worked on an American base in Germany for a number of years as a young man, and even gone to the States, as far as California and Washington. He knew a good amount of English and our conversations were filled with his thoughts on American food (most notably the poor quality of bread and sour cream) as well as the way in which the US Armed Forces operate (an opinionated subject, I assure you.) He was most intrigued at the idea of student loans, and asked a good number of questions about my ability to study abroad in Ireland; was I funded? How often did American students come overseas?
His companion was a tall, skinny fellow with high socks and pants that ended at about the mid-calf, a tie-die shirt and brown vest, a face with long features and even longer hair. Eki spoke little English, but seemed to serve mainly to aid Gunter, who was in poor health. I was unable to get a picture of either of them, but in my mind they exist well. It was the most interesting experience to talk to these men who by appearance were the most quintessentially German-looking fellows I had ever seen and full of the most interesting and enlightening conversation I had on my journey.
The following day we set out after breakfast to Koblenz, to die Deutches Eck- “The Corner of Germany”- where the Moselle River meets the Rhine. It was another warm, sunny day as we pulled up outside the apartment of another of Vanessa’s friends, an older woman who invited us in for a drink while Amy ran off with the other children that were inexorably present.
Vanessa, myself, and a friend who came to Koblenz with us- a girl of about 26 who was studying in Siegen- walked across the Mosel and through the city to the Eck, a pointed corner lined with provincial flags and commemorated with a bronze statue of Wilhelm the I. Koblenz itself was a fine city full of yet more architectural wonders, where small streets opened up to fountains an plazas, dipped into small garden seats and riverside palisades. After lunch we lounged barefoot by the Mosel as the angle of the sun slowly dipped, until at about 6 we decided to get going so that I could catch my flight.
As Vanessa said goodbye and I dropped by bag by the check-in she handed me a small flat package of thanks and along with a hug, said wiedersehen. I sat by the gate for my plane and turned the package over in my hands, finally pulling back the paper to reveal a green hardback children’s book entitled “Was ist Glück?” My rusty, but improved German revealed the story of two small pigs looking for luck. A kind, beautiful little German gift for the Irish in me.
Monument to Wilhelm I at die Deutches Eck.
As my flight was called I piled the book into my bag and hopped up, ready for my next stop in the ancient metropolis of Rome.
It was a long day as we drove down the Autobahn, a two-hour ride to Cologne (Köln), where we met Vanessa’s friend Tanya at her home and she treated us to a relaxing evening the exquisitely warm weather of the German springtime. That evening, as we sat in the backyard and soaked in the long-setting sun and Vanessa introduced me to the taste of Jagermeister, I felt like I could be anywhere in America, in the country summer sun and the vegetation, if I hadn’t been talking in my fractured German and trying to catch clips of conversation as they flew overhead.
We woke the next morning to the traditional breakfast of Brötchen- rolls with jam and honey, cheese, meats, butter, all the usual- and headed out to see the highlight of Cologne, the Kölner Dom, Cologne’s resident cathedral. At a whopping 509 stairs, we took to the task of climbing the monolith. The view from the top was partially blocked by mesh webbing and tagged by a thousand different languages and names from the bell tower on up. The outside is a traditional gothic structure highly reminiscent of the Scott Monument in Edinburgh, and by far one of my favorite architectural styles.
At the base of the Kölner Dom.The rest of the day was spent waltzing around Cologne and down to the edge of the Rhine, which runs through the city, where half the population seemed crowded onto the promenade to take in the sun. We relaxed there as Tanya’s boyfriend and company tried to find an open grocery store to buy ‘fleisch’ and host a cookout, which took place that afternoon before we took off for Vanessa’s home in Siegen.
The next few days were spent in the company of Vanessa and Amy in their beautiful and bright apartment overlooking a quiet cemetery and part of the seven hills of Siegen. Here I was introduced to a few of Vanessa’s neighbors and their children. Two of the girls, both around Amy’s age, thought it was terrific that I spoke English and spent a good amount of time asking me questions in the language as I tried to speak back in my rusty German. Afternoons were spent either walking through Siegen’s Obere Schloss (Obere Castle and Park) or lounging on backyard balconies while a thunderstorm (my first in months) poured overheard.
Siegen itself reminds me very much of Pittsburgh, a hilly town with a decidedly industrial feel of railroad tracks and low metal buildings. The main historical attractions include the Schlosspark, a centuries-old castle turned public park, with a small venue for children’s plays and many, many flowers. There we took Mogli, Vanessa and Amy’s 10-year-old hound, to run for a bit in the sun and air.
The other main attraction is the Krönchen, or “little crown,” the town’s main cathedral church, which is capped with a gold crown circling the cross overhead. In our attempt to see the inside we found it closed, so we sat of the steps for a while, taking the small downhill streets and decidedly Germany architecture of the surrounding city buildings.
Siegen from the steps of the Krönchen.Around Siegen it fades into green pines and dark forests, interspersed by hills, lakes, and the very well designed highway infrastructure of the country. Easter morning was spent sunning by one of these lakes as people in fine sweaters and shoes took walks with the family or paddled around the water in kayaks and canoes. The amount of people on bicycle in Germany is intriguing. All around Siegen, and even Koblenz and Cologne, people on pedals made up a good portion of the moving population.
One evening Vanessa told me the story of her discovery of her ‘American cousins,’ while studying English at age 16. It was her mother who informed Vanessa of her grandfather’s brother, Henry, who left for America, and Vanessa’s own search for the two sons who now lived there. Vanessa’s own grandfather, Otto Fischbach, stayed in Germany and married, living out his life in a small town near Siegen called Wenden. It was a teenage Vanessa who took it on herself to call America, dialing my own Woodbine house. She admits she had no idea what my father was saying on the phone and was forced to seek the aid of a neighbor in translation. You can see in her face how much she wants to see the States, and in that I can understand, albeit reversely. The want to seek one’s own family; in my case, my roots, in her case, long-lost relations. Both of her parents have passed away now, one buried in the cemetery behind her apartment complex, the other in a cemetery across town.
It felt good, releasing almost, and infinitely interesting to think of the genealogical ties I share with these two people. The granddaughters of two men, meeting again almost a century gone, and the paths that brought me there, to that tiny German town, standing on a back-balcony as afternoon became lost in dusk, somewhere close to where my own great-grandparents walked.
Amy's chucks (pink) and my chucks (green.) Sehr bunt, nein?My final dinner in Germany was spent at a fine little Italian place called Mona Lisa’s, situated in what appears to be a back alley near the Siegen town center. The fine little outdoor seating area situated Vanessa, Amy, myself, and two German men, friends of Vanessa I had met the day before.
When one pictures these two, it is remarkable that such characters exist. Gunter, an old friend of Vanessa’s, is an older man, grey-haired and edging into his mid-sixties I would guess. A larger man, he wore the quintessential German garb of suspenders and hosted a mustache, the round, approachable face in which I could see hints of my own father’s, and a most apparent cross-eye. He had worked on an American base in Germany for a number of years as a young man, and even gone to the States, as far as California and Washington. He knew a good amount of English and our conversations were filled with his thoughts on American food (most notably the poor quality of bread and sour cream) as well as the way in which the US Armed Forces operate (an opinionated subject, I assure you.) He was most intrigued at the idea of student loans, and asked a good number of questions about my ability to study abroad in Ireland; was I funded? How often did American students come overseas?
His companion was a tall, skinny fellow with high socks and pants that ended at about the mid-calf, a tie-die shirt and brown vest, a face with long features and even longer hair. Eki spoke little English, but seemed to serve mainly to aid Gunter, who was in poor health. I was unable to get a picture of either of them, but in my mind they exist well. It was the most interesting experience to talk to these men who by appearance were the most quintessentially German-looking fellows I had ever seen and full of the most interesting and enlightening conversation I had on my journey.
The following day we set out after breakfast to Koblenz, to die Deutches Eck- “The Corner of Germany”- where the Moselle River meets the Rhine. It was another warm, sunny day as we pulled up outside the apartment of another of Vanessa’s friends, an older woman who invited us in for a drink while Amy ran off with the other children that were inexorably present.
Vanessa, myself, and a friend who came to Koblenz with us- a girl of about 26 who was studying in Siegen- walked across the Mosel and through the city to the Eck, a pointed corner lined with provincial flags and commemorated with a bronze statue of Wilhelm the I. Koblenz itself was a fine city full of yet more architectural wonders, where small streets opened up to fountains an plazas, dipped into small garden seats and riverside palisades. After lunch we lounged barefoot by the Mosel as the angle of the sun slowly dipped, until at about 6 we decided to get going so that I could catch my flight.
As Vanessa said goodbye and I dropped by bag by the check-in she handed me a small flat package of thanks and along with a hug, said wiedersehen. I sat by the gate for my plane and turned the package over in my hands, finally pulling back the paper to reveal a green hardback children’s book entitled “Was ist Glück?” My rusty, but improved German revealed the story of two small pigs looking for luck. A kind, beautiful little German gift for the Irish in me.
Monument to Wilhelm I at die Deutches Eck.As my flight was called I piled the book into my bag and hopped up, ready for my next stop in the ancient metropolis of Rome.
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