So is he coming, or isn’t he? Kids around the world, well the Christian &/or western world I should say, are wondering if & hoping that St. Nick makes an appearance tonight. Even in northern Germany, the little ones are waiting for the Weihnachtsmann (Christmas man, literally).
He purportedly comes early enough on Xmas Eve that the kiddos in that neck of the woods can open all their gifts sometime this afternoon/evening. This is all hearsay, though. I’ve neither had children in northern Germany nor been a child there. Here in Bavaria, though, I know the drill. It’s not the Christmas man here, but instead the Christkind (Christ child) hauls all that loot to the little boys & girls. Please don’t ask me to judge this complete hogwash. I’m sorry, but I’ve got a hard enough time with the whole St. Nicolas scenario. Even if he manages Germany in the afternoon here, he can’t get to the rest of the Christian world in one night.
The little baby Jesus, on the other hand. Now that’s plausible. I’m with Ricky Bobby on this one. When I pray, I turn to the infant 👶 in swaddling clothes. I look at my baby in her childlike innocence & I think, ‘It’s gonna be a lot easier to get this one to give me cool stuff than it would’ve been with that grumpy old Santa geezer.’
Our baby is easily distracted, so I assume the deity in his smallest person form would be a piece of cake to bamboozle. This is a great idea. The more I think about it, I think this might be the best Christmas EVAH!
I’ll let you know how it goes with my Christkind heist.
Recently came across the term ‘nomophobia‘ and it couldn’t have entered my vocabulary at a more opportune moment. That feeling when you’ve made it out the door, but something just isn’t quite right. You know you must’ve forgotten something, yet you just can’t put your finger on it. Then suddenly you realise, ‘Where’s my phone?‘
That’s what nomophobia is: no + mo(bile) + phobia. Fear of not having your mobile phone. Some of you are predictably thinking, ‘Has it really come to this?‘ The easy answer is yes. Yes, it has.
On that note, I have a story for you. For quite a few, it won’t sound like all that big a deal. I’m already predicting rolling of the eyes and poorly stifled sighs. Say what you want, for me it was a horror story. One moment everything was fine. It was a beautiful sunny day in Bavaria, and I was walking through the streets with a spring in my step.
Somehow it was almost cinematic the way it unfolded. Wish I could say a black cloud darkened the sky or a menacing bird entered the frame, but in reality there was nothing that could have foretold what would happen next. Instead it was a film in which the absence of trouble made you all the more uncomfortable.
Now that I look back on it, I can say something was definitely about to happen, but that’s unquestionably a matter of seeing it in retrospect. Instead, it came out of nowhere. One minute I had my phone in my hand, and suddenly time slowed to a crawl. As if a scene that could only have been created with CGI effects, I could see my phone with its pristine screen fly out of my hands and take on a life of its own.
Through the air it flew, the music swelled to a crescendo and then BAM. It slammed to the ground and right at that moment time returned to normal. The screen was covered in a spiderweb of cracked glass. There was no amount of wishing that was going to turn time back and make this one right again. If it was a car, you’d say it was totalled. The screen, at least. The phone itself seemed fine.
Luckily, there’s a place in downtown Munich that replaces phone screens while you wait. Yet that’s where the second part of the horror story comes in. The woman at the shop said I’d have to be without my phone for an hour and a half. No sweat, right? Easier said than done.
Another exercise in the fluidity of time occurred at this point. I stumbled out into the late afternoon sunlight and looked ahead at the vast expanse of time in which I’d have to interact with the world in analog. Just me and the street and all its goings on. I had a camera in my bag, but what use was that to me if I couldn’t immediately share the photo on just one of a variety of platforms? Wish I could say that was a rhetorical question, but it was a genuine conundrum in that moment.
Self reflective, I could certainly chuckle at myself and think back to a time when most of us weren’t carrying mini computers in our pockets. As easily as I could laugh at myself, it was still quite an uncomfortable position to be in. The hands on the clock of the Neues Rathaus (New Town Hall) at the Marienplatz were barely moving as the tourists stared up oblivious to my plight.
It’d been only ten minutes since I’d left the repair shop, but I was tempted to ask a Japanese woman with a selfie stick if I could commandeer her phone for a few moments. This was ridiculous. Calmly, I took a few deep breaths and reminded myself that I could get through this.
Remembering countless inspirational talks about the reframing of a seemingly overwhelming situation, I resolved to see this as a unique opportunity. Free of my shackles, from this new perspective I could savour a newfound independence. For a little more than an hour, my time was all mine. No one could interrupt my thoughts or demand my time.
All of a sudden, I was like one of those ‘simplify your life‘ articles in which my existence was magically transformed by simply eschewing some form of technology that made the rest of us slaves to the machine. Looking ahead, I imagined writing this text about the myriad inspirations and epiphanies I would encounter in this new caveman life in which I was immersed.
I wish I could say that my visions sped up time or made all of it more bearable. Sadly, it wasn’t the case. Some time in a nice café with a copy of the local paper, which kept me wonderful company, was my saving grace. Oh, and the last thing I did before relinquishing my mobile to the screen doctors who calmed me by assuring they’d ‘make it all better’ was to text a friend where I was going to be for the next hour or so.
She met me there, I set the paper down, we looked into each other’s eyes like people in old movies used to do and then we had a conversation. Just like that. It was pure decadence.
This isn’t a horror story, after all. Got the phone back, of course, and sent a few messages assuring folk that I was still among the living. Happy ending, right? Well, more than you might think. A few times since then, I’ve just left the phone at home.
Can’t you just see me? Walking in the park with the dogs? Like a genuine person. Somehow I think the Information Superhighway will survive me taking the off ramp more regularly. Believe it or not, I can’t wait.
This blog has been only about refugees lately, and as much as I’m still obsessed with the topic (more on that another time), there’s so much else going on. Other things need to be dealt with. And quickly.
For example: people climbing objects in public & standing on said objects. Like in the photo above.
The headline reads: ‘How did the American get on the roof of the toilet?‘
My strong suspicion is that he climbed up there. The question they probably wanted to ask was: What on earth was he thinking when he decided to scale the toilet inside the tent at the Oktoberfest? Why indeed.
It is the Oktoberfest. There are plenty of similar stories during these two weeks.
The curious thing is this isn’t the only instance of something like this happening these days. Not just in Munich & not just during this exceptional time of year.
While scrolling through my feed on a social media site, which I choose not to mention by name, I saw a photo of a rather curvaceous woman naked from the waist down standing on a pay phone with multiple police officers below apparently trying to coax her to come down.
Despite the outlandishness of the visual, my immediate reaction was, ‘Where did they find a pay phone? I’ve not seen one of those in ages.‘
Once I got over that shock, I could move on to the more pressing question. Specifically, why are people climbing atop such objects?
Is this part of the Zeitgeist & I missed the memo? Should I be climbing on things & belligerently refusing to come down? That’d certainly make this blog more entertaining at the very least.
I’m not going to include the image here of the woman I’ve mentioned. Nevertheless, I’m confident if you type ‘naked woman on top of pay phone‘, you’ll locate it rather easily. But you should probably do that soon. My suspicion is the web is going to be flooded with this stuff before you know it.
The FilmfestMünchen is thankfully behind us. It’s the only week of the year where we can see a variety of independent film and even some not-yet-released-in-Europe bigger movies; however, the way I do it involves quite a lot of screenings. My eyes may or may not be rectangular, as a result.
There are still reviews to write and other projects in the pipeline, but I got a call from a good friend who’s visiting from the States. On her way back home tomorrow, the only way I was going to see her was to hop a train to Passau for the day.
What about my dogs Ella and Louis? Well, they’ve been riding the train since they were pups. This is almost second nature for them.
Ooh, here’s a photo I took of them a few years ago in Passau.
Passau is a gorgeous smaller Bavarian city on the Austrian border and not far from the Czech Republic. It was actually one of the first places I took the dogs after bringing them home from Hamburg.
Although Germans know about this gem of a city, I rarely see any English-speaking tourists there. Perhaps someone writing in English should be talking more about it. Someone who knows a bit about Bavaria and enjoys writing about all that’s going on there.
Looked out the window a little while ago, and it was actually snowing. The past few weeks have been unseasonably mild in Bavaria. When it’s been wet, everything’s gotten rather soggy.
While I’m always happy to see a bit of the white stuff falling from the sky, this fresh snowfall has made me particularly happy.
Everything feels somehow more peaceful in newly-fallen snow. My schedule is relatively light today, so right now I can take a walk through the park. When I get through with one more appointment in about an hour, I’ll hurry to pick up Ella and Louis (my sister and brother Vizslas that most of you know) and we’ll go for a long, stress-free walk along the Isar River that runs swiftly through Munich.
Plenty more to tell you, but it’ll have to wait for another time. The elements await me, after all.
We’re going to the Fischmarkt in Hamburg, baby. What’s that? Well, it’s actually a blogpost for another day. This is the Reeperbahn on the way to the Fischmarkt.
This is completely out of place in Hamburg. Bavaria might be in Germany, but it and Hamburg are polar opposites in so many ways. I’ll write more about this at some point. It’s really remarkable how different the cool, detached Northeners are in contrast to the very boisterous, hearty Southerners. I could have a whole blog about those differences. Not just a blogpost. A whole blog.
This is the world-famous Reeperbahn, which is the high street that goes through the St Pauli neighbourhood on Hamburg. It’s where the sailors came for their leave and where both German and international tourists come for probably Europe’s second most famous red-light district. Yes, there are whores. Of course there are. St Pauli wouldn’t be the same without them. Get over it. It’s only your puritanical leanings that mayke you think prostitution shouldn’t be legal. Well, that and that they’re notoriously poorly treated the world over. There is that, I suppose.
Rarely, do I trust one of these characters. Clowns are ok, but jongleurs? Nothing good ever comes from a jongleur. Nothing.
This one’s really personal. I’m not sure if any of my readers can tell you what this is, but if you know, leave it in the comments. The winner gets a prize. Really. Who says Lahikmajoe never gave you anything?
This was an exciting day for me. My friend Nick was in Berlin when The Wall came down, and I’ve always been envious of that experience. I’ve been near historical events, but I’m not sure I want to be anywhere near the tanks or the stress that seem to be involved in real historical moments.
However, today was the twenty-second anniversary of that event. The Reunification of Germany. One of the most momentous things that’s happened in our lifetime. I don’t care how old you are.
Each year, the celebration for the event goes to a different capital of a German federal state and this year? Horst Seehofer, the Minister President of Bavaria, is the head of the Bundesrat, which is one house of the federal government, and his state’s capital is my adopted hometown.
Munich – that’s right.
So, I got up early. Walked my dogs to the event and spent nearly the whole day there. With a few healthy breaks, I might add. Here’s my walk toward the festivities with a bit about said festivities.
Then I turned the corner into Nymphenburger Straße, which is the old King’s Road that the royals took to their summer castle. What might that castle be called? Nymphenburger Schloß, of course.
Ella and Louis love every day equally, but I like to kid myself that they were sensitive to my excitement.
Something I didn’t see nearly as often here as I do today – the German flag. Thanks to football and some sort of national healing, the co-perpetrators of the Second World War can finally say they’re proud of their country without being accused of being Fascists.
Please don’t ask me what this building was originally used for, but now it’s part of the Technische Üniversität.
Love ivy on a wall, and while these green and then later red leaves aren’t actually ivy, they crawl up the wall in the same way. It’s one of my favourite sights in autumn.
Now, we’ve finally arrived at the party. Here’s the Theatinerkirche on the Odeonsplatz:
Every party in Bavaria demands at least one Dachshund. This one had two.
There’s so much more to tell you about this day, but it’s late. It’ll have to wait for another day.
Next year’s festivities? Up the road in Stuttgart.
Isn’t she gaww-juss? My girl Bavaria. I like ’em big, you know. And her lion? I could let her stick around for the lion alone.
My band and I went to the Oktoberfest yesterday morning, but my hounds Ella and Louis insisted on accompanying us, so we knew we wouldn’t be actually going down to the Wies’n. Instead, our plan was to stay up above on the hill with the Bavaria statue whose photo you see above.
So, how does the world’s biggest folk festival look from up there? Let me show you.
That’s Munich’sFrauenkirche with her two Turms (towers) on the left, and then the Löwenbräu Festzelt on the right.
A lot of Munich’s architecture is inspired by the Greeks. Take for example these columns on the hill above the Wies’n. I’ll talk more about that in a later post, but I just liked this photo because it’s got the two images juxtaposed.
These guys make a killing every year. The turnover in each tent would astound you. It’s a massive economic surge to the city of Munich. The locals complain about how the Volksfest seems more for tourists every year, but they cannot deny the financial benefit to not just the people who make beer, but to the entire local tourism industry and limitless other local businesses.
If you read/look at more of my Oktoberfest posts, you’ll see that I’m obsessed with this church. I could take photos of it every single day. More soon…
When I was still relatively new in Bavaria, well Munich to be precise, my U-Bahn line was extended and they were offering free beer. Well, there was also a party in celebration of the new underground station, but the only part I heard when someone told me about it was ‘free beer’. That was all I needed to know. I was already there.
So today, roughly a decade later, I was back at the same U-Bahn stop, and I thought back fondly of that day when I was new and my German was shaky and the people at the Fest were exceedingly friendly.
The station at Georg-Brauchle-Ring is attractive complete with photos and maps interspersed with colorful tiles…this place always makes me smile. It’s not bad, is it?
Couldn’t find anything in English about the Eisheilige, so at least until the bots find this corner of the web, this’ll be the lone English explanation. Not sure I like the pressure.
The Eisheilige could be translated as ‘icy holy days‘, and I’ve also heard these days called the gestrenge Männer (‘strict men‘). It’s a weather phenomenon in central Europe in the middle of May in which it often gets unseasonably cold. Some places it’s three days, some four or five, and finally there are even places that consider the Eisheilige to be a full six days.
The Wikipedia entry tells me they’re the Saints’ Name Days for 11-15 May…here they are listed:
Purportedly, the stable spring weather can only occur after Holy Sophie is behind us. Sounds a bit unbelievable, doesn’t it? Like you can really predict the weather in such a way.
But here’s the thing. I’ve lived in Germany more than a decade now. More often than not Bavaria gets unseasonably cold for these several day in the middle of May. Almost without fail. And the rest of May is regularly quite beautiful. On this one, I’m going to trust the farmers. Just like Ben Franklin and his Farmer’s Almanac, they know what’s going on.
I’m sad to report that after the Eisheilige are past that we’re not quite done with such weather cycles. In June (sometime between the 4th and 20th of June…often exactly the 11th of June) we have the Schafskälte (cold sheep days). Again, there’s unseasonably cold weather. Not every year, but often enough that it’s even got a name. Named after the sheep. Not too shabby.