Hessenpark

Today we visited Hessenpark, an open-air museum that has been on our must-see list for a while. Founded in the 1970s, Hessenpark was built to show how life was hundreds of years ago in Hessen, with people demonstrating all sorts of crafts and skills, such as farming, spinning wool, basket weaving, tending animals, beer brewing, bread baking and blacksmithing.

That was what we were expecting. Instead, we chose a time where many exhibits were closed and the majority of the buildings were covered in scaffolding as they were undergoing renovation.

The windmill wasn't scheduled to run during our visit.

Petting this donkey was the highlight of our time here, until it roughly but probably playfully headbutted Emilie in the gut. The hysterical tears are not pictured.

This basket weaver's fingers moved like lightening. He was the only person at the whole park we saw demonstrating a skill or craft.

A window on the building displaying some puppets.



On the way home, we stopped by Saalburg, the remains of a Roman fortification. We got out of the car and the temperature seemed to have dropped by 20 degrees and the fog was thick, too foggy for pictures. I found the photo below on-line.

The kids were bored and miserable and did not feel like traipsing around anymore, even if the fort was an almost 2,000 year-old authentic site this time.

Well, it wasn't. The fortification was a 19th century reconstruction. This was not the day we were hoping for. After staring at the wall and front entrance for a few minutes, shivering the whole time, we all got back into the car and drove home.

David said that the whole day made him feel like Clark Griswold from National Lampoon's Vacation movies. He tried to keep up the enthusiasm, but it just didn't work.

Wall-E and a few surprises

The kids have off all this week and with David unable to take off work due to important meetings, so we've been stuck at home. I just didn't have the guts to take an adventure alone with four kids. We needed to do something fun, so I took the kids to see Wall-E, the latest film by Disney-Pixar, in German yesterday.

At first, the screen was covered by a curtain, which opened and we viewed about 10 minutes worth of commercials. A bank ad, Eva Langoria nibbling seductively on a Magnum ice cream bar, an ad to encourage people to go to the movies, etc. Then, the next one shows a couple in bed gazing at each other longingly. There are close-ups of fingers caressing bare skin as sultry music plays. A message is displayed that says (as far as I can remember it): "You are this close. Talk to each other. Just say it." And then there's a closeup of a condom in a transparent wrapper being handed to the lucky guy. What!!!???? Are we not here to see a children's movie?

The lights came on and the curtains closed. We are here to see Wall-E, right? I thought to myself.

Thirty seconds later, the curtain opened again and it was time for the movie trailers: High School Musical 3, Ice Age 3, Madagascar 2 and an ad for a comedy for grown-ups about some bozo on a submarine. In the middle of the trailer, he dropped his pants and mooned us all.

I was shocked. Germans are more open about sex and nudity, but does the fact that this showing was for a children's film mean nothing? Brief nudity in commercials and even more in movies at night on German TV doesn't bother me and I know I can count on seeing naked bodies in the magazine and DVD racks at the store. And you should see the 2009 calendars on display everywhere. Believe me, there's plenty "on display."

But those ads before Wall-E took me by surprise. Our children are certainly getting an education here.

First Week of German Class

Many weeks ago, I went to our local Volkshochschule to be tested for placement in a German course. These Volkshochschule are found all over Germany and offer all sorts of continuing education courses: literature, art, dance, history, and many languages among others. I was placed in Level A, Course 2 (each level is divided into 2 courses), just where I was hoping to be put. I opted for the more intensive course, which would meet four days a week for four hours each day. My biggest concern was that I was out of school-mode and worried that I wouldn't be able to handle such an intense class, but a friend who took the same set of classes promised me that this was not a university-level course.

The first day I felt a bit unprepared: I was not given the book in advance (I had requested the books for Course 1 and 2, to look them over) and I wasn't even sure what other materials were necessary. When I got to the school, I didn't know where I was allowed to park (no parking lot) and then the classroom was locked and there didn't seem to be other people milling about. Was I in the right place? It put a whole new perspective on how brave our children were on their first day of classes at the international school over a year ago.

The teacher finally arrived, unlocked the door and suddenly there was a whole line of people entering the class, each one placing some sort of baked good or dish on a table in the middle of the room. And they all seemed to know each other and just chatted away. OK, now I really doubted that I was in the right place. I sat down next to a young lady and asked her if this was indeed German Course 2, and she said yes.

As I fiddled with my papers and pens, I heard a gruff voice right next to me loudly proclaim, "Enschuldigung! Sie sind in mein Platz!" (Excuse me! You're in my seat!). I turned my head and met the eye of the angriest-looking Eastern European woman I have ever seen. And when, in shock, I hesitated, she gave me a look that conveyed, "And if you don't move ASAP, I'm gonna knock your block off!"

My heart skipped a beat and my eyes quickly scanned the room. Everyone was staring at us, waiting to see what would happen next. I then proceeded to do an imitation of a terrified dog rolling over on its back in submission. I raised my hands, open-palmed up to my shoulders and said in German "No problem," gathered up my belongings and vacated my seat. Another woman patted one of the few remaining chairs next to her and said, "Here. Sit here." Someone else said something in a low voice to the big mean bully and she answered (in German), slapping her books down on the table, "Well, I'm sorry! But I've been coming here for a month and that's my seat!"

OK. I was in the Twilight Zone. Isn't this the first day of class? Why did everyone bring food and who is this dangerous person who looked like she wanted to punch me?

Once that was settled, the teacher announced, "I know this is supposed to be the first day of Course 2, but since we missed a day last week, this is really the last day of Course 1. We will have class, take a test and then have a little party."

Ahhh, that explains it. But during the next 5 minutes, I was having an internal struggle. These people, including that woman, are all probably signed up to continue on to Course 2. Everyone just saw what happened. I am basically persona non grata. I can end this now. I can get up, walk out and transfer into a different class. But this is the class that best fits my schedule. What to do?

To make matters worse, everyone had to tell what they did over the weekend. When it was my turn, I just answered questions the teacher fired at me. When I said that I was from the U.S., a surprised-sounding murmur went through the room. Was that a positive or negative murmur? And, I had to order my textbook from a bookstore somewhere and it would take a few days. Now, why didn't they tell me that when I asked about the books in the first place? I could have had the books all along! Thankfully, there was one other new student in the class who seemed almost as disoriented as I was.

I was still shaken that night while relating what had happened to David. Should I transfer? We decided that I should give it another day and see. I mean really! I am a grown woman, so why am I letting that brute make me feel like a frightened child? But she really was big and really did glare at me like she was going to sock me.

I had my plan for the next day. I sat in my car until the last minute, figuring I would be the last person in the room and could claim a free seat without a battle. That worked out OK. And there were even more new people the second day. But what to do about the break? We have a 20-minute break in the middle of the class and I had noticed the day before that everyone went downstairs to the school café and sat together. I was not comfortable trying to strike up a conversation with these people who already had their own established clique and saw me being humiliated the day before.

As I shuffled things around at my seat near the end of the break, the group sent an emissary. A Korean woman entered the room alone and asked in English, "Christine, why don't you sit with us downstairs?" What a difference that made. I told her that I would be happy to join them the next day. And I did and the class seemed to go much more smoothly.

I now know where to park, where to sit, I have my book, and joined the English conversation during break the next day. Much better. We have a two-week break now, so by the time classes resume, the slate should have been wiped clean. Though I won't be suggesting that that woman and I go see Sex and the City together at the cinema any time soon, I no longer feel intimidated by her. Gulp.

House Slippers

Our kids are still in the habit of removing their shoes when they enter the house. We instituted this rule in Atlanta in a futile attempt to keep our carpets in decent shape. The orange Georgia clay took its toll in spite of our "No Shoes!" rule.

Here in Germany, people are also in the habit of leaving their shoes at the door, but with no carpet, the wood and tile floors get cold. Most Germans have a pair of house slippers they slide on when coming home. When Rebecca's little friend Jonna comes to play at our house, she brings her own slippers.

I bought myself a pair last year and wear them almost at all times around the house and Rebecca needed a pair to keep at Kindergarten. The first things we do when we get to school each morning is take off her coat and shoes and put on her house slippers.

At our house, though, the kids have been running around in stocking feet and I have asked in passing if they wanted slippers, but they all said no thanks. It was finally James who requested house slippers last week. Off we went to the Walmart-eque store and spent quite a bit of time sorting through the different types. Some look like typical American slippers, some like sandals, some have zippers and some velcro. They all managed to find a pair in their size they liked.

No more cold feet here.

Mamma Mia!

This evening, I saw Mamma Mia! for the 2-1/2 time. The first time was at the Turmpalast, a movie theater in Frankfurt that shows films in their original versions (i.e. original language or o.v.). When I first walked into the room showing Mamma Mia!, I laughed. There were maybe 100 seats and the screen was maybe 8 feet long and 3 feet high. I have seen bigger screens in friends' homes back in Atlanta. A bit of a disappoint to be sure, but once the film began, I forgot about the screen size and enjoyed the movie, especially because it featured my fave Colin Firth, who is good no matter the film, or the nature of his character (wink, wink, nudge, nudge).

The 1/2 time was a few weeks ago when our local theatre was showing Mamma Mia! in o.v., but only two times. The kids are familiar with some of ABBA's music and I thought they would like this little school-night surprise. David met us for a quick dinner at McDonald's and then we went to see the movie right next door. We were put into the wrong room at first (it was packed) and boy, were we surprised when the actors started speaking German! We hightailed it out of there and found the correct room. In the o.v., the dialogue is dubbed into German, but the songs are in their original English with German subtitles.

It didn't take long for dear, sweet Rebecca to decide that she wasn't all that interested in Mamma Mia!, no matter how cute Colin Firth was. We were in the back row, but her jumping from seat to seat and my hissing at her to behave were starting to bother the 10 or so other audience members, so, Rebecca and I left.

The next time was tonight. Feeling quite cheated after the previous viewing, I invited our neighbor Anne to join me, this time to see the German version. She asked, "But will you be OK seeing it in German?" I answered, "Well, I've seen it before so I know the story, and they break out into song every 5 minutes. Yeah, I'll be OK."

While we were waiting for the the film to start, I laughingly told Anne about the tiny screen at the Turmpalast. Her eyebrows rose and she said, "But that was how all movie theaters were when I was growing up! These huge screens are pretty recent." Oops. Definitely felt like a spoiled American.

The film was great, even in German, but I think I can now wait for the DVD to see it again.

For those of you who aren't familiar with Colin Firth, and enjoy smart dialogue and a strong female lead character, do yourself a favor and get your hands on a copy of Pride and Prejudice (1995). Your life will never be the same.

Wagon Wine Ride

Our church organized a wagon wine ride at a vineyard for tonight, and I signed up with my friend Kathy, although I didn't know exactly what it entailed. It was basically a night of riding in a wagon through a vineyard and drinking wine. I should have been able to figure that one out.

We all piled into a bus for the one-hour ride to the Vineyard Heise am Kranzberg in Nierstein along the Rhein River. Upon our arrival, we immediately piled onto a tractor-drawn wagon, were handed some wurst and brötchen and told to open the cooler located at our feet and uncork a bottle of wine for goodness sake! For two hours, we sampled many different bottles of wine, munched on our snacks and enjoyed the sunset view of the countryside.

Three hot-air balloons drifted over the vineyards.

As the night went on, things got a bit rowdy, with political and sports debates and lots of singing.

Stopping to stretch our legs and enjoy the view.

With my good friend Kathy.

We ended the evening with dinner at the vineyard restaurant and a tour of their cellars. These oak barrels are for fermenting and aging red wine....

....and these stainless steel ones are better for white.

We could, of course, buy some of the wine from the vineyard and most of us found the Riesling Hipping trocken (a dry white wine) especially tasty.

Yet Another Driving Test

The stress of driving lessons and submitting to a written and road test took their toll on me earlier this year. It was with the greatest relief that I handed over my U.S. driver's license in exchange for my hard-fought-for German one. David's light-hearted jabs along the way, since he was exempt from the lessons and tests, did little to lighten my mood about the whole thing.

At least he thought he was exempt. We initially went back and forth several times about whether or not we would need to take the tests at all. We were relieved to hear that our state of Hessen had an exemption to the "Americans from Georgia must take the tests" rule. Then, it became "Only Americans working in Hessen were exempt." That's when I began taking driving lessons (which were required) and the gentle teasing remarks from my dear husband began.

All this while, paperwork work requesting an exemption for David was shuffled from one government desk to another, with several people signing off on it. At the desk of the last official, though, David's luck ran out. He was not exempt after all. The exemption was only for "Americans working for American companies in Hessen."

It was rather gratifying to see my husband scratching his head over the vaguely-worded English translation of the driver's manual and then coming home from lessons remarking that there was something strange about the German road signs. He swore they were at a different height than American ones. What other reason could there be for often missing seeing important ones? And explaining some of the questions on the practice tests? There were no light-hearted jabs from me, just satisfied smirks.

David passed the written test a few weeks ago with a perfect score (a better score than mine), and then this morning took the driving test. Thankfully, the official administering the test did not ask why he was almost a year late taking the test.

In Germany during a road test, your instructor sits next to you and the official sits in the back and just tells you what to do. My instructor had assured me that by the time you take the test, the officials are expecting and hoping that you pass. "He has your license in his pocket and he wants to give it to you!" It's true that when I passed, the official was very happy for me and seemed a bit puzzled that I just sighed with relief instead of jumping for joy.

David wasn't that stressed about taking the test this morning. The only pressure he felt was the need to match my performance of passing the test on the first try. He had no need to worry, he did just fine. For some reason, he was able to keep his American license, whereas I had to surrender mine (after several discussions justifying why I should be able to keep it were rejected). We think it just depended on which government official you talked to that day.