We've been naughty

A few months ago, our church welcomed its new priest, an English fellow named Father John. He has been getting settled and has now begun to make some changes.

Today, right before the distribution of Holy Communion, he turned to the congregation and said, "When you receive Holy Communion, take the host and consume it immediately. Then, if you choose, you may drink the Holy Blood from the chalice. Now, I know that it has been the tradition in this Church to dip the host in the wine, but that practice is forbidden by the Vatican."

Oops. We've been doing it all wrong. Many of us were pretty sure of that, but we've kept our mouths shut.

I've checked around on the internet and if everyone handles drinking the wine correctly (wiping and turning the chalice after each use, using a high proof wine that kills germs quickly, using a gold or silver chalice that is inhospitable to germs), the chances of catching something when taking the wine is very small. You have a much greater chance of catching something shaking hands during the sign of peace. However, I still feel squeamish about drinking from the chalice, so I was happy to dip, but no more.

Row by row, people began getting in line to receive Communion. When my kids and I stood up and before the choir began singing again, I was overcome by a strong urge to sneeze. And so, there in front of the majority of congregants of a mostly silent church, I sneezed a loud, satisfying sneeze. And I felt dozens and dozens of sets of eyes alight on me and I could almost read the thoughts going through people's minds, "Oh, God. Please don't let her drink from the chalice. Please don't let her drink from the chalice."

No worries. I don't have any plans to take the wine, whether I'm sick or not.

Last day of German Class

Today was the last day of my German course. It has been a very interesting 5 weeks. The first few days were very difficult for me, as the class already had its cliques set and someone was very mean to me the first day. But, within a week, several other new students and I had found our places.

My fellow students come from all over the world: Russia, Morocco, Cuba, the Philippines, Kazakhstan, Poland, the Dominican Republic, South Korea, Iran, Brazil, Afghanistan, Ethiopia, Kosovo and Turkey, and I'm sure I've forgotten a few others. I was the lone American or native-English speaker.

We have all gotten along quite well, but I did have a few of those uncomfortable moments due to my nationality, which I expected. One day, we needed to write a quick paragraph about what we would show a visitor to our hometown. Hmmm, what to show someone in Atlanta, what in Atlanta was unique... Every city has a zoo, and an aquarium isn't that unique... After hearing some other people's paragraphs, with their centuries-old sites and famous places to see, I read my tongue-in-cheek paragraph about taking people to see those famous Atlanta landmarks: the Coca-Cola Museum, the CNN Center and I threw in Stone Mountain for good measure.

Then, a Cuban women read hers and it started with "I come from Guantanamo..." and I thought, "Oh, no." She talked about what there was to see and the teacher added, "But there is also a large prison there, isn't there? That would not be a very pretty place to go." I quickly found something interesting to stare in my book, but not before I saw about 5 heads swivel around to check out my reaction to that statement.

My Afghan friend was next to read his paragraph. It consisted of 2 sentences. "Ich komme aus Kandahar, Afghanistan. Alle is kaputt in Afghanistan." (Everything is "broken" in Afghanistan.) I again dropped my head as I saw several pairs of eyes look to me.

In spite of the potential for conflict, I have never been made to feel intentionally uncomfortable and no one has ever challenged me on U.S. policy. No one has ever snubbed me either. Everyone follows the unwritten rule that we are here to learn German, not play the blame game and there is no need to use this time to have disagreements about the horrible things going on in the world.

In fact, one of my classmates out of the blue told me during one of our break times that she loves, just loves America. I thought, "Why? Brad Pitt movies? Levi jeans? Fast food?" Here was her explanation: "I come from Kosovo and America saved my country. My uncle was killed during the war and everyday I had to hide in the basement during bombings. I love America." (For the record, there were more countries involved than the U.S., but I'll take the positives whenever I can).

There have been a lot of laughs during class and we even had a day when we pushed the tables back and one of the guys in class who works as a Latin dance instructor taught us the basics of the Cha-cha-cha.

On this our last day, we had class, took the final test and then had our "bring a dish from your homeland" feast. David and I had joked that I could always go through the McDonald's drive-through window for a bunch of Big Macs and Cokes, except the closest McDonald's doesn't have a drive-thru.

What to bring? I figured chili was pretty American and I could whip up yummy pumpkin whoopie pies with pumpkin puree I had bought at the commissary and froze. So, there it was. My classmates dug into my chili, kept piping hot in the crockpot, that holy grail from last fall. My whoopie pies were less of a success. "Gut, aber sehr süß!" "Good, but very sweet!" By European standards, they were much too sweet. Baked goods here are barely sweet at all.

The food was fantastic, even the dried fish pieces I tried from China were tasty, and we all went home with full stomachs.

St. Martin's Day

November 11th is St. Martin's Day and all I really knew about it was that in the evening children walk through neighborhoods singing songs and carrying lanterns. I didn't have time to do any research and in order for you to truly appreciate how this day went for me, I will only provide you with the information that I had at the time.

Rebecca's Kindergarten was to be having their St. Martin's Day procession at 5:00pm and when I picked her up from school at 2:00pm, she had a lantern she had made at school and we were to bring that back at 5:00. The lantern was a painted paper cylinder with a wire handle. In addition, the previous week, a mom had talked me into helping out after the procession selling glühwein (hot spiced wine), but when I reminded her that I don't speak good German, she said, "Oh, you just say 'Ein Euro, bitte.' How hard is that?" Hmm, how hard indeed. I doubted that the only thing I would need to say would be "One Euro, please."

My neighbor Anne and her daughter Jonna came to pick us up a little before 5:00 and when I opened the door, there was Jonna with her lantern all beautifully lit with a little light contraption that looked like a fishing pole. Uh,oh. Apparently, I needed a light, but no one had told me that and it just hadn't occurred to me. I asked Anne where she got the light and she answered, "You can get them at any toy store. Don't you have one?" When I said no, she followed up with, "Oh. Well, what do you normally use to light your children's lanterns?" I explained that we don't really do lanterns in the U.S. Anne was very surprised by that, shocked that we don't celebrate St. Martin's Day and told me that children carry lanterns at other time of year in Germany or even when just going for a walk in the evening during the winter. Lucky for us she had an extra light Becca could use.

At the school the kids were excited to show off their lanterns which were in all shapes and sizes: dragons, suns, stars, etc., or just plain ones like Becca's. The sun set and we sang a song about St. Martin and lanterns. Then, we began walking through the neighborhood.

Becca and Jonna hand in hand.

We stopped at a path and lo and behold, there was a fellow with a long red cape on horseback. We stopped and sang another song. Ah ha. That must be St. Martin. But what's the deal with the cape? Must research. So, we walked along with St. Martin at the head of the procession on his rather skittish horse. We paused in a field, sang another song and then headed back to school.

Here's Becca with her class assistant. So, back at the school, a small bonfire was lit (who knew?), there was more singing and, oh, yeah, I was supposed to sell glühwein. Gulp. I approached the table and quickly realized that I wasn't going to be able to be of any help. There were plenty of women already there, ladling piping hot glühwein from a huge pot into cups. I couldn't have Becca around that hot pot and I couldn't let her wander around alone in the dark either. So, I stood there a moment, not sure of what to do. "I should walk over there and tell the women that I was supposed to help, but that I really can't, " I said to myself. But, I didn't think I could express that clearly enough in German and just didn't feel like embarrassing myself in front of a bunch of people. So, I never said a word and prayed that that mom, who said she really needed the help, wouldn't confront me the next day at school.

I just sort of stood there for a few minutes in the cold, not really knowing what to do when I noticed people eating something, something that looked like bread or a pastry that they were getting from a table. I walked over to the table and a mom working there said, "Your child is an Igel, right?" "Yes, an Igel (a hedgehog). Her name is Rebecca Nylund," I answered. She looked through the bags in the Igel box and said, "Hmm, I don't see her name." She looked again and then said, "Did you order a some German word I didn't know? Order something? I was supposed to have ordered something? Nobody told me that. There was probably a sign up to order that whatever it was, but I didn't notice one and probably would not have understood it anyway.

Once again, we were in luck. They had a few extra whatever they were for sale and we bought one. I sat Rebecca down, reached into the paper back and pulled out, of all things, a piece of bread in the shape of a goose.

It must have been the whole feeling of having no idea what was going on the whole evening that made me want to burst out laughing. Of course, a goose bread! Why shouldn't there be a goose bread in the bag? I knew so little about St. Martin's Day, it could have been in the shape of a can of Spam and I wouldn't have known the difference. I definitely needed to do some research.

Rebecca biting the head off the goose. I hope we weren't breaking some unwritten rule about the proper way to eat a goose-shaped bread on St. Martin's Day.

Becca is not sure what she thinks of its raisin eye.

OK. So, the internet to the resue! St. Martin's Day is the feast day of 4th century Martin of Tours, who started out as a Roman soldier. He was baptized as an adult and became a monk. It is understood that he was a kind man who led a quiet and simple life. The most famous legend of his life is that he once cut his cloak in half to share with a beggar during a snowstorm, to save the beggar from dying of the cold. That night he dreamed that Jesus was wearing the half-cloak Martin had given away. Martin heard Jesus say to the angels: "Here is Martin, the Roman soldier who is not baptized; he has clothed me."

The day is celebrated in the evening of November 11 in many parts of Europe. Here is Germany, children go to houses with paper lanterns and candles, and sing songs about St. Martin in return for treats (we didn't go to individual houses) Often, a man dressed as St. Martin rides on a horse in front of the procession.

To this day, the origin of the much-loved procession of lanterns is still unclear. To some, however, it is a substitute for the St. Martin bonfire, which is still lit in a few cities and villages throughout Europe. It formerly symbolized the light that holiness brings to the darkness, just as St. Martin brought a flicker of hope to the lives of the poor through his good deeds.

In some areas, there is a traditional goose meal. According to legend, Martin was very modest and reluctant to become bishop as the Church wanted, which is why he hid in a stable filled with geese. The noise made by the geese betrayed his location to the people who were looking for him. I guess that explains the goose bread.

Alles klar.

Poland Shopping Trip Day 2

Our first stop early the next morning was to the Borowski crystal factory. Erika showed us a brochure of the artist's work beforehand and I don't think anyone was impressed with the futuristic, abstract, alien-looking glass sculptures. Everyone was happily surprised when we entered the factory store to find plenty of glass Christmas balls, vases and whimsical animal crystal sculptures.

I fell in love with these frogs, as they reminded me (as all frog figurines do) of my dear frog Eddie, whom we discovered hanging onto the side of our camper after a 7-hour long ride home from the beach in South Carolina. Eddie lived happily in an aquarium with us for over a year and frogs now hold a special place in our hearts. I adored Eddie, but couldn't bring myself to spend that much on a crystal frog.

After a few more stops at pottery shops, it was time to head back into Germany, specifically to Seiffen, the east German town famous for its wooden Christmas decorations and toys. Along the way, Erika told us, "Look out of the left side of the bus. Do you see those mountains off in the distance? That's Czechoslovakia."

Seiffen sits in the heart of the Ore Mountains, which are famous for many Christmas traditions. As the silver and tin deposits declined in the 1600s, former miners had to look for new ways to feed their families. In addition to lace making and weaving, the inhabitants went into wood carving.

Nutcrackers...,

..."smoking men" incense burners...,

..."pyramids" (carousels with figures of the Christmas story or from mining)...,

... and Schwibbogen (wooden arcs with candles in the windows, symbolizing the opening of a mine) are some of many Christmas goods made in the Ore Mountains.

You could feel the atmosphere heat up in the bus. This was the stop that people were anticipating the most. We were running behind schedule, though, and by the time we pulled into town, many shop owners were locking their doors for the night.

To the other people in town, I'm sure the frantic nature of this shopping stop was comical. Crazy American women walking swiftly and purposefully from store to store, grabbing items off shelves and buying them with just minutes to spare. Many of us were left frustrated, including me. I had not managed to find an open toy store. On the long ride home, some women were already planning another trip on their own to Seiffen.

Poland Shopping Trip Day 1

While David was taking the kids to international day at school, I was busy elbowing other women out of my way so I could pick a certain plate off the shelf of a pottery store in Poland. Just kidding. But I was in Poland and I was buying pottery.

The American Women's Club of the Taunus is a group of expat women who do a great variety of activities: bookclubs, coffee socials, local tours, museum outings and trips all over the world. I had heard about this shopping trip to Poland before as a "must" while living here, so my friend Kathy and I decided to sign up.

We boarded our bus at 5:00am and drove to eastern Germany. Our tour organizer, Erika, gave us some interesting information along the way. We were traveling on a highway that during the days of a divided Germany, was one of the few transit routes free Germans could use to travel from West Berlin (which was fully surrounded by Soviet Union-controlled East Germany) to West Germany. There were high security fences all along the hundreds of kilometers of highway and guards posted every so often to be sure that no East Germans could escape. And heaven help you if your car broke down.

A wind farm in eastern Germany.

Erika also told us the history of Polish pottery, as buying pottery was the main purpose of the trip. Augustus II was a king of Poland who lived from 1670 to 1733. He was called "the Strong" for his bear-like physical strength and for his numerous offspring (he is rumored to have fathered as many as 385 children -- only 1 of them legitimate). In 1701 he imprisoned the young alchemist Johann Friedrich Böttger, and forced him to reveal the secret of manufacturing gold, as Böttger had boasted he could. Instead, Böttger discovered during his imprisonment the secret of porcelain: the high quality of the local clay and baking it at higher temperatures than ever before. Augustus the Strong proudly offered the pottery as gifts to impress other nobles and monarchs, and the area became famous for its porcelain stoneware. Ceramics and pottery continue to be a definitive part of the identity of the city of Boleslaweic, Poland, our destination.

As we entered Poland, and any other time we crossed the border or saw border security personnel elsewhere, Erika would say, "Say a prayer that we don't get stopped. On the last trip, they took everyone's passports, entered all the numbers into the computer to check everything and we sat here for 2 hours." The bus would fall silent for a minute every time she reminded us of that. Thankfully, we were never stopped and sailed through the borders.

And just like that, well, about 5 hours after we left Frankfurt, we were in Poland and stopped at our first set of pottery shops/factory outlets. Erika had instructed us on what to look for in pottery and if we saw something we really liked, to buy it. We couldn't be sure we would see a certain pattern again.

It was a strange experience seeing all these American women exit the bus, enter the 3 or 4 pottery shops on that block, and start buying. And they just kept on buying. Now, many of them had been on the trip before and they knew exactly what they wanted. I walked into the shops and looked around, but really didn't know what to do. We didn't need any dishes. My baking dishes would do, even if they were regular Pyrex dishes. The pottery was beautiful and inexpensive, but I really didn't need anything.

Finally in the third store, I got hit with the bug. The store had triangular pizza plates. We had had cheap plastic pizza plates back home and the kids still say every so often, "Do you remember those pizza plates we used to have? I miss them!" So I bought six heavy pizza plates. Then I remembered that David has been saying that we need egg cups, so I bought 6 sweet little egg cups. And a matching bowl to put the shells into.

I also ended up buying 6 large mugs with matching oval plates, all in different patterns, for soup and sandwiches (one of our favorite lunches). So I caught up pretty well with my fellow shoppers. We probably hit 15 pottery shops in all, and we would see the traditional patterns over and over, but then there would always be something new at each shop.

Our group spent the night at Kliczków Castle and Kathy and I had an authentic castle experience. Our room had no heat. Did I mention it was cold and rainy? I once again thanked God for warm featherbeds.

This castle was built in the late 13th century and was thoroughly restored in 2001.

International Day at ISF

Today, the kids' school, ISF, hosted more than 1,000 people for an afternoon of fun and learning with its International Day. This annual event is designed primarily to help students (and parents!) learn about different cultures, and this year's focus countries were Brazil, Germany, Korea, Malaysia, Mexico, and Russia.

James volunteered to help with the Opening Ceremonies and was proud to parade the flag of the U.S. across the stage.

There were dance, musical and athletic performances from each country, including these from Mexico, Russia and Korea.


Face paint is a hit all over the world.

In the Brazilian jungle. The day included Passports for students to fill out as they visited ‘country’ classrooms decorated as each focus nation. Kids could sample traditional foods, play games, have their name written in a foreign language and learn a lot of other new things about some of the countries their classmates hail from.

Election Day Results

Living abroad during an American election year has been an interesting experience. David and I felt a bit out of touch throughout much of the campaigning, even though we could read articles on line and see reports on CNN International. What we were missing was "water-cooler chats," those conversations and debates you have with co-workers and friends about the issues, and the "little" but interesting stories that crop up during campaigns.

We have been asked by friends and neighbors what we thought of Barack Obama and Hilary Clinton. People here are very excited about Obama and don't seem to know anything about McCain. Just knowing he's a Republican and therefore associated with Bush was enough to make people dismiss him.

When people asked me who I was supporting, I answered truthfully: There are things about Obama I like and things about McCain I like and I'm not sure whose name I will check off on my ballot. People seemed very surprised to learn that I am not affiliated with any party and even more surprised to learn that there are over one hundred political parties in the U.S.

We voted a couples of weeks prior to the election via absentee ballot and this morning woke up to the unsurprising news that Obama had won. We sat the kids in front of the TV at 7:00 this morning so that they could see on CNN the historic news that America had elected its first African-American president. The kids were interested and understood that this was the first time an African-American had been elected, but it didn't seem to affect them that strongly.

As I thought about this during the day, I realized that for them, why couldn't a non-white person, or a woman for that matter, be elected president? To our kids, it wasn't something that extraordinary. They have always attended school with kids of color and different religions, have had teachers at school who were non-white, a few of our pediatricians back home and several of their nurses and dental hygenists have been non-white women. I guess it's a good sign that having a person of color elected president didn't strike them as amazing.

At German class, my teacher put me on the spot first thing and asked how I felt about the election results. Again I answered truthfully: What happened in the U.S. yesterday would not have been possible 50 or even 25 years ago. I was proud of my country, proud of the huge step we had taken.

My teacher said that she thought the election of Obama was the right thing for the U.S.'s relationships with the rest of the world. This seems to be the opinion of people all over the world.

When my classmates asked during break whom I voted for, I answered truthfully: In the U.S., you vote in secret and my vote will remain a secret.