Shopping at the Commissary

I was lucky to have the wife of a consulate member invite me to go shopping this morning at the commissary at Wiesbaden, which is about 20 minutes away. I have heard that you feel like you're in a regular American supermarket when you're there. My plan was to only buy things that I cannot find at the German grocery stores. That was the plan.

I expected, when I first walked in, to feel like Madame Blueberry when she first walks into the StuffMart -- all woozy and overwhelmed (apologies to those not familiar with Veggie Tales). But instead, I got straight down to business. I had shopping to do!

I methodically walked the aisles, filling my cart with those things I haven't been able to find elsewhere, or have been unwilling to pay so much for: Campbell soups for casseroles, Poptarts, Froot Loops, Starbucks coffee beans, peanut butter crackers, microwave popcorn, large bags of shredded cheddar cheese, etc. Everything was there at my finger tips!

They also had displays for Thanksgiving and I realized, "Hey, I can get everything I need for a Thanksgiving meal while I'm here!" And so I did, from a Butterball frozen turkey breast to Ocean Spray cranberry sauce.

After my first round, I did a second one, now aiming at just filling the cart up with other things we would like (I had noticed how inexpensive most of the food was and, afterall, it would be downright foolish of me not to use every inch of the cart, wouldn't it?).

The only two things I couldn't find were Nathan's hotdogs and Marie's caesar salad dressing. Not too shabby, otherwise. It was wonderful being able to stock up on snacks for the kids' lunches. German stores don't have a good selection of cookies and crackers.

And, bonus! They packed our groceries in white plastic grocery bags! Hooray! Now I have a good supply of little trashcan liners.

So, for dinner, it was Celebrate America! We had Tyson chicken strips with Sweet Baby Ray barbeque sauce, Lipton rice and sauce (broccoli and cheese flavor), salad with Newman's Own salad dressing, Country Time lemonade, and for dessert, some warm Duncan Hines brownies. The kids were in heaven. David and I were halfway there ourselves.

My mouth is watering just thinking of that Starbucks coffee in the morning.

Harry Potter und die Heiligtuemer des Todes

There have been posters all over the mall for the last month or so for Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. The German-language version was only released today (as opposed to the July release in the U.S. for the English-language version). However, Germany is scheduled to get the DVD of The Order of the Phoenix a month earlier than the U.S., so it all evens out in the end.

Below is cover art for all the German-language books. It's always interesting to compare the covers from other countries, but Mary GrandPré's artwork for the U.S. versions is the best, in my humble opinion.

Trick or Treat

We didn't know what we were going to do about Halloween. There are decorations and bags of candy at the stores, but trick or treating is only done in certain areas here. We weren't sure where Liederbach stood in all this. The American Women's Club has an event where you're given a list of participating houses in towns in your area and you drive Halloween night to the different homes to trick or treat. So, driving in unfamiliar areas at night, finding parking spots, getting the kids repeatedly in and out of the car. Three of the things I dislike most in the world. Maybe next year.

The parents of one of Micaela's friends invited us today to go trick or treating at the Siedlung, the American compound attached to the U.S. consulate in Frankfurt. This is an area of former army officer's quarters that houses consulate workers and their families. I have heard it referred to as "College with Kids." Today I understood why. These people know how to have a great time.

Bex wore the Lala teletubby costume I made years ago for Micaela.

James in last year's costume.

We arrived and right away saw kids in costumes and tables set up in front of the buildings with baskets of treats. We met up with our friends and spent a few hours walking from building to building, marveling at the lavish decorations, enjoying a beverage with friendly strangers and having a great time. These people can all shop at the commissaries on the army bases, so most of the candy handed out was American!


Frankenstein had his own spooky house we visited.

It was a great Halloween and from the looks of it, the adults enjoyed themselves just as much as the kids. For just a little while, we were back in America.

Would you like ketchup with that?

With David and the older kids visiting friends back home in the U.S., I decided that the girls needed a shopping trip at the mall. We stopped by the toy store which has an interesting set up. You go through the doors, but then need to go up an escalator or elevator to get to the actual store area. It is interesting because the escalator drops you off in the middle of the store. So, keep a good eye on your little ones because one minute they're walking around, looking at a toy and the next, they're falling down the escalator. In fact, you can easily do this yourself if you're distracted. It's one of those instances where you find yourself saying, "This would never be allowed in an American toy store! The lawsuits!" I lost track of Rebecca for a few seconds this morning and my heart was pounding in my chest until I found her.


There are lots of familiar toys at the store. Barbie, Legos, Playmobil (which is actually German), Dora, Littlest Pet Shop, just to name a few. I only saw one little box of Fisher-Price Little People toys, which you see all over stores in America.

For lunch, we ate at a fast food place called Chicken&Chips. That was probably the closest we were going to get to Chick-fil-A....ah.... ....Chick-fil-A......but I digress.

I placed my order for the regular chicken and chips (french fries) meal and then got distracted by Rebecca. The fellow (who spoke perfect English, of course) asked if we would like ketchup with it and without looking up, I answered, "Yes, please." Imagine my surprise when he handed me our order in a paper cone, fries on the bottom, chicken bites on top -- absolutely saturated in ketchup. Not the fries mind you, rather the chicken. Hmmm, I sort of lost my appetite. I couldn't even really wipe the ketchup off, it was soaked into the chicken. So I ate the fries, dipping them in the chicken. As I did so, I pondered the situation. Did he do that because we are American and everyone assumes Americans put loads of ketchup on everything? Or would he have done the same thing to a German customer?

Our friends, the Aubers, spent three years in Germany years ago and told us a story about how they were invited to dinner at a German friend's house. The wife made a delicious roast beef and plunked a big bottle of ketchup on the table at the beginning of the meal. After they finished, Jim and Valerie couldn't resist but ask, "That was delicious, but what was the ketchup for?" Their hosts replied, "We thought American put ketchup on everything!" Jim replied, "Well, not everything."

To dip or not to dip

We went to church today and once again, I watched as all the other congregants approached the priest to receive Communion and then turned to the Eucharistic minister and dipped the host in the wine. Finally, it was my turn. Once again, as I have done in all previous Sundays, I chickened out and simply took the host and headed back to my seat. Micaela and James did the same. I just have it so ingrained that to drip any of the wine would be a terrible thing.

At the end of Mass, Father made a few announcements from the pulpit and then said the following:

"Now, there is something that I feel the need to discuss and I know is the source of some controversy. Many of you have just moved to Germany this summer and may be surprised to know that in this parish, it is our tradition to practice intinction, which is dipping the host in the wine. We began doing it here because children sometimes have trouble handing the chalice. Some people have said in discussions in this church that intinction should not be allowed.

In the United States, it is believed to be forbidden, though that is not technically true. It is certainly not encouraged. And, well, you're not in the United States! You're in Germany! So, you need to begin doing intinction. (At this point, I am sinking lower and lower in my seat. I have nothing against intinction. I just haven't had the courage to do it yet). If you are more comfortable drinking from the chalice, you may do so. But otherwise, we all need to be a united congregation and intinction is what we do here."

It's all so interesting. I don't remember having wine distributed in church as a youngster and it wasn't until the 1990s in Atlanta that I saw it being distributed at Mass every Sunday. I was never very comfortable drinking out of the chalice (OK, I never took the wine) and having a priest remark last year that not taking the wine was a form of disobedience to God(!) didn't help with my feelings.

Father's little speech makes me feel that I now have the permission and certainly the incentive to dip and, next Sunday, I'm gonna do it!

My kingdom for a crockpot

I really miss cooking with a crockpot and have so far been unable to find one at any of our local stores. They will have a whole row of deep fryers, a whole row of coffee makers, a different row of espresso machines, but alas, no crockpots. With my birthday coming up in a few days, we decided to expand the hunt for a crockpot to the Zeil, the main shopping district in Frankfurt. It is a pedestrian-only shopping area where you can usually find anything you're looking for. Usually.

We first walked up and down the street, just taking in the sights, then went to Saturn, the store that people had told us was bound to have one. They didn't. The sales people weren't very clear on exactly what we were looking for. That is not a good sign. We went to a few department stores, but they didn't have one either. We still enjoyed looking in the different store windows, but the most memorable part of the day was watching a group of young men break out into spontaneous silly dancing at the sound of vaudeville-type of music being played over speakers. They were kicking up their heels, doing Charleston steps and twirling around as they walked down the street. I could see James' eyes sparkling as he watched them. Sure enough, he tried out a few of their moves before we left.

We just happened to be there near dinner time and let James and Emilie get crêpes, Micaela opted for a Big Mac and David and I got Turkish sandwiches that were similar to Greek gyros. Very yummy. The day was not a total loss.

Church and a Fall Festival

We went to church for the first time this morning. We drove as we were not sure exactly where it was, but we should be able to walk it on walking paths in about 12 minutes. St. Marien/St. Mary's was very small, stark and contemporary. There were maybe 100 or so people there for the English Mass and some were familiar from school and the American Women's Club. A folk group provided the music and most of the songs we recognized. The regular priest is American, but today we had an Asian fellow who spoke very good English.

Two big surprises -- everyone did self-intinction (dipping the host into the wine yourself), which I thought was a big no-no (you don't want wine dripping on anything). I panicked at the last moment and didn't dip. And, the kneelers were bare pieces of wood. As I kneeled there with my knees in pain, I figured I was doing penance for having missed so many weeks of church.

The only English masses in the Frankfurt area are held at a larger church in the city, and then also at our little church. We are very lucky to be so close.

Our little town was having their fall festival this past weekend, so we went this afternoon. It cracks me up to see the difference between how Germans and Americans handle things. There were 3 rides: bumper cars, kiddie cars and those swings that go around and out.

There was no line for the bumper cars (or dodgems as I called them growing up in Massachusetts). People stood all along the edge (there was no "safety" border) and when the ride stopped, it was a mad rush of people to claim a car. Then as the kids rode around, they would swipe at their friends hanging out along the edge or try to hit each other with swords they had won at a game booth. There was nothing to keep little kids from running out onto the floor, and sure enough, I saw one toddler get several paces out until her dad ran out and got her.

In a way, it's kind of refreshing to see things handled in a less than orderly fashion; in another way I find myself holding my breath, waiting for something bad to happen.

Rebecca rode on the kiddie cars. First she rode on the firetruck, but she really wanted to ride on the train and the horse. When I picked her up off the firetruck, she started pointing and yelling with urgency, "Choo-choo!" and then made that sound of horse hooves - you know, clicking you tongue, because she cannot, of course, say horse. Rebecca kept pointing at the train and horse, yelling over and over, "Choo-choo! Click, click, click! Choo-choo! Click, click, click!" I told David later that she sounded like she belonged to one of those African tribes that uses clicks in their language. Some amused glances were cast her way.