Wednesday, September 18, 2013

Germany: Wine Festivals..now is the time

If you are visiting any of the wine regions in Germany during the month of September, be sure to visit a wine festival or two, or even three. These ‘fests’ generally feature the top wines or sekts (sparkling wines) from the region. On two consecutive weekends, 30 to 40 local vinters set-up small stands in their towns, villages and even smaller cities so that visitors can sample their wine. Wine aficionados (read: real drinkers) bring their own glasses – tied by the stem to a leather thong which is worn around the neck. (My question: Are they just well-prepared [‘have glass will drink’] OR do they just want to avoid paying the 5€ pfand [return glass deposit]???)

Wine fests are not only a fun way to sample the various wines of the region, but also to see how ‘the other half lives’ (that is, people our age - middle-age, baby-boomers, mature adults). Trust me, they live pretty well. In Germany, people our age have full social calendars and wine fests are just one of a wide variety of autumn activities.  If you want to get to know the locals, this is a great place to strike up a conversation.  

As you drive through the wine areas, you will see numerous stands and even restaurants offering ‘Neuer Wein’ (new wine - Federweisser). This wine - which is made from ‘must’ (freshly fermented pressed grape juice) - is yellowish in color and is quite tasty, especially when served with Zweibelkuchen (onion cake). However, I must offer a few words of caution: 1. Keep the bottles upright because the screw caps never fit securely and the wine (which attracts zillion of tiny flies) leaks out. 2. Never drink more than 1 bottle per night.  As the Germans say, new wine will ‘clean your clock’ (laxative-wise)!!

Sunday, September 8, 2013

The insanity of war: Oradour-sur-Glane (France)… a must see for humane beings

It is seldom that we – who were born and raised in America and have no connection to the military – see the aftermath of the atrocities of war. Yes, many of us have viewed the remnants of the World Trade Center in the months that followed 9/11. But future generations, and those of us who have been unable to visit New York City so far, will only see the memorial as it rises.
Even those of us who have traveled to Europe, often see only the sanitized version of ‘things’, long after they happened, long after the tears have dried and those who fell have perhaps been forgotten.


Yesterday, the New York Times reported that the Presidents of Germany and France commemorated the worst atrocity committed by the Germans – on the French people – in World War II. On June 10, 1944, Nazi panzer troops entered the tiny village of Oradour-sur-Glane, rounded-up  and massacred 642 of it’s villagers…. men, women, children… anyone who happened to be in the village that day. Only a dozen or so – only those who were not in town that day – survived.
For those of us humane beings - who need to be reminded of the horrors of war – thankfully that little village has been preserved… exactly as it was on the day of the atrocity.

Visiting the village is an eerie experience. You park on one side of the road, then cross it and enter the reception center through an underground passageway which cannot be seen from the road or from the village itself.  As you emerge from underground, you enter the village… walking up a bit of an incline… as any visitor would have. 

As you enter the village, you walk past the remnants of the burned-out shells of houses and shops. Many of the shop signs are still clearly visible. There are tables and a couple of chairs in the café. You can see a sewing machine in the tailor’s shop. There are cars parked in the streets. But everything is a hollow shell … burned out and now rusted. The trolley tracks are still there with blades of grass growing in between.  It is all so quiet, so still. Even though other tourists are walking nearby, everyone - even teenagers - speaks in hushed, reverent tones. 

After a period of time, as you walk along the streets peering here and peeking there, you become somewhat inured to the scene. ‘Oh just an old abandoned village’, you think to yourself.

Then you walk down a small incline,  towards the end of the village,  to the church. It is a simple stone edifice, not unlike other fieldstone churches in other small French villages. As you enter the church, you notice that it is empty: no pews, no religious artifacts, no remnants of the parishioners. There is nothing inside except - an alter with three sacristy windows directly behind.

But in this emptiness… in this sunlit space… it all becomes clear.  This is the place where 247 women and 205 children were massacred…. herded into the church, locked inside. Then the church was set ablaze and anyone machine-gunned down - if they tried to escape.  One woman survived. She succeeded in climbing out of a sacristy window.

But why, why did this happen… you may well ask? What could possibly be the reason for such slaughter…. such brutality, such inhumanity.

The official answer: German retribution on the French partisans because they had kidnapped a Waffen-SS command officer. The unofficial truth: The partisans of the village of Oradour-sur-Vayres had kidnapped the officer.  The order from the German high command had been to arrest 30 villagers from that village and hold them until the SS-officer was released unharmed.  But, instead, an overzealous, young German officer decided to ‘send a message’ to the partisans of Oradour-sur-Vayres. He ordered his troops to lay waste to the partisans’ village: exterminate all of the villagers and set fire to the village. But on that fateful morning, in his quest for revenge, in his haste, he entered the wrong village: Oradour -sur-Glane NOT Oradour-sur-Vayres. 
One cannot say enough about the absolute insanity and the inhumanity of war.

Photos of the village appear on my Pinterest Board. I visted the village in 2010.

http://pinterest.com/roamingeurope/france-oradour-sur-glane-limosin-region/

 

 






Thursday, September 5, 2013

Roaming thru Europe, off the beaten path… by car.

On your next vacation trip to Europe, why not get off the beaten path? Rent a car and explore!!

If you need help in planning your adventure, let me know.  Having lived in Europe for more than 22 years, I know a lot about Germany, France, Italy, Switzerland and the BeNeLux (Belgium, Netherlands and Luxembourg). I can give you advice on which routes to take, towns and villages to visit, nice places to stay, great places to eat, interesting things to see, as well as fun and cultural things to do. I can provide first-hand information on just about anything an American baby-boomer or woman traveler would want or need to know. (I am one, you know!!)

When I travel by car, I do so slowly. I take my time. I stop here. I explore there. If I see something - even a sign - that looks a bit interesting… I go there. I read the guide books. I stop at the tourist offices. But, most times, I just wander… I just roam… here and there. As a result, I have seen many ‘off the beaten path’ places that most Americans (and sometimes Europeans!!) have never seen.  (Ok, ok… truth be told… sometimes I had not really planned to see some of those places [read: lost, ever so lost]. But none-the-less, I have been there!!)
Getting off the beaten path is easy these days. All you need is a GPS-system in your car, a mobile and a WiFi-equipped tablet.  Years ago, without these devices, it was a bit more problematic. However, I quickly learned that back-country roads generally lead to post roads (postal service) and those roads lead to the national highway system. So all’s good, as they say!! Soft adventure, slow travel - at its best!!!

But now back to the point of this blog.
If you are planning a self-drive European vacation and have some questions or need some information… send me an email (Vicki@roaming-thru-europe.com). If it is something which I can answer off the top of my head (and it, usually, is) … I won’t charge you. But if I have to do some research, we can agree on a small nominal fee.  Sound fair???

Monday, September 2, 2013

Ghent: a chocolate lover's paradise... Belgian Chocolate, that is!!

My family just returned from vacationing in New Hampshire. They brought home a small box of chocolates… which started me thinking…. well, actually,  started my mouth watering… and my mind wandering …. 

Several years ago, I was on a business trip to Belgium.  My meeting was in Ghent which is about a 6 hour drive from my home in Germany. (Ghent: You know the place where they signed ‘that’ famous treaty. Ok, ok, so you don’t remember… neither did I. I had to look it up.  Just like you, dear reader, I remembered the name of the treaty [from 8th grade World History!!!] but had ‘no clue’ what it was for, or about, and certainly not when the darn thing was signed!! Turns out, it was to end the War of 1812!!)  
Memory (i.e. historical and cultural references) firmly intact, I got into my car and drove to my meeting. Afterwards, that night, I prowled the streets of Ghent for a bit before turning in. Typical European town, I surmised: old town, narrow cobble-stoned streets, old houses, big church, nice bridge, torture museum, etc.  (As I was later to discover, that was quite an understatement. Ghent is far from a typical town … but more on that in my next post.)
The next day, I got up and started to wander the streets… visiting the church, walking around the market place, walking across the bridge. As I entered a back street, I was LITERALLY confronted with store after store - with windows filled with chocolates: hand-made Pralines and every other chocolate delight!!  
For those of you.. like me… who know the name ‘Praline’ but could not recognize one if our lives depended on it: a Praline is simply a piece of covered chocolate with a filling inside.  We (meaning us in the USA) call them ‘chocolates’. You remember... the kind that people used to give your mother as a gift. (The chocolates you had to take a bite out of, or poke a hole in, to find the filling you liked.  Unless, of course, it was a Whitman’s Sampler  - which had a ‘map’ in the top of the box!!)
The back street was filled with confectioners … not big, fancy, high-priced gourmet stores… just small shops run by ordinary people selling their own hand-produced chocolates (i.e. Belgian people making and selling chocolates in Belgium, hence the name ‘Belgian Chocolate’!! Who knew???)
The people in the stores were so friendly, ’Here try this, try a bit of that’… as they explained the various fillings and ingredients hidden deep within the rich chocolate coatings.  I tried one, then - I tried another… I tried them all. But having NYC shopper genes in my genome, I moved on. I needed to continue my search…. perhaps I would find a better one, a better buy… a better something or other. I knew not what.  
Finally, I had to stop. I could sample no more!! So, instead, I bought. I bought a lot… and then I bought some more.  I excused my apparent gluttony by explaining, to the salesperson, that I planned to give most of my purchases to my family in the States. In reply, she suggested that I buy more and ship them as gifts, instead of taking them back on the plane with me. My wary, NYC shopper genes kicked into action. ‘She just wants me to spend more money’, I thought. ‘No, no’, I responded, ‘Everything will fit perfectly well in my suitcase’. Then – explaining  that I actually lived in Germany and was planning to visit the States in 3 weeks or so – I inquired if the chocolates would still be fresh. ‘Of course’, she replied.  Then in very perfect English, she said ‘but you really ought to ship them’.  Later, I was to discover the emphasis was on OUGHT!! (Europeans have a way of using the polite word ’ought’ to indicate a ‘must do’.)
I left the store, my arms laden with my purchases; and, then loaded them into the front seat of my car. As I made my way home…, during the 6 hours…  I sampled, I nibbled, I snacked, and then I gobbled a little from this bag, a little from that box: secure in the knowledge that I had purchased more than enough.
By the time I got home, I had eaten a bit (ok, ok... to be truthful… apparently quite more than ‘a bit’) of the chocolates.  In the weeks leading up to my trip to the States, I ate most of the rest. But, I did manage to save one nicely-wrapped box for the folks back home. (In truth… if the wrapping had not been so nicely done and - IF - I could have replicated the wrapping…  I would have ‘sampled’ from box, as well.)
I guess the saleswoman was right: I really ‘ought’ to have shipped my Belgian Chocolates home!!

Wine, wine.. everywhere in Germany and France!!

I am in the States at the moment, trying to get my Roaming Thru Europe travel program off the ground. The program is designed for baby-boomers  (couples, mainly) and women (of all ages) who wish to make a self-drive vacation in Europe. Stay tuned for more details…

At any rate, since I was working so hard, I decided to go to the liquor store and buy a bottle of wine to ease the pain.  Boy, was I shocked!! The prices of wine are so-o-o high here: $16.99 for a fairly decent bottle.
So, now dear wine-drinking friends who are planning to travel to Germany and France: I have some very, very, important  information  for you. When you want to buy a bottle of wine, head to a supermarket, not to a wine shop. The prices are downright cheap!!  You can get a good bottle of wine  – from anywhere in the world – for under 6€. (I only go to a wine shop to purchase wine when I need a gift. Their free wrapping service makes any bottle look much more expensive than it is!)
In German supermarkets, you will find aisles and aisles of wines from all over the world – including Germany. In French supermarkets, you will find aisles and aisles of French wine and a half aisle of wine from somewhere else!!  I am not a wine connoisseur (merely an imbiber), but I like Pinotage from the Western Cape of South Africa (red wine), and I love Prosecco (sparking white wine) from Italy!!

 
In the summer, there is nothing better than a glass of chilled Prosecco served with chilled gummy bears!! Try it!!

Monday, July 1, 2013

Germany: street names - Grosse Bleiche (bleaching lawn)

I just finished reading a blog post by ‘The guy’ at www.flightsandfrustration.com. He wrote a nice review of a quaint 1920s hotel in Hamburg.  According to the post, the hotel is located on a street called ‘Grosse Bleichen’.

That started me thinking… As I roam through Europe, especially Germany, I often wonder how the streets got their names. It is quite obvious many of the streets are named for German industrialists (Bosch, Siemens, Daimler) while others are named for famous people (Schweitzer, Goethe, Gutenberg).

Other names are clearly meant to provide travelers with directional information. Apparently any street which is named for a town or city leads directly to that place. For instance, the ’Mainzer Landstrasse’ leads from the countryside into the city of Mainz (‘land’ means countryside). Similarly, ‘Hauptstrasse’ means main street, ‘Bahnhofstrasse’ means trainstation street, and so it goes.

However, there is also a classification of street names which are even more descriptive; and, I find, quite intriguing. ‘Grosse Bleichen’ is one of those names.  In the ‘oldest’ part of almost any old town or city in Germany, you will find a group of streets which bear some form of the word ‘bleiche’.

In Mainz, for instance, there is an entire old district named the Bleichenviertel. The streets in this quarter are named: Große Bleiche, Mittlere Bleiche und Hintere Bleiche (that is: the big bleiche, the middle bleiche, and behind the bleiche).

The word ‘bleiche‘ means ‘bleach’. In Mainz from the Middle Ages to the 17th century, the Bleichenverteil – a relatively flat area which was located near two streams of water - was the area where the women of the town and the laundresses from the military hospital took their newly washed, wet laundry and laid it on the lawns (meadows) to dry ... and to be bleached by the sun!! As a result that area was called the ‘bleaching lawns’.

While I do not remember such descriptive street names in the upstate New York area where I grew up in the USA, I do however remember the names of the towns which were indicative of the trades of the people who lived there: ‘Gloversville’ (the people made gloves), ‘Tannersville’ (the people tanned the leather to make the gloves and other leather products), Mechanicsville (these were the master craftsmen: millers, carpenters, butchers who worked in what was called the Mechanical Arts in the early 1890s). 


I also remember that the names came from not just one, but from many sources. The Dutch (Spuyten Duyvil, Stuyvesant, Kinderhook, Amsterdam, Bleecker), the British (York, Albany, Charlestown, Jamestown) and of course, because the Dutch and the English were not the original settlers of the area, many of the villages, towns as well as the streams, lakes and rivers bear names bestowed upon them by the Native Americans tribes who lived there: Wappinger, Tuckahoe, Ticonderoga, Taghkanic, Susquehanna, Saratoga, Saranac, Sagaponack, Nyack, Niagara, Copake,  Cossayuna, Coxsackie Canandaigua, etc. And, for some odd reason, even to this day if you visit towns in the Hudson valley south of Albany, you will find lots of families with Dutch family names.
While I think it is really nice to understand the derivation of German words, it makes quite proud to think about how multi-cultural my homeland is… and has been since ‘the beginning’.




Friday, June 28, 2013

Travelling alone on a day river cruise

The passenger line to the Danube River cruise boat appeared rather quickly, so I hustled to get near the front so that I could get ‘my’ seat.  Since I generally travel alone, I have specific places on various types of transport where I like to sit. On a plane - it is in a window seat just behind ´the wing’. But I must admit with the new jumbo planes, sitting upstairs is quite nice and a bit more intimate.  But now back to the boat.

If you have ever taken one of these cruises you will remember that most people want to sit on the upper deck as close to the front (bow) as possible. Of course, since much of the bow is not accessible to the public, you – and everyone else - often end up sitting mid-section with a totally unobstructed view of the boat’s radar system or  you might have a cornucopia of shots of the back of other tourists heads !!


I, however prefer to sit in the back of the boat. I select a chair which is closest to the stern (the back) … which of course is facing backwards.   Since no one else wants to sit there, I generally have the entire stern area to myself… as if I own it… waiters come and ask me - and only me - if I would like something to eat or drink. I can take interesting unobstructed photos of things as we pass by.   Since I can look both forward as well as backward, I can anticipate things which might look ‘photo-worthy’ and take a photo as we draw closer.


 
But, of course, that privacy also comes at a price. You become an object of curiosity. What is she looking at? What is she taking photos of? Why is she sitting alone in the back? Why is she receiving so much attention from the cruise staff? And being the object of curiosity, people – especially other people who are travelling alone (or people who want to be seen as if they are travelling alone) approach you. Regardless of sexual orientation, I have found that the back of the boat is the place to meet people… or get ‘picked up’. So if you are travelling alone and want someone (gay, straight, married, single ), to talk with, have a drink or dinner with even just to smoke a cigerette with  (you name it!!) ... head to the back of the boat, whip out your camera and just wait!