Travel, Travel, Travel

Habaneros and corn at the Viktualienmarkt in Munich.

So, blogging is a bit erratic at the moment - again.  I think I'm overdoing the travel bit... but it has been oh so wonderful these last couple of weeks.

Carousing at the Englischer Garten in Munich.

 Cream tea in Teignmouth, a coastal village in Devon, England.

Dipping my feet in the English Channel.

 Lots of lovely train rides.

Next up: two lovely weeks in the San Francisco Bay Area with my family and North Carolina with John's.  It's a very fond farewell I'm saying to Germany, but I'll be back.  And I'm looking very much forward to the future.

Feasting: Last Meals in Heidelberg

We've had some fantastic German food here in Heidelberg.  Let's reminisce:

A traditional Bavarian Weisswurst breakfast. At Zum Franziskaner.

Traditional Palatinate blood sausage and liver Knödel, always with buttery potatoes. At Kulturbrauerei.

Lots of wonderful beers: zum Wohl!

One of my favorite ways to spend a Saturday: hike to the monastery and eat fresh cheese, bread, and olives there in the open air.

But I've got to say that my favorite German thing to eat here is Schweinshaxe: roast crackling pork knuckle - 

the one above is at one of our favorite restaurants, Vetter, served with sauerkraut, Semmelknödel, and mustard.

As you can see, this ain't for the weak of heart - or the weak of stomach.  I will miss all this hearty goodness.  But we still have this weekend in Munich!  Let's see what they have on offer there...

Wandering: The Road Goes Ever On And On

Dusk at the Jesuitenkirche.

This is my last week in Heidelberg... I won't be flying back to the States for another week or so, but after this Friday I'll be traveling around, first to Munich and then to the UK, then back here to pack up and go.  I can't tell you how sad this makes me!  I never expected to live in Germany or to become so fond of it, but Heidelberg has really become home in the last year.  I will miss:

the view from my apartment onto the rooftops of the Altstadt and the hills of the Philosophenweg,

 peering into bakery windows to see what ridiculous pastries they're hawking,

 meeting friends for lunch in plazas,

wandering around on little trails,

pausing on the Old Bridge to look at distant hills and to wonder what lies beyond...

But aside from these things, I will miss the home this place has given me.  It really has been a haven after a very tough couple of years.  It has been an ideal place to study, think, explore, recover, and take delight in life and the world.

Wandering: Old Farmsteads in Bavaria

Right on the southwest border of Germany, in Bavaria, there's an open-air museum or Freilichtmuseum that exhibits several old Bavarian farmsteads, some dating back as far as the 16th century.  At the time I was visiting I had already spent two rain-drenched days with my friends touring around Salzburg and other sites nearby: we were cold, miserable, and water-logged.  An "open air" museum was about the last thing I wanted to see in the misty drizzle.  Thank goodness, then, that we were given free rein to explore inside all the quaint farmhouses and workshops.

We all squealed when we saw these feather beds upstairs in one old house.  How sweet!  How simple life was!  How Little-House-on-the-Prairie and Anne-of-Green-Gables!  But then one catches a glimpse of a chamber pot in the bedroom corner.  Oh.  Hmm.

I can't imagine working with this stove.  I just don't have the strength to stoke 

the fire and manage those heavy iron pots, day after day after day.

This seems a bit more manageable.

But the work is never done: these rags must be ripped into strips, sewn together, and wound.

Then they're woven on this enormous loom to become floor mats.

 Wool must be carded and combed, then spun and knit!

Then there are plants to sow, weed, water, and harvest...

Fruit to be canned and pickled, wines to be fermented and stored.

I say I would love to do all these things... but only as hobbies.  I don't think I could bear the physical weariness I would feel if I had to do them, day in, day out.  And without central heating!  No, I suppose I prefer the life I lead, in which I only dabble in these things, then return to my books and writing.  But who know what may happen someday?  Maybe I'll turn farmwife...

Haiatus

Soon I will be one of these picnickers, lounging on the banks of the Neckar and enjoying some sunshine.  The next three weeks, however, are crunch time for me.  I have my general comprehensive exam coming up - first a 6-hour written exam followed up by an oral defense of that in front of my faculty.  I'm facing this exam with a bit more equanimity than my Greek exam, which I took this last January.  After all, this will be in English, and there's much more leeway to argue about what I've said than when translating passages.

Still, it's tough going at times, and my thinking sometimes feels like that canoe: not quite going with the current and feeling the drag of sluggishness and confusion.  Still!  Three more weeks and I'll be off!  Never mind the next hoop, waiting for me in the Fall.  I'll have several weeks of glorious nothing.  Actually, a lot more than nothing.  Travel, family, sunshine, knitting, sniffing, tasting.  Given, of course, that I pass!  But I'm vowing to stay confident and cheerful to the bitter end.

And then it will be smooth sailing.  Till then, I must say ta-ta-for-now.

Making: Forest Canopy Shawl for Mother's Day

I've been waiting to blog about this one - I finished this weeks ago, but since it was for my mother, and she reads this blog, I had to wait.  I must say, this has been the most challenging and gratifying project I've knitted.  Being new to lace knitting, I had no idea what to expect.  But the pattern for the Forest Canopy Shawl is perfect for first time lace knitters.  Here the link for the pattern.

This is what it looked like while still on the needles... pretty darn unimpressive.  And all those red threads?  Those are life lines that I kept putting in to hold my place in case I had to rip back due to some horrible mistake.  And, believe me, I had to rip back.  Luckily, I got better as I went along, and ripped back less and less.  In the beginning I was so discouraged, and knitting seemed like it had become an exercise in futility and frustration.  I almost decided that I was simply not a lace knitter.  Sweaters and mittens I could do.  Lace?  Why do something that makes you curse and throw things?

But something magical happened when I finally slipped it off the needles, washed, and then blocked it (on a hideous old mattress, I must say).  The lace opened up.  The pattern came out.  And I thought: I made that?  As an academician, these moments are hard to come by.  Rarely do I write something or argue something and think: There, that's settled.  That's correct.  In fact, the whole enterprise of research and theory requires that we keep questioning our work.  It can be rewarding, no doubt, but there's a certain oomph of finality that's lacking.  This is why I gravitate towards knitting and baking: these are crafts where the question (can I do this?) gets firmly answered (yes! no!) at least to a more certain degree.  Of course, I'm sure the deeper I go into either of these crafts the more I will find that is theoretical and debatable, especially as craft moves towards art.  But, for the time being, it is very, very satisfying to say: I made this! 

We took these on the Philosophenweg, in the forest, in honor of its name.  I call my individual shawl, however, the Sea Canopy, given its wonderful shades of blue.

Raveled here.

Making, Wandering, and Feasting: May Festival at the Neuberg Abbey

This last Saturday we celebrated May Day at an abbey nestled in the grassy hills of Neuberg.  It all seemed so magical: here I was, in Germany, going to a Maifest with monks! Beer! A spitted ox!  It was so Christian and pagan all at once - we were inviting the new spring to come in but doing it all in a sanctioned cloister of godly men.  (I was less interested in attending the festivities for Walpurgis the night before - it basically involves tramping up the Philosophenweg at the dead of night, which would be great fun except that in this instance you'd be surrounded by drunken university students carrying fake torches.  If it were more pagan, and less drunken-college-party, I would go.)  Anyway!  The abbey grounds were indeed lovely.

 It was a pearly, gray day, and the walk there was nice and refreshing.

The monks run a shop full of local products, many of them made at the abbey.

Fresh eggs!  The eggs in Heidelberg, in general, seem fresher: the yolks are a brighter color, the shells often have a bit of down stuck on them.  It may not mean anything, but it seems a bit closer to the earth to me.

I am a weak-kneed fool when it comes to bottles and jars of handmade goodies.  Witness that I have 1) my own homemade strawberry-rhubarb jam at home as well as 2) unfinished jars of quince and plum preserves from a local restaurant.  So what did I do?  Promptly bought a jar of apple-ginger jelly.  Good thing I am not a drinker or I would have made off with a few bottles of monk-brewed apple brandy and what-not.

We were promised a whole spitted ox (it said so in the adverts) but we apparently arrived too late: the earlier May Day revelers had gnawed that thing to the bone!  Though I must say, this is a small ox.  "Must have been a baby ox," I remarked, to which my friend said, "Please don't say that again!"

Never mind, we had excellent roast trout and potatoes,

we watched the monks imbibe,

and did some imbibing ourselves (along with some Feuerwurst and pretzels).

And the walk home in the twilight, along the river, was lovely.

Wandering: Der Philosophenweg im Frühling (The Philosophers' Way in Spring)

Across the river and up, up, up the Schlangenweg (Snake Path) is the Philosophenweg.  I've wandered upon it many times these past few weeks.  Somehow I find myself chancing upon epiphanies and new ideas when I hike this path, even though I've taken to it to "get away" and clear my head.  I suppose it is aptly named and it works a type of enchantment with its meandering curves.

Now, in the early spring, the path seems especially enchanted.  Yesterday afternoon, with the sun reaching in through the bright green canopy, whispers seemed to swirl around me, and little movements in the undergrowth quickened as I approached and then grew silent.

 Across the valley, most trees are still quiet and sleeping, but a battalion of pines marches down the slope.

Once I see these pleading branches above me, I know that my walk is almost over.  Then I take the sloping path down to Haarlass, then back along the Neckar River, across the Old Bridge, and back into my study.  But I'm not quite sure that the enchantment doesn't last for a few hours more, ebbing away slowly while I go about the rest of my day.

Wandering: A Walk to the Castle

You can either take the tram or hike up the hillside to ramble around the ruins of the Heidelberg Castle (blown up by the French in 1689).  It's easier to take the tram - but then you would miss sights like the one above . . .

. . . and a miniature landscape of moss on the steps up.

The old clock tower at the gates of the castle.

Here's a larger view of our beloved town, looking down from the castle walls.  

Our apartment is about a couple buildings to the left of those twin spires in front of the bridge.

There's a large expanse of park grounds on the plateau of land next to the castle.  I am waiting for warmer weather to come up here with my knitting and a book or two.  Or three or four, depending on how far I am studying for exams!  Speaking of which, I must now be off to study.