tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-79088165895944831852024-02-19T17:46:45.192+01:00Diary of a SwaneeswanGermany, for a yearcpswansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10605925915362405935noreply@blogger.comBlogger98125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7908816589594483185.post-8754700222312425632010-07-28T04:55:00.002+02:002010-07-28T04:59:16.816+02:00June 12, 2010<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Two photos taken in the Beyoğlu district. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">1. The view from Galata Tower.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4131/4835916561_2f88679bbf_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4131/4835916561_2f88679bbf_b.jpg" width="480" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">2. How to wash your dog. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Step one: Go to a car wash. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Step two: Attach your dog, using a leash, to a hook on the wall.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Step three: Shampoo your dog.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Step four: Hose your dog clean. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span> <a href="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4083/4835988221_cf664944b4_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4083/4835988221_cf664944b4_b.jpg" width="480" /></span></a></div>cpswansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10605925915362405935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7908816589594483185.post-22084405804104751262010-07-28T04:42:00.005+02:002010-07-28T05:00:53.970+02:00June 11, 2010<div style="text-align: center;">At Topkapi Palace Museum.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4150/4836525694_773b277959_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4150/4836525694_773b277959_b.jpg" width="480" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4148/4836525842_68ef5da682_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4148/4836525842_68ef5da682_b.jpg" width="480" /></span></a></div>cpswansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10605925915362405935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7908816589594483185.post-62001121577026192742010-07-28T04:38:00.000+02:002010-07-28T04:38:09.578+02:00June 10, 2010<div style="text-align: center;">The Hagia Sopha. Surely one of the most breathtaking spaces ever built. </div><div><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">E. got this kid's permission for a photo. We wish we knew the story. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4112/4835916079_69ab0bd0ef_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4112/4835916079_69ab0bd0ef_b.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br />
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</div>cpswansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10605925915362405935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7908816589594483185.post-34356695716037435462010-07-28T04:32:00.002+02:002010-07-28T05:03:46.667+02:00June 9, 2010On June 8 we said goodbye to E's parents and their friends. They headed back to the U.S. We hopped on a train to Vienna. The next morning we hopped on an airplane, and several hours later we landed in Istanbul.<br />
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</div><div>I quickly lost track of which mosque was which (they look remarkably similar), but I believe this was outside the New Mosque. What caught my eye here was the contrast between the beautiful blue tiles, and the pile of junk. There's a metaphor for Istanbul lurking there, I suspect. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4089/4836525374_c98b079853_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4089/4836525374_c98b079853_b.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br />
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</span></span></div></div></div>cpswansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10605925915362405935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7908816589594483185.post-17418173767048896352010-07-28T04:23:00.000+02:002010-07-28T04:23:43.453+02:00June 7, 2010<div style="text-align: center;">Prague Astronomical Clock, with Segway</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4091/4835915767_142cef3017_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4091/4835915767_142cef3017_b.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br />
</div>cpswansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10605925915362405935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7908816589594483185.post-50096250778763777382010-07-21T04:15:00.000+02:002010-07-21T04:15:43.043+02:00June 6, 2010I'm having trouble picking just one photo for this day, so I'm cheating. <div><br />
</div><div>After some further sightseeing in Berlin, E. and I, her parents, and their friends hopped on a train and headed toward Prague. June 6 was our first full day of sightseeing there. Here we are on the funicular on Petrin Hill. </div><div><br />
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</div><div>We had lunch in a local pub, The Hippopotamus. If if you should ever need to entertain your in-laws in a far-away place, I recommend large pieces of roasted meat.</div><div><br />
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</div><div>Everything about the cathedral is beautiful, but this window by Mucha is exquisite.</div><div><br />
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</div>cpswansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10605925915362405935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7908816589594483185.post-54584061206199288292010-07-21T03:52:00.000+02:002010-07-21T03:52:00.082+02:00June 4, 2010(Continued from May 28, 2010.)<br />
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After a quick visit to Bonn, we put my parents-in-law on a train to Mainz, where they joined a guided tour that looped through southern Germany, and then through eastern Germany, culminating in Berlin. Ah yes, Berlin, where E. and I were camped out. <br />
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On June 4 we took them and their biking in Potsdam, which was fairly hilarious given that two of the four couldn't ride bikes. We rented tandems for the occasion, including this heavy, old oddity. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4115/4813497507_407357596e_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4115/4813497507_407357596e_b.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>cpswansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10605925915362405935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7908816589594483185.post-10167337184897499052010-07-21T03:43:00.001+02:002010-07-21T04:17:41.075+02:00May 28, 2010It may help to tell the story if I jump back to the end of May. My parents-in-law and two of their friends flew into Frankfurt, and then took the train up to Bonn. On May 28 we took them on a quick tour of must-see destinations in the area: the Aachen and Cologne cathedrals, and Schloss Augustusburg (shown here).<br />
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</div>cpswansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10605925915362405935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7908816589594483185.post-23232879562594219502010-07-19T03:37:00.000+02:002010-07-19T03:37:47.092+02:00June 3, 2010<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">We had a brief respite in Berlin post-fellowship, pre-in-laws. Taking advantage of this lull, E. and I made a point of it to see the recently opened Ritter Sport concept store near Friedrichstrasse. In case you have been deprived, Ritter Sport is by far the best brand of mass-market German chocolate. It is a brand we stand behind proudly. You might also stay it's a brand E. stands under, hoping nothing tips over. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4095/4807060834_f1f5aed801_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4095/4807060834_f1f5aed801_b.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>cpswansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10605925915362405935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7908816589594483185.post-35205743575983946472010-07-19T03:27:00.000+02:002010-07-19T03:27:03.227+02:00June 1, 2010<div>After ten months in Germany for me (twelve for E.) it was finally time to say goodbye. The Fellows and their spouses gathered for a final shared meal at the <a href="http://www.literaturhaus-berlin.de/">Cafe im Literaturhaus</a> in Berlin. It had been a cold and wet day. Our hosts had previously scheduled a farewell cruise, and over the course of the day, there was grumbling, and rumblings of bowing out. Who wanted to venture to the outskirts of Berlin to have dinner on a boat in the rain? We got lucky though: The boat company thought we were coming the next day, and the organizers had to come up with a plan B. Fortunately, plan B was cozy, artsy, and a short five-minute stroll from our hotel. We had had similar dinners many times before, and we were still in good spirits. It was hard to believe this was the end. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4116/4807060696_c5f48b6ac6_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4116/4807060696_c5f48b6ac6_b.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>cpswansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10605925915362405935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7908816589594483185.post-10356302634037502402010-07-19T00:32:00.000+02:002010-07-19T00:32:03.282+02:00Resurfacing<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">If you follow this blog at all, you'll know that it's been a long while since there has been anything to follow at all. At last report it was May, E. and I were living in Bonn, and Lena was winning the Eurovision song contest. Since then--well, I don't want to give away the story, so I'll just say that a lot has happened. </span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">With this in mind, I am setting myself a new task:to tell the story of the month of June with a photo a day. There may be a gap here or there, but I think I can pretty much do it. Here we go. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
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</div>cpswansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10605925915362405935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7908816589594483185.post-46419519868060575372010-05-29T20:26:00.030+02:002010-05-30T09:15:44.986+02:00Live Blogging Eurovision 2010<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">29 May 2010<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">20:20 CET</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">As regular readers of this blog know, I have <a href="http://swaneeswan.blogspot.com/2010/04/our-star-for-oslo.html">fallen under the influence</a> of the Eurovision Song Contest.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Lena Meyer-Landrut has been in the news a lot since she was selected to represent Germany in Eurovision 2010. She's rocketed to the top of the German pop charts, with three singles in the top five (nos. 1, 2, and 4). She has already become fodder for the German tabloid press, notably after people realized she had shown some skin acting in a television docu-drama, and because she hasn't seen her father in 16 years. Meanwhile, even coffee-purveyor Tchibo is selling Lena t-shirts in its stores. The headline in Spiegel Online is "<a href="http://www.spiegel.de/international/europe/0,1518,695965,00.html">The Cult of Lena-ism: Eurovision's Next Winner?</a>"</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Lena-mania aside, I haven't watched Eurovision since 1988. The funny thing is that what I remember about that show was that it introduced me to a great Irish rock band, The Hothouse Flowers. I later bought their single "<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NC3SPz8eZkM">Don't Go</a>" on cassette. (On cassette! Can you believe that?) What a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eurovision_Song_Contest_1988">wee bit of googling</a> just revealed to me is that 1988 is the year Celine Dion won the contest. Chances are that you haven't heard The Hothouse Flowers (and perhaps you should), whereas I bet that you have heard entirely enough of Celine Dion. Perhaps in 10 or 20 years tonight's contest will be comparably memorable and unmemorable.</div><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">20:55 CET</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple;"><b><br />
</b></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Whoa. I should have turned on the television sooner. There's a huge pre-Eurovision show on, and there are gigantic street parties across Germany. Everybody is screaming and waving little German flags.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">20:58 CET</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I wouldn't quite call it a prayer, but a preacher in civvies just gave a sort of inspirational op-ed about talent. Then the crowd screams 10 - 9 - 8 - 7 - 6 - 5... and the show begins.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">21:20 CET</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Daniel Diges (Spain) looks like a young Art Garfunkel. Not going to win. The story here is that somebody got up from the audience and started dancing during his act. Bouncers had to intervene.</div><div><br />
</div><div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">21:22 CET</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">E. says Norway's Didrik Solli is "dreamy." Song is manipulative and uplifting. Song ends and E. says, "Did you see the ejaculation of fireworks?" Uh...</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">21:25 CET</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Moldova's act is decent, but we're laughing out-loud at their costumes. The sax player is absolutely hilarious. ("He's humping his sax.") And what's the story on the guy with the electric, neon-rimmed violin? The German announcer narrating calls the lead singer the Moldovan Lady Gaga. That's saying something, but I'm not sure what.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
From the semi-final:<br />
<object height="385" width="480"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/VkmncrAPILw&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/VkmncrAPILw&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object><br />
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</div></div><div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">21:37 CET</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Belgium's Tom Dice is cute and charming. Looks like babyface Tobey McGuire, and sounds a bit like Paul Simon. Super talented.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Video of Tom in the semi-final:</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><object height="385" width="640"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/tyjtLiJ2SZ4&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/tyjtLiJ2SZ4&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">21:39 CET</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Regarding Serbia, um, is that a man or a woman who just walked out? Is this song polka or techno?</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">21:43 CET</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Update. Because someone got on the stage while Spain was performing, they will get a second chance. Yeah, good luck with that. May actually be worse without a wiseacre messing things up. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">21:45 CET</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Dear Belarus, it would help if you could sing. And if you want to sing in English, perhaps you should also be able to pronounce English.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I think the German announcer says "kitsch als kitsch kann" at the end of the performance. Sounds like "catch as catch can," but I think he means "as kitschy as it gets."</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">21:57 CET</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">UK's mono-syllabic entrant, "Josh," is abominable. Worse than mushy peas. Makes my ears bleed. Rick Astley-esque, but wildly off-key.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">22:00 CET</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">They just took a quick breather, but now it's on with the show. It's really nice to watch a show with no commercial breaks, and pretty much back-to-back performances. No unnecessary blah-blah.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">22:07 CET</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Turkey's entry is a really cool rock band called maNga. But what's with the grinder girl / robocop backup singer?</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
<object height="385" width="640"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/2UX-pJglo1s&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/2UX-pJglo1s&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
22:08 CET</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Violins are big at this year's Eurovision. Is this the <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-8JRtGMBUz0">Alexander Rybak</a> effect?</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">22:10 CET</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Update. Announcer just said 7 of the acts this year have violins. Told ya so.</div><div><br />
</div><div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">22:15 CET</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Food for thought. The Superbowl attracts about 100 million viewers around the world. Because all those people are watching, there is huge commercial potential, and there are lots and lots of commercials. The Eurovision song contrast attracts about 125 million viewers. Maybe there is some other big televised event I've never heard of, but I'm guessing that makes Eurovision the biggest TV show on the planet. But there are no commercials.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Moral of the story: Europeans think differently.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">22:20 CET</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Regarding Alyosha from Ukraine:</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I say: "She sounds like a Bond song."</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">E says: "She looks like a Bond girl."</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">22:23 CET</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">France has a chance. "Allez, allez, allez" is pretty catchy, I have to admit. Put your hands up. Clap your hands.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">22:30 CET</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Russia. E. says: "With all of these men singing, it's kind of like Fleet Foxes, but bad." I've said this before, but I'll have to say it again: don't sing English if no one will be able to tell you're singing English. And please, no high notes.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">22:42 CET</div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Portugal's Filipa Azevedo can really sing.</div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">22:35 CET</div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">LENA! Germany's little black dress is back. Crowd eats it up. </div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
<object height="385" width="640"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Tv5xfcB0VEA&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Tv5xfcB0VEA&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object><br />
<br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">22:34 CET</div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Armenia: The act is a little weird, kind of like a mini-musical theatre performance. But the song is actually pretty good. Helps that the singer looks like Angelina Jolie.</div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">22:49 CET</div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Whoa, Israel, good looks don't make up for bad singing. </div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">22:51 CET</div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Hey, Denmark, the 80s called. Said they want their sound back. </div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">23:04 CET</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Well, the singing is over, and the voting is taking place. So during this breather, I'd just like to tip my hat to one of the hosts who, at the end of the performances, stripped off his tux to reveal a wide-lapeled green disco shirt--thereby indicating that the work was over and the party was starting. I can't do his transformation justice, but it was unexpected, effective, and well-executed. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">E and I have voted for Belgium and France. Yeah, we're hoping for Lena to pull it off, but we can't vote for the German candidate from Germany. So think of this as strategic voting, because the Eastern Europeans will vote as a block, so we need to counterbalance them by voting for Western European countries. Also, perhaps incidentally, we enjoyed the Belgian and French performers.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">23:15 CET</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Okay, I'm impressed. I am watching, live, thousands of people all across Europe dancing a Eurovision dance. Think: flash mob taking place simultaneously in Ljubljana, Düsseldorf, Hamburg, London, etc.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">23:36 CET</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">E. just pointed out that all the countries of the former Yugoslavia voted for each other. They just fought each other in a war, but they'd rather vote for each other than let someone else get points.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Country by country, the points are being announced and tallied. Germany has a strong lead.....</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">23:30 CET</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Portugal votes for Spain. Azerbaijan votes for Turkey. Greece votes for Albania and Cyprus. Iceland votes for Denmark. You see where I'm going with this? Now, the question is why. Are tastes regional? Do people just like their neighbors more than the people at the end of the street? Or do voting patterns merely reflect where immigrant communities live? (For example: In Germany you can't vote for Germany. But there are many Turkish immigrants living in Germany, and Turkey got a strong vote from Germany.)</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">30 May 2010</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">00:07 CET</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">No way Lena could possibly lose. She's currently leading with 234 points. Closest contender has 165. Meanwhile Belarus has 6 points. Told you that act was bad.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">00:12 CET</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">LENA WINS WITH 246 POINTS. She's walking across the stage to heroic music.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><img alt="The Winner: Lena from Germany" src="http://www.eurovision.tv/save-files/img/upload/news/2010/Oslo/Day_15/Winner_Germany/IG_IMG_5260-RESIZE-120-.jpg" /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Host: "Any words to describe this moment?"</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Lena, out of it: "Hi."</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><img alt="The Winner: Lena from Germany" src="http://www.eurovision.tv/save-files/img/upload/news/2010/Oslo/Day_15/Winner_Germany/_AD06579_1-RESIZE-120-.jpg" /></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>cpswansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10605925915362405935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7908816589594483185.post-69611141188871013152010-05-22T17:37:00.002+02:002010-05-22T20:32:43.568+02:00Martin Dreisbach, b.May 23, 1717If wives are honest and genealogies reliable, then my mother's mother's mother's father's father's mother's father was Martin Dreisbach, born May 23, 1717, in a house called "Leye" in a village called Raumland, in what was then the Earldom of Wittgenstein. Three days later he was baptised in St. Martin's Church. He immigrated to Pennsylvania sometime around the middle of the century, and died in Union County on February 18, 1799. (These details are gathered from <i>The Dreisbach Book</i>, a geneaology published in 1998 by the Dreisbach Family Association.)<br />
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I have often found that going in search of out-of-the-way places my ancestors once lived is an excellent way to spend the day. Yesterday's forecast was sunny and warm with a chance of afternoon ice cream--perfect weather for an excursion in search of Martin Dreisbach.<br />
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By German standards, Raumland is in the middle of nowhere. To get there I took the local S-Bahn from Bonn out to the end of the line, where I transfered to a regional train, which took me to Siegen, where I transferred to an even more regional train, which took me to Bad Berleburg. (That last train is just one or two cars long, and it has the single track entirely to itself. From Bad Berleburg there is nowhere to go except back.) Once I got to Bad Berleburg, I walked about 45 minutes to my destination. Total travel time: about 4 hours each way. <br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe frameborder="0" height="525" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&source=s_q&hl=en&geocode=&q=Raumland,+Bad+Berleburg,+Germany&sll=50.73039,7.10539&sspn=0.006818,0.013711&ie=UTF8&hq=&hnear=Raumland+Bad+Berleburg,+Siegen-Wittgenstein,+North+Rhine-Westphalia,+Germany&t=h&ll=51.039343,8.389263&spn=0.028334,0.030041&z=14&output=embed" width="350"></iframe></div><div style="text-align: center;"><small><a href="http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&source=embed&hl=en&geocode=&q=Raumland,+Bad+Berleburg,+Germany&sll=50.73039,7.10539&sspn=0.006818,0.013711&ie=UTF8&hq=&hnear=Raumland+Bad+Berleburg,+Siegen-Wittgenstein,+North+Rhine-Westphalia,+Germany&t=h&ll=51.039343,8.389263&spn=0.028334,0.030041&z=14" style="color: blue; text-align: left;">View Larger Map</a></small></div><br />
Raumland is very cute and very sleepy. The only local landmark is the church (currently Lutheran), which sits atop a crest. The surrounding homes are built in the local idiom, which is to say they have steep roofs and white walls, defined by sturdy dark timbers. The village is interspersed with small pastures of grass and dandelions, where horses, cows, and kitty cats pass their days.<br />
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It took me a bit of wandering, but soon found an old home--currently used as a barn--neatly labeled "Leye." (A note to any Dreisbach genealogists who might happen upon this blog entry: The inside cover of <i>The Dreisbach Book</i> has an old photo of Raumland, with an arrow labeling the "Birthplace of Martin Dreisbach." The arrow points to a building that is no longer there. The building I found labeled "Leye" is the house immediately <i>behind</i> the building to which the arrow points, and can be matched with the old photo by the pattern of the beams.) I spoke with several neighbors, none of whom had any special knowledge of the history of the house. <br />
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At the top of the hill, the preacher's daughter was practicing riding a unicycle, and unlocked the church for me. If you can read German, you can read more about its history <a href="http://www.kg-raumland.de/kf.html">here</a>. The short version is that it is the oldest surviving church in Wittgenstein, built around 1240-1260. On one side of the choir, wall paintings depicting the way of the cross are visible. They date to the second half of the 15th century.<br />
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Having seen all there was to see, I strolled back to Bad Berlesburg. Nearly all the buildings there are covered in slate.<br />
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I don't know the whole architectural history of the area, but I'd be willing to guess that slate tiling is a more recent phenomenon, as you can infer from this photo of a house that has tile on the front, but visible timbering on the side.<br />
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And then I made my way home, again by way of Siegen, where I stopped to look around.<br />
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Having now been to the Siegtal (Sieg valley) I can see why travel books recommend it. It's not dramatic, but its rolling hills, green pastures, and black and white architecture are pleasant and picturesque.cpswansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10605925915362405935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7908816589594483185.post-15665852675427361202010-05-11T21:22:00.001+02:002010-05-11T21:24:21.346+02:00One more from ParisThis is a nice photo of E. and me at a restaurant in Paris that I swiped off of Facebook. <br />
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<img height="480" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash1/hs518.ash1/30514_637479947937_2602192_36569885_7143431_n.jpg" width="640" />cpswansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10605925915362405935noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7908816589594483185.post-88391022764129100972010-05-11T21:12:00.001+02:002010-05-11T21:23:51.178+02:00And finally, ParisOur trip to Belgium and France is already becoming sort of a fuzzy memory, so it's time to wrap this up. <br />
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The final stop of our tour was Paris. I have visited Paris many times, but I had not done so in nearly ten years. I enjoyed seeing the city again, but also didn't feel compelled to do and see everything. The weather was impeccable--perfect for meandering. <br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1224/4599413290_e9e6644116.jpg" /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Les Invalides</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4023/4599413642_e11e0b9f5b.jpg" /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Christina, Bonnie, and Lauren by the Louvre</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3470/4558116015_1ff8d06be9.jpg" /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Notre Dame</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1371/4598795285_793bfdd144.jpg" /></div><div style="text-align: center;">My lovely E.by the Pompidou</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4031/4598795581_f2b5da72f0.jpg" /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Palais Royal</div>cpswansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10605925915362405935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7908816589594483185.post-40441761444670734912010-05-04T16:51:00.003+02:002010-05-05T09:34:42.482+02:00A day in Alsatian wine countryWhoever you are, I have always depended on the kindness of strangers. <br />
--Blanche DuBois, <i>A Streetcar Named Desire</i><br />
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This is a story about happy accidents. During a biking tour of Strasbourg our Bosch group leader pointed out an <i>art nouveau</i> style building. Stasbourg, she noted doesn't have many fantastic examples of the style. For the good stuff you need to hop on a train and go to <a href="http://travel.nytimes.com/2007/07/29/travel/29dayout.html">Nancy</a>. Fellow Bosch spouse Christina is a great fan of all things <i>art nouveau</i> or <i>Jugendstil</i>, and she and I were quickly plotting an excursion to Nancy. (Nancy is on the <a href="http://whc.unesco.org/en/list/229">UNESCO World Heritage Site list</a> and in all seriousness, that list has never let me down.) <br />
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The next morning, we made it as far as the ticket line at the train station, when we concluded that we were never going to make it to the train. Down but not out, we gathered train schedules and stopped at a tourist information desk, where Christina made inquiries about venturing into Alsatian wine country. We regrouped. We recruited Bosch spouse Lauren to join us. And we hopped on a train headed for Obernai. <br />
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Outside the Obernai train station we stood in front of a map of the small town, getting our bearings. A bearded man in a suit approached us and asked us if he could be of assistance. No, no, we're just figuring out where things are, we replied. By the way, he says, I'm going to be helping a friend out at a private wine sale at his vineyard later in the day, and would you care to join me? We'll meet by the belfry at such-and-such an hour. <br />
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Christina, Lauren and I wandered Obernai, which would be sleepy on a busy day, and was extra sleepy on Monday, which the Germans would call <i>Ruhetag</i>, the day local businesses take a day off. We had some lunch, took photos of the white storks nesting on the roof of the granary (<i>halle des bles</i>), and met our new friend, Claude Mitschek, at the appointed hour by the belfry. <br />
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Before we leave, he says to us, I should like to show you some of the sights of the town. Obernai is a small place, so this amounts to walking us around the block. He showed us an unusual well, details on the renaissance town hall, the storks (local mascots to be sure), and this interesting spot on the wall of the belfry:<br />
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On the left, if you look closely, you'll see the outline of a short sword. To keep the peace, this was the maximum length of swords allowed at market. The metal hook was where unfaithful wives were tied to be taunted. And the line on the right was a standard measure (approximately, the distance from the elbow to the hand). <br />
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At this point fellow explorer Lauren bowed out of the afternoon excursion, but Christina and I hopped in our guide's car. Our destination was Barr, another little village up the road. <br />
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There, as promised, we found ourselves at a private wine tasting for commercial buyers. <br />
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Our host started us on some wines, but when some people who looked like more serious buyers approached, Christina and I made a point of it to stay out of the way. Not long after someone offered us a private tour of the cellars. And so after a quick snack of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tarte_flamb%C3%A9e">Flammkuchen</a>...<br />
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... we went off to learn everything about wine production: how much a bucket of grapes weighs, how to keep the grape varieties separate, how to stomp the grapes (with a giant inflatable balloon, in essence), why you have to keep air out of the casks, how nice it is to be able to hose out the inside of a metal cask, and on an on. Our extremely affable guide was, we think, shirking some other duty by spending time showing us around. He mostly spoke in small bursts, which I would do my best to translate for Christine, and I think we got the gist of almost everything. <br />
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Incidentally, at the end of our tour we walked through the distribution center, and I will surely never see so much wine again. Think of the scene at the end of <i>Raiders of the Lost Ark</i>--the warehouse full of crates--and you're not far off. <br />
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We bought some wine--it was the very least we could do--and made our way back to Strasbourg. We had a grand day out. <br />
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P.S. Needless to say, we recommend the fine wines by Ch. WANTZ.<br />
<a href="http://www.ch-wantz.com/"><img src="http://www.sautter-pomor.fr/images/chwantz.jpg" /></a>.cpswansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10605925915362405935noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7908816589594483185.post-76621455515373857892010-05-04T15:34:00.000+02:002010-05-04T15:34:48.055+02:00StrasbourgThe next stop on our tour was Strasbourg, France, which is absolutely one of the most appealing cities I have ever visited. I genuinely had no idea, and in fact, Strasbourg had barely been part of my consciousness prior to this trip. <br />
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One strange twist was that a volcano had recently erupted in Iceland, disrupting air traffic across Europe. Someone from the Bosch foundation found herself stranded in Brussels. Our group leader therefore drove her to Germany so she could catch a train. An amusing consequence of this situation is that as the best French speaker in the group, I was designated to communicate with the drivers of the bus taking us from Brussels to Strasbourg. <br />
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The architectural highlight of Strasbourg is the cathedral, an exuberantly gothic concoction. <br />
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For aficionados, much of the stained glass is original.<br />
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The square in front of the cathedral attracts street performers. This burly man sang renaissance-era music in an amazing falsetto. <br />
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From on top of the cathedral, you get a great view of the old town. <br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4058/4578383460_08c6275b85.jpg" /></div>cpswansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10605925915362405935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7908816589594483185.post-60155814633919804622010-04-30T14:10:00.001+02:002010-05-05T09:45:06.459+02:00BrugesThe fate of a Bosch spouse is to pass the time while the fellows are tied up. Five days is kind of a long time to spend in Brussels as a tourist so on day three an expeditionary party consisting of four Bosch spouses, one Bosch significant other, and also a DAAD fellow and his spouse set off to visit Bruges. <br />
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Often described as touristy (true), Bruges is nevertheless one of the most appealing cities in Europe to visit. The canals remind you a bit of Venice or Amsterdam, though Bruges cleaner, quainter, and quieter than either of those cities.<br />
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</div>cpswansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10605925915362405935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7908816589594483185.post-85196179629372645092010-04-29T12:20:00.002+02:002010-04-29T12:25:51.819+02:00BrusselsWe're back in Bonn after another Bosch seminar trip. Our bags are unpacked, there is food in the fridge again, and it is time for a recap. We were on the road for two weeks this time, visiting Brussels, Strasbourg, and Paris.<br />
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I'd been through Brussels before, but I had never spent spent days there previously. The city strikes me now as a pleasant mishmash of urban personalities. Its iconic space is the grand place, lined on all sides by imposing facades, including the gothic town hall, and a good many gold-encrusted guild halls. <br />
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Having seen many German cities, the old town in Brussels looks decidedly run down. The cobblestone streets are so uneven one wonders if anyone is taking care of them; many walls are dirty or crumbling; and a surprising number of storefronts are vacant for a place overrun with tourists.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4047/4562919912_5ab87eb495.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4047/4562919912_5ab87eb495.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;">We like to live here. The cars smell good. We like to die.</span> </div><br />
It tells you something about the locals that their mascot is a statue of a pissing boy, the Manneken Pis. If the city looks a bit shabby (despite its obvious EU-generated wealth) then too bad. <br />
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Manneken Pis is, naturally, reproduced ad nauseam as a tourist knickknack, and is also the inspiration for what a copyright lawyer would call derivative works, such as a statue of a pissing girl, Jeanneke Pis, and signs depicting a pissing dog, which indicate designated dog toilets. <br />
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Especially south and a bit east of the city center, one encounters a number of art nouveau buildings. As with the rest of the city, they are frequently dirty and shabby, despite their inherent elegance. I took myself on a tour, but E. took a guided tour, and the guide pointed out that in fact many of the buildings are in bad shape, and that there are few craftsmen capable of maintaining them properly. Having seen analogous buildings in Vienna, Paris, and even Chicago, I do have to conclude that Brussels art nouveau is underwhelming. <br />
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I realize I am alone in my odd enthusiasm, but one of the really great things about Brussels is that it is the undisputed capital of the French-language comic book (<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Adventures_of_Tintin">Tintin</a>, <a href="http://www.asterix.com/">Asterix</a>, etc.). Contributing to the city's funky feel, there are many murals celebrating comic book illustration. In this one, you look down from an imaginary position in the sky at the place where you are standing, except that where you are really standing is a river (and it would be, except that the rivers have all been chased underground). <br />
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The <a href="http://www.comicscenter.net/en/home">Belgian Comic Strip Center</a> is a museum devoted to comics, particularly of the francophone kind. It is housed in a building designed by Victor Horta, the best known art nouveau architect of Brussels. <br />
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My impression of Brussels from this trip is disjointed. Some of it is lovely. <br />
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Some of it could use a good scrub and some competent urban planning. And I take it I should keep an eye out for bandits ahead. <br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2751/4562937444_87c56bfb5c.jpg" /></div>cpswansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10605925915362405935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7908816589594483185.post-43422970362958144732010-04-09T13:42:00.003+02:002010-04-28T17:10:09.513+02:00Our Star for Oslo<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.eurovisionfamily.tv/save-files/user-images/55/ce/d8384a52b9ab3f990c27a71afb18/9323_128792799211_128773219211_2624229_1876415_n-RESIZE-800-450-fit.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.eurovisionfamily.tv/save-files/user-images/55/ce/d8384a52b9ab3f990c27a71afb18/9323_128792799211_128773219211_2624229_1876415_n-RESIZE-800-450-fit.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; height: 339px; width: 604px;" /></a></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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<div>The television offerings in Germany are awful in too many ways to describe. Throughout the year I have been amazed that the channel I watch most consistently is <a href="http://www.viva.tv/">VIVA</a>, a video channel similar to MTV. I don't have the German medical or legal terminology to watch <i>House </i>or <i>Law and Order </i>dubbed, and I have no patience for the dozens of regionally produced (i.e. PBS-style) <a href="http://dict.tu-chemnitz.de/dings.cgi?lang=en&service=deen&opterrors=0&optpro=0&query=stammtisch&iservice=&comment=&email=">Stammtisch</a> programs, where people sit around and talk. </div><div><br />
</div><div>This spring I briefly fell under the spell of <i><a href="http://dict.tu-chemnitz.de/dings.cgi?lang=en&service=deen&opterrors=0&optpro=0&query=stammtisch&iservice=&comment=&email=">Deutschland Sucht den Superstar</a></i>, Germany's version of <i>American Idol</i> (which is amazing in part because I would never, ever waste my time on <i>Idol</i>). In a similar vein but more to the point, I completely succumbed to <i>Unser Star für Oslo</i> (Our Star for Oslo). </div><div><br />
</div><div>The Eurovision Song Contest, for those who don't know, is an annual event televised all across Europe. Established in 1956 as an experiment in simultaneous transmission, the contest has become a European cultural phenomenon. The reason for this, I think, is that it is the only time in the year when everyone in Europe can turn on the television and watch what everyone else is watching. </div><div><br />
</div><div>As Americans, I think we have no idea how tantalizing this premise is. Culture critics complain that since Cronkite and Carson went off the air we no longer have shared mediated experiences. It may be true that we now live in a world with <a href="http://www.brucespringsteen.net/songs/57Channels.html">57 channels and nothing on</a>, but the fact remains that day after day, people in Idaho, Iowa, Alabama, Alaska, Maine, and Michigan all watch exactly the same programs on television. Now imagine a world in which each state speaks its own language, and has its own television networks, and in which there are only two hours a year when people in all 50 states watch the same thing at the same time. That's pretty much what the situation in Europe is. </div><div><br />
</div><div>The <a href="http://www.eurovision.tv/page/home">Eurovision Song Contest</a> is like a cross between American Idol and the Olympics. It's like the former because it entails picking a wining performer. It's like the latter because national pride is at stake. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Each country selects a contestant for the contest as it sees fit. <i>Our Star for Oslo</i> is Germany's selection process. (Oslo is where the contest takes place this year.) This television program is roughly like <i>American Idol</i>: singers perform, judges critique, viewers vote, contestants are eliminated. </div><div><br />
</div><div>By the final program, there were just two contestants left, and somewhere around the middle of the broadcast, things got interesting. The judges' attention shifted from the contestants' performances to the larger issue of <i>winning </i>the Eurovision Song Contest. The winner, they observed, is usually a perky, happy song (ABBA won the song contest with "Waterloo," back in the day). This was the judges' oblique way of saying that the very talented <i>rock </i>vocalist on stage might not be the right gladiator to send into the circus. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Poor Germany hasn't won the Song Contest since 1982. They're seldom in the top ten even. (In the last five years they were 20th, 23rd, 19th, 14th, and 24th. If this were baseball they'd be the Cubs.) So when you think of <i>Our Star for Oslo</i>, think of <i>American Idol</i> with an extra element of <i>we want blood</i>. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Germany's winner this year is <a href="http://www.lena-meyer-landrut.de/">Lena Meyer-Landrut</a>, who is quite good despite her inexperience (she's not even through with high school). The winning song is "<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8QSgNM9yNjo">Satellite</a>," though I think her best performances were some of the <a href="http://www.unser-star-fuer-oslo.de/videos/player/index.html?contentId=63140&initialTab=sendung&showId=1451-01">other</a> <a href="http://www.unser-star-fuer-oslo.de/videos/player/index.html?contentId=63144&initialTab=sendung&showId=1451-01">pieces</a> she sang on the show. </div><div><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.eurovision.tv/save-files/img/upload/news/2010/Germany/lena-RESIZE-s925-s450-fit.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.eurovision.tv/save-files/img/upload/news/2010/Germany/lena-RESIZE-s925-s450-fit.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; height: 300px; width: 400px;" /></a></div><div><br />
</div><div>When the judges veered into thinking about how to win in Oslo--well, that's where it gets interesting. One judge expressed sadness that the winning song, whatever it might be, would be in English. German or English, that is the question. German may <i>represent </i>Germany better in such a competition, but English sells. </div><div><br />
</div><div>And then there's the messy matter of "European" taste. They put up video clips of some of the competition. The styles and tastes represented couldn't be any less similar. Consider <a href="http://www.eurovision.tv/page/multimedia/videos?id=8933">Holland</a> (dreadful), <a href="http://www.eurovision.tv/page/multimedia/videos?id=11083">Ireland</a> (all that musical talent, and <i>this </i>is what they come up with?), <a href="http://www.eurovision.tv/page/multimedia/videos?id=10943">Norway</a> (popera), and <a href="http://www.eurovision.tv/page/multimedia/videos?id=11163">Slovenia</a> (I guess they love this in Ljubljana). </div><div><br />
</div><div>All in all, Eurovision is a healthy reminder that regardless of the state of European unification, the Europeans are still strangers to one another. I didn't invent this thought, but I think this is essentially correct: The only culture Europeans share is American pop culture. No wonder the victory-hungry Germans picked a song in English. </div></div>cpswansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10605925915362405935noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7908816589594483185.post-13441876195281159342010-03-30T10:30:00.003+02:002010-03-30T11:22:58.501+02:00How to make German pretzels<div>Not to be outdone by <a href="http://culinspiration.wordpress.com/">Culinspiration</a>, I think it's time for a food post. In the spirit of going native, I have taken to making my own pretzels. Here's how it's done.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ingredients</div><div><br /></div><div>1 package dry yeast</div><div>1 teaspoon sugar</div><div>1/3 cup warm water </div><div><br /></div><div>3 3/4 cups white flour</div><div>2 teaspooons salt</div><div>additional 1 cup water </div><div><br /></div><div>4 tablespoons baking soda</div><div>4 cups water</div><div>1-2 tablespoons coarse salt or seasme seeds</div><div><br /></div><div>Dissolve the yeast and the sugar in 1/3 cup warm water. Sift the flour into a large bowl, and sprinkle with salt. When the yeast mixture is foamy, add it to the flour. Gradually add just enough of the remaining water to make a strong, elastic, and slightly wet dough. (I use almost the full cup.) </div><div><br /></div><div>Knead the dough for at least 10 minutes, adding as little additional flour as possible. (I'm not kidding about kneading for at least 10 minutes. You want the gluten to develop.) </div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2756/4475208579_acd067a2c8_m.jpg"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2756/4475208579_acd067a2c8_m.jpg" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 180px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Cover the dough with plastic wrap, and allow to rise for an hour and fifteen minutes. Your dough should be a smooth, fat ball, like this:</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2797/4475985482_264832f980_m.jpg"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2797/4475985482_264832f980_m.jpg" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 180px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>On a floured surface, divide the dough into twelve equal pieces. Then roll each piece into a thin 18" snake, slightly fatter in the middle than at the ends. Twist each piece into a pretzel. Twist the ends as illustrated below, then attach the ends to the top of the arch to form a pretzel. If the dough is dry, use a drop of water to hold the ends in place.</div><div><br /></div><div>Place each pretzel on parchment paper, cover with plastic wrap, and allow to rise for 15-20 minutes. </div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4029/4475985610_49f5d5bc0f_m.jpg"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4029/4475985610_49f5d5bc0f_m.jpg" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 180px; " /></a> <a href="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4007/4475208923_072dae7b58_m.jpg"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4007/4475208923_072dae7b58_m.jpg" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 180px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Preheat oven to 425 F (220 C). </div><div><br /></div><div>Combine baking soda with 4 cups water and bring to a boil. Dunk the pretzels one or two at a time for 30 seconds. Lay the pretzels on baking sheets lined with parchment paper. Sprinkle with coarse salt or sesame seeds while still wet. (About 1/4 teaspoon coarse salt per pretzel is enough. A little goes a long way.)</div><div><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2773/4475986058_637e63f70b_m.jpg"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2773/4475986058_637e63f70b_m.jpg" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 180px; " /></a> <a href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2791/4475209071_b98241e96e_m.jpg"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2791/4475209071_b98241e96e_m.jpg" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 180px; " /></a></div><br /></div><div>Bake the pretzels for 20 to 25 minutes until they are a dark golden brown. Serve fresh with butter, mustard, or cheese.</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2753/4475209347_2a4609d23b.jpg"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2753/4475209347_2a4609d23b.jpg" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 500px; height: 375px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>The Germans call pretzels <i>Laugenbrezen</i>, which means "lye pretzels." The secret to the distinctive crunchy exterior, it seems, is to dunk the dough in a 4% solution of NaOH (sodium hydroxide). For home use, baking soda is a suitable substitute, but using a lye solution is the right way to do it.</div>cpswansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10605925915362405935noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7908816589594483185.post-47720208235793316532010-03-26T10:31:00.003+01:002010-03-26T10:50:32.585+01:00Make it stop<div>For as long as we have been in Bonn, our street has been torn up so workers can replace pipes. The project has crawled up the street, and is now in full force just outside our apartment. The booming and crashing begins every morning around 6:45 and goes on until the late afternoon. At the current pace of progress, they will be on our block until, oh, about the time we move again. </div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2702/4464560918_ddee92a32e.jpg"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; "></span></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2702/4464560918_ddee92a32e.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 375px; height: 500px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2702/4464560918_ddee92a32e.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The project is popular with small children, as you can imagine. (Check out this little kid's sweet ride on the back of the stroller.)</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4036/4463805207_274b85a4ec.jpg"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4036/4463805207_274b85a4ec.jpg" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 500px; height: 375px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">As for me, two backhoes are outside my window making noise and shaking my floor, and I'm ready for it to end. </div>cpswansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10605925915362405935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7908816589594483185.post-35432033883344745282010-03-26T10:27:00.001+01:002010-03-26T10:30:16.421+01:00Eugene and Nikki were here<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4024/4464560804_b5ef0d1693.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 500px; height: 375px;" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4024/4464560804_b5ef0d1693.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">They came, they saw, they wandered.</div>cpswansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10605925915362405935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7908816589594483185.post-16636323928419784862010-03-24T21:22:00.002+01:002010-03-24T22:33:47.647+01:00Telltale signs that I may be living in a German apartmentIf I need light in the hallway leading to my apartment, I need to press a button that turns the light on for just long enough to climb two flights of stairs. It's a good idea to have my cellphone handy to use as a night light in case I don't make it to my door before the light goes out. <div><br /></div><div>That hallway is not heated. </div><div><br /></div><div>When I enter my apartment I am standing in an enclosed entrance hall (Flur), where I take my shoes off and tuck them under the stairs. Because there are no closets in Germany, I hang my coat on a hook on the wall. From the Flur I can reach the bathroom, the kitchen (separated from th Flur by a door), and the living room (also separated from the Flur by a door). </div><div><br /></div><div>To reach the table with my food, I must go through two doors. It is nice to be able to close the door to the kitchen, especially if there's something stinky in there. </div><div><br /></div><div>My refrigerator is about a third the size of an American refrigerator. I do not have a freezer, which effectively deprives me of peas and ice cream. My fridge is designed to fit inside a kitchen cabinet (and my kitchen cabinets are designed to accommodate a fridge). </div><div><br /></div><div>I heat my water to make my tea in an electric kettle. Mine happens to be cheap and poorly designed. Still, it boils water in about 60 seconds. </div><div><br /></div><div>I carefully separate my trash: paper in one bin; glass in another; plastic and metal in a third. Many of the bottles I purchase can be returned to the grocery store, where I feed them into a machine, and get a little coupon that I redeem when I purchase my groceries. Because I separate out so many recyclables and <a href="http://dict.tu-chemnitz.de/dings.cgi?lang=en&service=deen&opterrors=0&optpro=0&query=pfand&iservice=&comment=&email=">Pfand</a> bottles, it takes me a long time to accumulate actual trash. Unfortunately, this means a faint stink often lingers in the air. </div><div><br /></div><div>I don't have any cookie sheets as such. I have a deep <a href="http://dict.tu-chemnitz.de/dings.cgi?lang=en&service=deen&opterrors=0&optpro=0&query=backblech&iservice=&comment=&email=">Backblech</a> that came with my stove, and fits inside it like a baking rack. I am always puzzled that doesn't result in food that's over-baked either on the top or the bottom, but this is never the case. </div><div><br /></div><div>I have an on-demand water heater in the kitchen, and another in the bathroom. This means that I have an infinite supply of hot water (though sometimes it isn't very hot). </div><div><br /></div><div>My bathtub does not have a curtain. Nor does it have a door. It has a folding barrier that covers about two thirds of the width. Showers are chillier when you're not really enclosed. </div><div><br /></div><div>I have a two-speed toilet. I explained how to operate a German toilet in a <a href="http://swaneeswan.blogspot.com/2009/09/how-to-flush-contemporary-german-toilet.html">prior post</a>. </div><div><br /></div><div>I have a heated towel rack. (Be jealous.)</div><div><br /></div><div>In my bathroom there is a washing machine. It is highly water-efficient. However, a cycle takes about two hours. It wants me to wash my clothes in really, really hot water, because that--so the thinking goes--is the secret to cleanliness. </div><div><br /></div><div>90% of the stuff in my apartment came from Ikea: table, chairs, sideboard, hutch, TV stand, art, wardrobe, bed, bedding, rugs, lamps, dishes, pots, silverware, kitchen cabinets, etc. </div><div><br /></div><div>Like my German neighbors, I am highly conscious of my electricity consumption. I turn lights off when I leave the room. I turn the television off--really off--when I'm not watching. </div><div><br /></div><div>However, also like my German neighbors, I am not heat efficient. I participate in the great German ritual of <a href="http://dict.tu-chemnitz.de/deutsch-englisch/l%fcften.html">lüften</a>, which means that though there is a blizzard outside, I feel the need to open my windows and let all the warm air out, and the cold air in. </div><div><br /></div><div>It may be that like my German neighbors, I am worried about <a href="http://dict.tu-chemnitz.de/dings.cgi?lang=en&service=deen&opterrors=0&optpro=0&query=schimmel&iservice=&comment=&email=">Schimmel</a>. Yes, mildew may be collecting even as I write this. Opening the window will save me from this fate. I guess. </div><div><br /></div><div>My windows open in two directions. If the handle is horizontal, I can open my window like a door. If the handle is vertical, my window hinges at the bottom and opens a sizable crack at the top. </div><div><br /></div><div>I do not have screens on my windows because I live in northern Europe, and there are few bugs to bug me. Also, if I had screens in my window, I would not be able to do any of those things with my windows. And if I didn't do those things with my windows, I might get Schimmel.</div><div><br /></div><div>My doorknobs aren't knobs. They are horizontal. Thus:</div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.adero.de/img/wagenfeld_doorwd28_k1.jpg"><img src="http://www.adero.de/img/wagenfeld_doorwd28_k1.jpg" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 67px; height: 67px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>My wife and I do not share a blanket. I have a small comforter with a duvet. She has the same. </div><div><br /></div>cpswansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10605925915362405935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7908816589594483185.post-63553008461001290402010-02-23T13:37:00.002+01:002010-02-23T13:59:25.984+01:00Karneval AlaafLike all of Rheinland, carnival is a major celebration in Bonn. There are dozens of events, of which the highlights are possibly <a href="http://www.bonn.de/rat_verwaltung_buergerdienste/stadtbezirke/beuel/00454/index.html?lang=de">Weiberfastnacht</a>, when women snip off men's ties, carnival Sunday, when the old town hall is stormed by soldiers, and <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rosenmontag">Rosenmontag</a> (Rose Monday), when a parade winds through the city. <div><br /></div><div>The gist of Rosenmontag is to wear a crazy costume and stand at the edge of the parade route...</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4052/4381964428_2a62234491.jpg"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4052/4381964428_2a62234491.jpg" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 500px; height: 375px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Then as so-called regiments pass by...</div><div><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2728/4381207411_b1166a9cc6.jpg"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2728/4381207411_b1166a9cc6.jpg" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 500px; height: 375px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2699/4381964890_56a8d5622f.jpg"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; "></span></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2699/4381964890_56a8d5622f.jpg"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2699/4381964890_56a8d5622f.jpg" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 500px; height: 375px; " /></a></div></div><div><br /></div><div>... raise your arms and shout "Alaaf." Then the soldiers will throw you something good from their floats...</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4010/4381207255_b8839cdbf0.jpg"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4010/4381207255_b8839cdbf0.jpg" border="0" alt="" style="cursor: pointer; width: 500px; height: 375px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>... such as Kamelle (candy) or Strüsschen (flowers). </div>cpswansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10605925915362405935noreply@blogger.com0