The Road Less Traveled

LAST DAYS IN GERMANY

June 22, 2009: Munich

From Salzburg I took the RailJet (Austrian ICE) train to Munich, and went one S-Bahn stop to Motel One Sendlinger Tor (the hotel chosen by Business Spotlight). I spent over an hour checking email (free wi-fi access in the lobby). I also looked up the address and directions to the Free Ukrainian University.

I walked down Sendlinger Strasse past multiple shops to the Old Rathaus Square. I found the Fraukirchen and basked once again in the pious beauty of its vaulted white and red-brick ceilings.  I walked on till I reached the university, then the Victory Arch: “Built in Victory, Destroyed in War, Restored for Peace.”  I checked my map and realized I had gone too far; I needed to get into and down through the Englisher Garten to get to the Ukrainian University. I walked through the park past the “Chinese Tower” as the rain poured down. I found my way to Pienzenauer Str. 15, but there was no school there. I was disappointed, but I still enjoyed my walk to places I’d seen in 2005.  I had forgotten how charming Munich was.

I came back out near the neighborhood where Peter and I had stayed on my last trip there. I found a place called News Bar that had happy hour, a rare find in Germany. I ordered a Cosmopolitan and a spinach soup that was so good I stayed to have their penne pasta with cheese, also excellent.  I read the local newspaper while the TV showed MTV reality shows.

As I was getting ready to leave,  a show called “Parental Control” came on. I saw man say (with German subtitles), “Hi, I’m Jay, I’m a DJ”. His wife Linda introduced herself. I realized it was my friend Nick’s friends Jay and Linda! The odds of that happening are astronomical, and I took a picture of the TV with my camera and sent it to Nick just to have proof that I wasn’t using Cosmo goggles.

June 23-25, 2009

Dinner in Mannheim

The presentation at Business Spotlight went well. I had lunch with Ian (the editor-in-chief whom I met at the conference in Dnipropetrovsk and who invited me to give the presentation there) at a nearby Italian restaurant. I caught the S-Bahn back to the hotel, picked my things up, and caught the ICE train to Mannheim.  When it arrived, Peter miraculously was standing right in front of the door of my train car.  He was able to carry my giant suitcase off the train.  We headed to his place and I had the usual tour of what’s been renovated in his apartment since my last visit, but not my usual stop at his parents’ house since they were on their usual trip to the Black Forest for a week.

After settling in, we set out for dinner. We passed by a Chinese restaurant that Peter said was good and that looked nice, but I wasn’t in a mood for German Chinese food. He then said there was a popular Greek restaurant on the Rhine that his parents often go to.  That sounded good to me. The weather was much nicer in Mannheim than in Munich; it was warmer and drier.  We sat outside and watched all the ships and barges floating down the Rhine as we ate our tzaziki appetizer (a thicker, less herbed version of what I usually get in the States), lamb salad (the lamb was perfectly cooked) and moussaka (also fantastic), and drank our beer.  Peter corrected me when I said “Weissbier”, saying that term is only used in Bavaria; in Mannheim it is called “Hefe-Weizen.”

A Day at a German School

The next day we headed to Peter’s school at the uneducational hour of 7:00 a.m.  Peter felt bad that I had to get up so early, and I felt bad that he and the students have to do that every day.  He introduced me to the principal (who greeted me in German that I understood), then took me to the spacious teacher’s room.  Peter was giving a test the first two periods, so I went to another teacher’s (Tina’s) class.  Even at 8:00 a.m. I was surprised that students who have had several years of English could not say three words without switching to German, could not say words like “three times a week” in something approaching English.  In all classes I was introduced as someone who spoke no German so the students would be forced to use English, but when one student asked me what languages I speak, I had to be honest and mention some German as well as Russian. One student then told me he was from Kazakhstan, but when I switched to Russian he
couldn’t say a sentence in that either.

Upon leaving that class I was reminded that in Germany, the teachers move from room to room and the students stay in one place.  I thought that was really strange, and Peter added that it really makes things difficult when you have to set things up.  During a 20-minute break I drank some Viennese mélange (coffee with sweet milk) from the vending machine (70 euro cents), and met a woman who teaches Russian. She would have invited me to her class, but it only meets on Fridays and I was flying out Thursday.

The second class I visited spoke more English, though I also did my activity where everyone goes around the room and says their name and their favorite word in English to open them up a little bit.  The third class was the most enthusiastic about “asking the native speaker” questions; they even asked me to stay an extra period.  On the other hand, there was so much talking among students (which reminded me of Ben Rampton’s research except they weren’t always focused on the topic at hand) I often had to shout to ask them to be silent and listen to each other. I soon understood why Peter was losing his voice!

By the end of this class I was happy that I’d “done some good” but ready to say goodbye to the school. Peter had some last minute business to wrap up though, so while he did that I browsed through Tina’s copy of the “Abi-Zeitung”, a yearbook for students who have finished their Abitur (grade 13 diploma, the highest of three diploma levels which makes them eligible to attend university). On the way out Peter also pointed out a wall painted in sections by graduating classes, a concept introduced by the principal to reduce graffiti.

Peter drove back to Mannheim, and I said I was ready to try the Chinese restaurant. I thought they might have a lunch special, but in fact they had an exquisite buffet for 7 Euros with recognizable and high-quality Chinese dishes, dim sum (sesame buns and potstickers), and something that resembled kim bap. Peter said on weekends they have a very popular buffet with fish as well.

Saarbruecken and France and Flammkuchen!

Satisfied with lunch, we went back to the apartment. After a brief rest, we got in the car and drove to Saarbruecken, where Peter’s friend Christoph lives.  Peter pointed out the sign welcoming us to Saarland, which said in German, “It’s beautiful that you are here.”  We also counted and realized I’ve now been in 9 of the 16 German Laender (states).  So in addition to seeing all 50 U.S. states I now have the goal of seeing all 16 German states.

We picked Christoph up at his place, and drove to a park on the Saar river. We sat outside in the warm sun at a bench and drank another large Hefe-Weizen.  That really gave me a strong buzz, but I managed to walk with Peter and Christoph to Saarbruecken’s castle, which wasn’t even worth taking a picture of.  At least the walk along the river was nice.

We turned right and headed into the center of town, a surprisingly hip yet architecturally historic area.  Christoph said many young people from France (12 km away) come into Saarbruecken to have fun.  That didn’t sound good for France, but Peter knew after all the times he’d told me about driving to France for flammkuchen (an Alsace-Lorraine thin crust white pizza) with his friends that it was a dream of mine to do the same, and he wanted to make that dream come true.

We walked back to the car, and 10 or 15 minutes after hitting the road, we saw an EU sign (blue background with gold stars in a circle) that said “Frankreich” (France).  We couldn’t stop anywhere to take a picture, but it was literally a sign that we had left Germany and entered France.  It took a few more kilometers, though, until we left Saarbruecken city and started seeing road signs in French.

We stopped in one town, but found no place to eat. Christoph saw a sign that the center of that town was another mile away. We got back in the car and found the center; Christoph wanted to park again but I didn’t want to park till I knew there was a place to eat. Poor Peter drove around a bit and we saw nothing open. Christoph knew a place in Saarbruecken that had Flammkuchen, and since this town in France seemed pretty dead, it made more sense to head back.

We drove back and saw the “Bundesrepublik Deutschland” (Germany) EU sign, but foolishly I didn’t take a picture because I’ve been in Germany so many times.  It was only later that I really understood the significance of that sign, that there was no more border control. These were two states in the European Union.

After stopping one more time to see a historical restaurant, we finally made it to Der Flammkuchenhaus.  And what a fortuitous thing it was that we came back to Saarbruecken.  Der Flammkuchenhaus was running a special on Wednesday nights, all the Flammkuchen you could eat for 9.99 Euros per person.  They even used the English words “all you can eat” in the sign.

Our first round I got a small ‘Elsasser Art’ (the classic Flammkuchen with bacon and onions), Christoph got the “Special” (all that plus some strange orange cheese), and Peter got the Champignon (classic with mushrooms). We agreed that of the three, the Champignon was the best.

It had taken so long to get the first round we ordered the next round as soon as our pizzas arrived. I got the tomato and basil, which was good but as Peter correctly said really wasn’t Flammkuchen anymore.  Ditto for Christoph’s olive and feta Flammkuchen.  Peter got one with potatoes, and said he learned today that you should never eat potatoes on Flammkuchen. He said the second lesson of the day was that two all you can eat places in one day is too many.

Our last round was dessert: a large apple Flammkuchen a la mode, and a raspberry Flammkuchen. The apple Flammkuchen was okay; Peter said he’d had better apple Flammkuchen in a different part of France (that place is only open on weekends).  I was quite satisfied with the raspberry Flammkuchen.

By the time we left it was after 10:30 pm, but the sky was dark blue rather than pitch black.  I slept most of the hour-long ride home. I felt bad because Peter was tired too and had to stay awake and drive, but I didn’t want to talk to him to keep him up because his voice was so hoarse and sore.

The Journey Home

The next morning, Peter dropped me off at the train station at 8 a.m. on his way to work. It was far earlier than I needed to leave, but I couldn’t have gotten myself with all my luggage on the tram and didn’t really want to pay for a taxi or hang out in the apartment alone. I plunked down 22.50 Euros for the ICE train direct to Frankfurt Flughafen (airport).

When I got to the gate for my Lufthansa flight, they were calling for volunteers to take a later flight because they were overbooked. The deal was either overnight in a hotel, or a same-day flight to New York with ground transportation to Philadelphia.  Both options paid out the same hefty voucher.  I had to be in Philly for things on Friday, so I chose the New York flight, as did three other people.  They also gave us a 15 Euro food voucher, which I used at a newsstand to buy more goodies to bring home. I went 6 dollars over, but still feel I got a bargain.

The three other volunteers and I went out passport control and exchanged our vouchers for Euros. One of the volunteers,Yasmin, helped me find the best exchange rate—still way lower  than the “interbank” rate, but better and easier than anything I could get in the States and hey, it’s still free money.  Later another volunteer said I could have the money credited to my bank card.  That would have been better.

I’m not sure how or why, but somehow when they rebooked me and another woman, Yasmin, they upgraded us to business class.  This meant before the flight we were able to sit in the departure lounge, a quiet oasis with soft drinks, champagne, beer on tap, grilled sandwiches, beef broth, fruit, and more.  On the way out I grabbed Izvestia (a Russian newspaper) and a Russian magazine, signs that there are some Russians who are doing very very well.  On the plane I got a seat that lies all the way down, and plug-in port for my laptop at my seat.  So much for being a poor and starving student!

We were all amazed when we got off the plane, got through passport control, and our bags were there almost immediately.  I thought for sure they’d be lost or waiting for us in Philadelphia.  Yasmin predicted correctly, however, that JFK did not get the message/email from Frankfurt, and had not booked a shuttle for us.  The ticket agent started calling around frantically and said one would be there in a hour. That didn’t seem so long to wait. When the car did pull up, it was a limo.  I’d never been in a limo in my life (I went to both proms in a minivan) and I have to say it was the coolest ride from New York to Philly I’ve ever had in my life.  Somewhere in my wicked, miserable youth, I must have done something good.