Driving to Euskirchen

I thought I would not drive at 130 kph, which is the speed limit on the Autoroutes.  But I do.  It just happens.  The Peugeot likes it.  Blame the Peugeot.  The signs along the road indicate that if there is precipitation,  the limit is 110kph, in the absence of same, 130kph.  But trucks must keep in the right hand (slow) lane. (Absolumment!)  And they do.  Unless one truck wants to pass another, and takes forever to do so, and holds up miles of cars in the process.  But that happens rarely. Peugeot and fly generally tootle along in the slow lane with the trucks, at 120kph.  A speck in the rear view mirror is something flashing by on the left and then a speck way up ahead. And if one is silly enough to be in the fast lane driving at anything under 130, they practically push you out of the way! 

Driving today from Eichhoffen to Euskirchen, up near Koln, the Fly and the Peugeot had to trust themselves to the Voice.  Maps were checked, routes were identified.  But when an address is keyed into the Sat Nav, the Voice takes over. Consequently, I have very little idea of how I got here, but I could cite the Autoroute numbers, if anyone really wanted to know.  A couple of times we got lost.  Sometimes the Voice does not know that a road has been closed temporarily.  Once the Voice was silently disgusted when the Fly stopped at a MacDonalds.  (I was hungry, and that was all that was offering. There are actually very few of them here).  

Somewhere, I think outside of Trier, which is an exceptionally old city, and which I must find time to visit, (beautiful countryside too), I found myself in windmill land.  I have read that Germany makes more use of solar and wind power than we do in Australia, although we have so much more sunshine and with goodness knows how many miles of coastline, so much capacity for generating power from onshore winds.  But in the valleys here, there are crops of windmills.  I suppose crops is an appropriate collective noun, they look as though they have been planted there.  About 20-30 in each group I saw, catching whatever winds came up the valley, all twirling away.  They are huge, but not ugly.  Always white, they are much less threatening and invasive looming than the steel towers carrying the communications lines across the country. 

And then, a crop of solar panels!  Acres and acres and acres of them, looking like they had been planted as little panelettes in the spring, and now in the autumn were at the peak of their power, glinting at the afternoon autumn sunshine.  Again, at UQ there is a solar panel installation which is supposedly the largest in the southern hemisphere.  But it would not make the Leader Board here I suspect. 

Euskirchen was achieved, but navigating to the hotel was completely confounded - the whole of the Zentrum was closed off for a festival (it all looks like Side Show Alley at the Ekka, German style.  I asked someone what it was about, and he said, just fun) .  The Voice could NOT understand that I could not go through that road. I told it, repeatedly.  It took 40 minutes, during which I eventually found my way right around to the other side of the town, and the Voice “recalculated” and got me in to Kirchenstrasse and the Hotel.  

I have checked in, been out and checked out the festival, had a bratwurst and brotchen, and am now thinking that is enough for a day.  But on the TV is a skating show, so will have to watch that. 

Strasbourg again ...and pumpkins

Having been mist-bound at home on Friday, and spent the day organising bookings in Germany next week, and also cruising around on Ancestry.com, with interesting results, I set out late morning Saturday for Strasbourg, counting on the mist lifting by the time I got there.  And it did.  And Strasbourg was Alive!  On Sundays, it is closed, hardly anyone in the centre; they must be at home enjoying a lie-in and lunch.  It is on Saturday that they go to town. All the squares and linking streets were packed, people just strolling, just enjoying whatever turned up.  A book market in one square, (at one, fly acquired an 1898 fashion newspaper, on the front page an illustration of  ladies on the ice in the latest designs for patineuses – Flyspring No 3 will be interested in that), a drummer in another, a display about aid for countries in need, with a group of young people acting out a mini-drama.  In the Cathedral square, a man on a stool playing an antique instrument, and singing baroque music, in a voice with the most fantastic range.  When first heard, I thought he was a counter-tenor, but then he moved register completely into a tenor range.  Then back again. It was eerie, and wonderful.

Quite a lot of young people ride unicycles, and a group of them were putting on a show in Kleber Square, just for fun – no hat out for money.   They are very efficient means of transport really, easy to pick up with one hand and get on the tram or train.  With backpacks to carry their gear, they seem to work very well. 

Of course fly could not pass the big shops without a peek.  I had been reading in the Oz news of poor what’s-his-name who is CEO of Myer having his salary cut to $1.8m, and thinking of how sparsely staffed the Myer shops are these days.  Not so here.  The floors of Lafayette are teeming with sleek black-clad assistants.  They don’t actually do much, there is not enough for all of them to do, from what I can see.  But once you look like you have made a choice, one of them pounces on you, and escorts you to the ‘caisse’ – paying counter, of which there are only one or two on a floor.  You pay, the escort puts your purchase in a bag, and that is that.  It occurred to me later that maybe they are paid commission on the sales they bring to the caisse, and maybe they also rely on tips?  

Later in the afternoon, I found myself in a position to acquire several years’ worth of my quota of passive smoking in a brief half hour.  Smoking here is of course much more present than at home now, and not banned from eating places. I took a seat at an outdoor restaurant, to have a glass of white and watch the passing parade. There were groups of men out for their Saturday afternoon meet and greet, smoking cigars.  I actually like the smell of cigars, and pipes too, but beyond a certain density in the atmosphere, even that attraction fades.  There were clouds of smoke, not mist, hanging over the restaurant’s outdoor clientele. 

Wandering back towards the station, fly heard marching music and spotted police on bicycles (looking really cute too!).  They were heading up (no, I should say escorting) a parade of LGBT people with brass instruments, banners and rainbow clothing, dancing their way through the streets.  They headed for the Cathedral Square, where they danced and talked for quite a while.  Don’t know if this was a demonstration against something (perhaps the Cardinal has a way with words when speaking to and of gay people similar to a notable example at home?) or maybe simply a statement of presence.  There were quite a number of dogs in the parade too – can dogs be gay?

And finally, before catching the train, I succumbed to the current fever and bought some pumpkins.  One of the flower stalls had all the little varieties for 1 euro each.  So I too have a display - in a bowl on my coffee table. 

(Pics are in folder Strasbourg 3)

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness ...

The Autumn mists have come.  Fly wakes up in a cloud, it curls into the bedroom, - I cannot stand sleeping without a window open.  (I might have to get over that too).  Visibility is so reduced that the hillside behind the houses opposite cannot be seen.  I had forgotten about this aspect of Autumn – I suppose I have never really known it from personal experience.  But the poem came to mind, and I remembered the first two lines, - Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness/Close bosom friend of the maturing sun.  Then I could not remember who wrote it – one of those Romantics – Browning perhaps, Keats, …?  (Canberra relative will be ashamed of the Fly).  The Google Muse came to my aid – it was Keats.  Browning wrote the Spring one – Oh to be in England, now that April’s there….  And Hopkins covered Spring too, much to Canberra relative’s delight I’m sure.

The  mists stay until mid-afternoon.  The sun breaks through, a brief hour or two of brilliant blue sky, and then the mist steals back.  Yesterday, coming back home in the train from Strasbourg, I watched it slowly roll down the Vosges like a theatre curtain gently falling, then creep across the now almost bare vineyards, and finally shroud the dairy cows in fields near the line.  A surreal show, from a moving train.  I worry about the cows – I cannot see that there are barns for them to winter in, as at Kitzbuhel.  I shall be keeping an eye on them as it gets colder.

Alsatian bits and pieces

Dogs

I have always thought of Alsatian dogs as German.  But they are Alsatian. There are three in my street, all at the same property.  One has finally stopped barking, just gazes in a manner that could be interpreted as slightly friendly.  The other two are still barking, but wag their tails at the same time.  They are behind a very serious gate, for which I am grateful.  I may get to the stage of putting out a hand in friendship before I leave here.  But only if they all stop barking. 

Handicrafts

Beautiful handworked items for the home are the Alsatian signature product.  They are colourful, red predominating, and have an upbeat, cheery sort of character. Lots of cross-stitch, but also more intricately worked items in beautiful linens and voiles.  Often the swan, a symbol of Alsace, is featured, embroidered into the design.  Or children in traditional costumes, often with geese and carrying tarte flambee.  Hearts also, a favourite motif.  Houses have curtains made from fine linen with designs worked into them, and often ending with a point.  I am wondering if these are “summer window dressing” and heavier fabrics will replace them when it gets really cold.

There are many goods featuring the work of the artist/illustrator  Hansi  –postcards, placemats, wall hangings – he depicted the everyday events of traditional life, his people always in traditional clothing. There is a museum dedicated to his work in Riquewihr.

Traffic

Street signs defy logic as does all observed parking practice.  In truth,  in villages where streets are narrow and higgledy-piggledy, and buildings are right on the edges of them, with no footpaths, then no standard rules can be formulated and applied. It is just a matter of everyone taking care of everyone else, and one’s self too, of course.  Which is what happens.  

Food

Wine, cheese and bread, of course, but after that, Tarte Flambee  is the winner.  It is very like pizza really; served on a wooden board, it has a very thin bread base, with the edges always burned, and has a huge amount of cheese of various types on it, plus lots of onion and some bacon.  A dish to be shared – I could only get though about a third of mine. 

Flowers

Some villages have decided it is time, winter is coming, and have removed the flowers.  Also some householders –one man was up on a ladder today removing the containers of blossoms from his roof.  Perhaps he is preparing for the week of bad weather le meteo has promised.  But some villages are being stalwart and replacing their flowers.  In Obernai today, council workers were out and about (Monday is quiet, all the shops close, so it is a good chance to get things done) removing spent plants and replacing them with fresh ones in full bloom.  Keep the summer going as long as possible!

Pumpkins

Are everywhere.  On the steps of the sanctuary in the Cathedral in Strasbourg.  At the doorways of the Town Hall in Obernai.  Replacing flowers in the window boxes of village homes.  Even in the windows of the hairdresser in Rosheim.  I have yet to work out if this is all about Halloween or Harvest time.  If the latter, why the preponderance of pumpkins.  Why not more vines and grapes.  (maybe pumpkins last longer?).  Witches appearing also. I await 31^st October with interest. 

Army at railway stations

The forces of the law have not been seen often out and about.  Most villages have no police presence.  Police are a local thing, set up in places big enough to support them.  Law and order in the broader sense is maintained by the gendarmerie, which is actually a branch of the army.  The branch of the army that actually does army things is the militaire. 

I was surprised on Sunday to find that the Railway station at Strasbourg was being patrolled by the last mentioned – real soldiers, in full gear, sporting automatic weapons (well, they looked like automatics to me).  And then the Strasbourg police went through every carriage before the train left the station.  Wonder what was going on.  

Roads

Once off the autoroutes, which are wonderful to get somewhere quickly, but not scenic really, and heavily populated by big trucks, roads seem to be a series of roundabouts, with a few hundred metres of connecting tarmac in between. The Voice says “Enter roundabout, take the third exit, drive 600 metres, and enter roundabout……”.  Sometimes there is excitement for the fly when the voice says “Drive 3 kilometres and then enter roundabout….  Great, get into top gear for a change. There are hundreds of villages, but they are often only a couple of kilometres apart.  A benefit of our distances at home is that at least, after negotiating one populated area, the driver can sit back and enjoy at least one CD before having to tackle the next one.

School

School starts at 8.30am.  The fly is still in bed, as it is not really quite light by then.  But I hear the kids going doing the road – the school is just three doors away from here.  They  break again at 11.30, when they all come home for lunch.  And the shops close too of course.  School resumes at 1.30, and goes through until 4.00.  At 5.5 hours, it is a slightly longer time in class than our schools have – 5 hours.  But the schools close for the 2 hour break in the middle, there is no option for the kids to stay there and eat their lunch and play.  As with the Kitzbuhel situation, (7.30 am to 1.00pm and then home)  I had wondered about how working mothers cope with this.  In Kitzbuhel, the answer was simple. Mothers don’t work.  Here, you see mothers at the school to meet the kids at 11.30 and then bringing them back at 1.30.  But some mothers do have jobs, and from a TV program about mothering in France I learned that what they do is pay another woman in the community – perhaps an older retired person – to meet the kids, bring them to her home,  give them a meal, and take them back again.  This happens even for kindergartens.  I remember being in the same situation, though not because of a long lunch break.  Kindy finished and 2.30, and I paid another Kindy mother to pick up mine with hers, and drop mine back at their day-care mother.  There are a lot of logistics to manage when both parents are working.

Tuesday 18th October - un coup de cheveux

A day of functional activities.  The great achievement was – a haircut!  This was a nerve-wracking undertaking.  It is difficult enough at home, where the hairdressers speak English, to get them to do what I want and not what they think I should have.  (Fortunately, I have of recent times, found one who is just wonderful.  I made his last cut last as long as possible – 10 weeks, but it had just got too scrappy).  I adopted my approach of explaining at the beginning that I was a visitor who spoke little French.  The woman was very friendly (they are either very friendly, or very abrupt I am finding), gave me an appointment to come back after the 2 hour lunch break.  

I managed to buy some boots for the winter in that time.  Last time I had boots was in England in the 70s.  These are quite smart, with a low heel, but the heels have pneumatic implants.  Don’t laugh now.  It means that the impact of walking is reduced by 50%.  I am sure it is a good thing.  They think so, as it has been patented, the shop assistant assured me.

Also found a recycle shop and bought, for 30 euroes, a long parka type coat.  I look like a puffed up penguin in it, especially with the white hair showing at the top,  but it is what everyone has here, and it keeps one warm.  (Maximum temperatures  of  -5 are a cause for concern, surely)

Back to the hairdresser, and I was the star turn for the afternoon.  The other clients all listened in to the wobbly conversation between me and my hairdresser, gave advice to both of us and laughed uproariously at my attempts to describe what I wanted, and then respond to their conversational overtures.   We all had a very pleasant hour, and I ended up with quite a good haircut, at much cheaper than Brisbane prices.