Nena

Nena on the cover
of Blitz magazine

Brava to Nena, still going strong after all these years. This is the current issue of Blitz magazine,  picked up at the friendly Italia restaurant.

Nena is, I think, the only German singer who hit the top of the pops chart in America. We all know her song 99 Luftballons.

Rienzi at the Frauenkirche

In Dresden's Frauenkirche, listening to the Overture from Wagner's Reinzi, then mezzo-soprano Waltroud Meier singing Straus' Four Last Songs, I wonder, ' have I have died and gone to heaven?'

But no, I am alive and fulfilling a long held dream: to visit the Frauenkirche in Dresden and hear a concert. That is should include something written by Wagner then songs sung by Waltraud Meier is the unbelievable dream. 

The music (which I heard last night after a train trip from Hamburg) put me on such a 'high' that I was still spinning and sleepless at 2am.

Waltraud Meier and festival orchestra take a bow.

I was on level two, high above the performers (there is also a level 3) but the acoustics were wonderful and I heard every word. The Rienzi overture was fabulous and made me want to return for a Wagner binge.

 The Frauenkirche was destroyed during the second world war and rebuilt between 1994 and 2005.  During the intermission a local audience member told me he had studied in Dresden and had always hoped the pile of rubble in the city center where the Frauenkirche once was might one day be rebuilt. He said that when they did restart building they laid all the stones out in the city square, hoping to reuse them with use of a computer.  The German building rules, however, require that stones which have been subject to fire be tested for stability and when these stones were tested many of them, being sandstone, were found to be unstable. Those that are original are dark, the new stones are light coloured. The building is overwhelmingly light coloured. 

After the concert: Frauenkirche at night

Travelling with the Syrians

I had not expected to be travelling with the Syrians yesterday, but life sometimes delivers the unexpected.

Earlier in the week railway staff in Maribor told me it was difficult to predict whether there would be delays getting from Maribor to Munich via Salzburg but to give it a go. However when I got to Graz yesterday I learnt that the border between Salzburg and Rosenheim was completely closed and no trains were travelling that way.

'"Go to Salzburg anyway and from there you can catch the connection to Innsbruck, but you'll have to be quick," said a young conductor.
"And where would I go to from Innsbruck?"
"I don't know the connections but it takes three hours to get to Innsbruck."
I did a quick calculation and realised my seven hour trip might turn to fourteen hours or that I might be spending another night in Austria ... or perhaps longer? How does one get over a closed border actually?

An elderly conductor had heard my question and as I climbed onto the train I saw him discussing animatedly with his colleague, so when he was free I leaned out the train door and asked if there was an alternative.
" Yes via train, bus and train," he said. "I'll come and tell you."
He climbed into the carriage next door, the doors snapped shut and we were off, but he was as good as his word and came through to explain.

He said I would probably miss the Innsbruck connection anyway if we were a couple of minutes late and my best bet was to get off the Salzburg train at Selzthal, take the railway bus to Kirchdorf as there was track work today, then a regional train to Linz where I could catch an ICE (Intercity Express) to Passau which is in Germany. From there I could find my way south again to Munich.

Leaving Kirchdorf on the bus

I have much to thank that gentleman for,  as I took his advice and made the ICE without a hitch. On the way I saw a good deal of picturesque countryside (and the inside of tunnels) as we wound our way through the back alleys of Austria.

The ICE from Linz was packed. In the corridor just ahead of my seat a young English woman and her husband were caring for their baby among those standing but ten minutes into our journey a young  man in the seat behind me stood up and offered her his seat.
" Yes please, I insist," he said."Sit next to my wife and son"

The Englishwoman sat down gratefully and the two mothers chatted as their babies ( both 18 months old) kept each other entertained.  People around them were charmed by the two children and we couldn't help overhearing the conversation between the the two women. The English woman and her Austrian husband were taking a weekend away to celebrate her birthday. The other young woman said that she was from Syria and travelling with her husband and son to Germany. The English woman asked if she had travelled long and the Syrian said yes, first by boat then lots of trains. It had been exhausting and once in Europe her son slept through two whole days.  (I could see the young man yawning as he stood in the corridor, so he was tired as well.)
"Where do you want to go in Europe?" asked the Englishwoman.
"Anywhere safe," was the reply.

I sneaked a peek at the women behind me. They were both lovely, one blond and one dark both holding their almost identical babies who were sharing pieces of the Syrian child's apple.  Then I looked around me and realised there were other Syrians in the seats nearby. Perhaps they were travelling as a group.

So these were the refugees we all had heard about. The young woman spoke excellent English, as did her husband who had given up his seat. I had thought he might be English himself before overhearing the women's stories.

The English woman got her husband to bring a baby book from the luggage which she gave the Syrian mum. She expressed in this gesture what those listening would like to have done. We all smiled at each other.

The Englishwoman told the Syrian not to be worried about all the police who would be in Passau, that they were there to help and often had translators with them.

There were indeed lots on black clad police in Passau but they were chatting and relaxed and very non-threatening despite their uniforms.  I couldn't help comparing them to the thuggish 'border force' officers travellers have to deal with going through Sydney airport. A group of Australians in Maribor had shared their airport 'border force' stories one evening and every single one had had an unpleasant experience with them.  I felt so proud of Germany (and so ashamed of Australia) on that train. These people would warm the hearts of any observer.

I left the train at Passau and took a regional train back south. All the train staff on both sides of the border were very understanding about me travelling on trains for which I had no ticket. On the Passau train no one inspected tickets at all.

Rainbow in Bavaria

As my final regional train chugged its way to Munich it rained as the sun was shining, then out the window we saw a brilliant rainbow.

I took the rainbow as a good omen for those refugees and I think it must have been because this morning on the news I heard a local politician say that yes, all the refugees would change Germany, but it would be a change for the better. Go Germany!

Journalist whistleblower

The respected journalist  Dr Udo Ulfkotte, a former editor of one of Germany’s main daily publications, Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, has written a book accusing the media of being 'bought'. He gives some examples in the interview in English (below) from German media coverage of the Russian/Ukrainian issue.  (His interview in German is much more detailed and gives many more examples. See it here)

Dr Ulfkotte details exactly how journalists are corrupted into telling lies. He has long been under pressure not to reveal these secrets, but has finally had enough. He wants to save his country from another war.

"I don't care what happens to me", he says, "I have had two heart attacks and I don't have children. And I am sick of the lies."

Brave man.

What he says about media-bias makes sense to me because a German friend told me in September that she just didn't understand the current media bias against Russia.

"Germans and Russians understand each other because we are so similar," she said. "We both carry the worries of the world on our shoulders. We cry easily and tend to be maudlin. But the press is acting as if  the Russians are completely different from us."

If you listen to the video below you will see why the media does not reflect reality.  You can also see why people have drifted away from the mainstream media. If what they are reading does not accord with their own experience, then they will look elsewhere for their information.

The issue of media bias against Russia is pertinent in Australia today, with our Prime Minister Tony Abbott one of the first to blame the Russians for shooting down MH17. Later he said he would 'shirtfront' Mr Putin when he sees him at the G20 meeting. In Beijing this week told the Russians they should apologise and offer compensation. What information is he basing his actions on I wonder.

Near the Lorelei

Weisel: with slate walls and a sun-shine tree. (View up Altpforter Stree)t

History marks people, even centuries later.

Our last stop in Europe was in Weisel, a small village 5 km from the Lorelei on the Rhine River. There is a slate pit in the gorge leading to the Rhine and many of the houses in Weisel have slate walls as well as roofs.  It is a neat and tidy place. The few shops hidden away in houses just have a small sign indicating that there is a bank, a hairdressing salon or a shop within. Last time I was here the bank was housed in a cow stall; now it has a more salubrious setting on the town square. All the houses are inhabited, but you would never know if you just walked through.

We were at the end of a history tour of Germany, a history of invasions and battles, often battles fought between invading armies on German soil. The old Germans fought the Romans here and the Swedes swept through as they fought Napolean, finally sending the Napoleonic army packing. My friend in Weisel tells me history that has marked the local community and that it is no wonder people barricade themselves in their homes and are wary of strangers.

If you are in the area Weisel is worth a visit - especially as there is a good restaurant hidden away here.  It is called Hannots and is housed in a quaint old building in Altpforter Street (picture) one of the main streets in the village. Hannots  is as welcoming as anyone could wish. The cook knows his trade and attracts people from surrounding areas. It makes a nice change from tourist restaurants on the Rhine. If you do visit, make sure you go upstairs to view the paintings of the Weisel and the Kauber Platte which hang on the upper floor.

Transported dough & second rate pastries

Salt and pepper shakers at Mirabelle Cafe

How lucky we were to stumble upon the Cafe Mirabelle in Carterton (NZ). Yes, I mentioned the Mirabelle previously, but my visit there was such a memorable experience I can't help talking about them again.  I would visit Carterton again just to eat their delicious pastries, all of which are made in-house.

Increasingly we hear of dough that is made in one part of the world and shipped to another for baking and the results are a culinary disaster. I first noticed this in Germany where the delicious looking displays no longer tempt me. All their cakes now taste the same and all taste second rate. Now my sister tells me a New Zealand cafe owner proudly informed her that the dough for the pastries she was selling came from France 'so it was really authentic'. I asked her if the pastry had been good.
'No, not really,' said my sister.

Places like the Mirabelle in Carterton restore your faith in cooks and food. How long will it take for the population to revolt and seek out cafes where the food is home made?

One place that still sells delicious and authentic cakes is Slovenia. Perhaps having been part of the Soviet block for so long had some benefits and perhaps all the former Yugoslavia still has good food (my Yugoslav experience is limited to Slovenia). Lets hope they don't ever change. And long live the Mirabelle.

Making daisy chains

Small boy makes a daisy chain

Summer idyll. A small boy sits splay-legged on a lawn among flowers, threading daisies into a chain. He is a picture of concentration. The year is about 1976 and the boy is Philip, sitting on a lawn in the grounds of a southern German castle.

I made the shirt and trousers (where did I get the time?) but I suspect my mother, who was visiting Germany for the first time, put the leaf in his buttonhole.

Picture of concentration

Australia is expensive

It is nice to be back in a place that makes the strong bitter coffee that I prefer but I gulped when I had to pay nearly eight dollars for a coffee and friand at my local coffee shop yesterday. I had become used to the much lower European prices.

Coffee and Cake in a Hamburg Cafe

Cigarettes

After living in a country where cigarettes must be kept under the counter it is a bit of a shock to find baskets of cigarette packages placed right next to the checkout in Hamburg Aldi stores

Aldi checkout with cigarettes

Friends tell me that a lot of people have stopped smoking here but you wouldn't know it by looking at the outdoor cafes.

Smoker at an inner city Cafe in Hamburg

Wikipedia says 26% of Germans smoke. In most other European countries over 30% of the population smokes (in Greece 43%) so perhaps the peak has passed.  The lists of side effects is long (and includes erectile dysfunction) which makes you wonder how many brown paper bags are passed from cigarette companies to law makers. Those lists of side effects  (the link is to the German Wiki site has more info than the English version ) make me pleased I have a weakness for chocolate not cigarettes.

Tide turning for smokers

Germans are, as a nation, very concerned about health so it is surprising that so many of them smoke. Things seem to be changing though, judging by railway station etiquette. Areas for smokers on train platforms are now marked with thick yellow lines and on the stations I visited, smokers were using them.

Platform at Munich Ostbahnhof

On Austrian railway stations passive smoking is the norm as smokers still spread themselves right along the platform and it is impossible to find an unpolluted spot. . There were no smokers in the Graz station hall, but almost every patron at the Lavazza coffee shop in the station building was smoking so I bought a takeaway and sat outside the shop to drink it.
The Polish woman at breakfast told me that in Poland smoking in enclosed spaces and on station platforms is forbidden and that not so many young people smoke.

The new Slovenia

“When the wall fell we poured millions and millions into East Germany," The German woman in my hostel commented. "Here the people did it by themselves, and look what they have created. This place is amazing and East Germany is still the place everyone wants to leave.

A Frankfurt landing

"... hat sich beschwert!"
"Echt? (Really?)"
These were the first words I heard in Germany, an overheard conversation between two women walking along the corridor from the Frankfurt airport to the railway station beneath it.
Sich beschweren has several meanings, among them to attach blame or to complain about something.

How very German, I thought to myself. But it was thought with a smile as I love being in Germany. It had taken me only 20 minutes to get through all the airport formalities despite long queues.