Fairy Tales and Palaces

Chris and I have been reading a new Oxford translation of eighty-two of Grimms' Tales. These old folktales predate the professor brothers, not to mention Walt Disney. In them, beautiful poor girls are rescued by kind kings and wickedness is always punished. Although it seems that Disney just recirculated these stories with happy endings, I've noticed some differences. There are the trivial storyline discrepancies; in the Grimm version, the seven dwarfs maintain a spotless home before Snow White's arrival! Broader historical norms stand out as well. There is nothing about finding true love in the German tales. Instead, I would describe the heroine's climactic marriage as a means of fleeing an evil stepmother's tyranny or curse and starting a comfortable, reasonable life, away from all that magic.

After living in Europe, another thing now becomes clear: royal residences once dotted this landscape like water towers in the Midwest. In America, imagining the prince riding by on his horse or the palace glimmering on a hilltop seems overly romantic and far-fetched. Here, practically every village had its prominent, horse-riding, sparkling royalty nearby, and it was quite reasonable to imagine catching the young prince's eye. Or, at least, the imagining could be forgiven.

One palace surviving near us is the pink Schloss Benrath. This was our local adventure last weekend.

This was a summer palace, set in the wilderness in order to hunt. Hippie themes like the four seasons and the four elements dominate the motifs.

It's not that especially significant of a palace: a scene is set here in one of Thomas Mann's works; Gorbachev and Queen Elizabeth II have been guests here; Napoleon stayed here during his conquest of this area; it was built by a famous Bavarian duke in the Wittelsbach line, who also established the Englischer Garten in Munich. The palace now houses three museums, each with a separate admission ticket. Shameless. We're saving those for a rainy day; the gardens were free and the sun was shining.


The gardens stretched out behind the palace. After rambling through a wilderness formerly providing a habitat to game, we strolled through a lovely double ring of perfectly arranged trees. How peaceful to stay awhile in architecturally transformed Nature!

We were enchanted by cozy planted beds with flowers, herbs, and organic vegetables for purchase.



Although we've visited a handful palaces, this was the first time that we've had the leisure to pack a picnic. Here's Daisy on maybe her 7th apricot. That girl and her summer fruit...
Nothing says "summer in Germany" like having a picnic at a palace.

Well, now I'm off to start Hansel and Gretel - perhaps my next post will be about candy. Or sweet children. Or both.

On Being a Local Tourist

Precisely a year and a half ago, we would have scorned the concept of exploring the Ruhr area. "Why spend money here when we can save it for a trip to xyz," Chris would have sniffed. "I looove factories," I would have joked. Almost miraculously, our attitude has changed. Although the art museums, musical ensembles, athletic teams, and architecture here are not world-famous, we've settled into the role of being a local tourist.

Perhaps one reason for this switch is the availability of Ruhr guidebooks due to the designation of the Ruhrgebiet (Ruhr area) as a European Cultural Capital this year. Tempted by the notion that other people are actually traveling here on their holidays, I purchased a book and can now easily forage for local adventures. There's also my personality to consider: I like getting out and about on the weekends, using the perks of our public transit card. If you think about it, we are really getting a taste of Europe that most tourists try hard to see: it's - ahem - "off the beaten track." Considering our home-bound status these next few months as Chris prepares his professorial research proposals, it makes sense that we'd start seriously seeking local joy. More likely, though, the reason that we are now embracing life here is simply a matter of timing. After a year, a new place actually starts to feel like home. I have personally proved this rule of thumb three times now in my moves from California to Illinois to Wisconsin and now to Germany.

Whatever the reason may be, we spent some money locally instead of saving it for Prague and planned a day trip, avoiding old factories, incidentally. We began by floating for an hour down the Ruhr river from Mülheim to Kettwig on the "White Fleet," or Weiße Flotte.

Like always, I felt immediately rewarded for taking those heavy steps out of the house on an early Saturday morning.

We saw plenty of geese and swans, campers and paddlers, and dogs and cows to entertain Daisy along the way.


We had heard of the medieval village of Kettwig the day we got here, but it took us this long to make the journey.

We trotted over the cobbles and paused to photograph the half-timbered homes and ornate doors.

This man with a lantern is a symbol of the town, hovering over the steep steps up to the church.

After lunch and cakes, we took a train to Villa Hugel.

This mansion was home to the Krupp family, a 400-year-old steel manufacturing dynasty. Their steel company was the largest company in Europe at the beginning of the 20th century. They, not surprisingly, bowed to Hitler and basically enslaved conscripted workers from occupied countries at the end of the war. At the Nürnberg war crimes trials, the owners were convicted but ultimately came back to run the company, though they realized that they could no longer enjoy this mansion and thus they donated it to the public.

The library stretched on for the whole length of the villa. It was fascinating to see the mix of history and war, religion, and literature, all in different languages.

In the heart of the city of Essen, the Flying Grass Carpet has landed! Here's a shot of Daisy standing on it after it flew here from Hungary. Next stop: Istanbul!
We really believe in this lifestyle of happily getting out and exploring things around home. Here's hoping that our next home offers something enriching and different - ideally without factories.

My friend, Anne

Wednesday, February 23, 1944

"The weather's been wonderful since yesterday, and I've perked up quite a bit. My writing, the best thing I have, is coming along well. I go to the attic almost every morning to get the stale air out of my lungs...But [this morning] I also looked out of the open window, letting my eyes roam over a large part of Amsterdam, over the rooftops and on to the horizon, a strip of blue so pale it was almost invisible.

'As long as this exists,' I thought, 'this sunshine and this cloudless sky, and as long as I can enjoy it, how can I be sad?'

The best remedy for those who are frightened, lonely or unhappy is to go outside, somewhere they can be alone, alone with the sky, nature and God. For then and only then can you feel that everything is as it should be and that God wants people to be happy amid nature's beauty and simplicity.

As long as this exists, and that should be for ever, I know that there will be solace for every sorrow, whatever the circumstances. I firmly believe that nature can bring comfort to all who suffer."

-Anne Frank

This was written after a year and a half in hiding when Anne was 14 years old. On August 4, 1944, Anne and her family were arrested, and Anne died in Bergen-Belsen that winter.

I became so completely enamored with young Anne that she seems like a friend months after I finished her diary. It is filled with such poignant reflections about life and family, but also small details about the war from her perspective. For instance, she describes "packing" for hiding:

"The four of us were wrapped in so many layers of clothes it looked as if we were going off to spend the night in a refrigerator, and all that just so we could take more clothes with us. No Jew in our situation would dare leave the house with a suitcase full of clothes. I was wearing two vests, three pairs of pants, a dress, and over that a skirt, a jacket, a raincoat, two pairs of stockings, heavy shoes, a cap, a scarf and lots more. I was suffocating even before we left the house, but no one bothered to ask me how I felt."

This classic 13-year-old intense self awareness, wonderfully written and sealed with an indignant jab, makes Anne Frank's diary not just educational but alive. She had dreams of becoming a writer when she was older; she would have been marvelous. I am so thankful that her diary was preserved so that I could meet her. She is an inspiration to me.

Düsseldorf

A 25-minute train ride away, this city is our closest "hub:" home to our local airport, my weekly "mums group," and our favorite place to visit new parks, shop for non-Ruhrgebiet fashion, and grab some ice cream. Although it's no Paris or London, we've come to appreciate Düsseldorf and I've realized that I owe it a post.

Düsseldorf consistently ranks in Mercer's top 10 world cities ranked on quality of life, joining such biggies as Vienna, Zurich, Vancouver and Auckland, and definitely ousting both Paris and London. My own theory is that high-ranking "quality of life" indicates that there's extensive public transportation, clean and safe streets, good schools, general happiness, and plenty of artistic offerings.

The only thing I knew about Düsseldorf before visiting was its famous spicy mustard in traditional pots. Löwensenf and ABB are the two brands to know (I'll bring some home for Christmas, Dad). People bring in emptied pots for refills, it's that serious.

None other than Vincent Van Gogh immortalized an ABB pot in a still life:

German cities specialize in a given beer, actually banning other cities from producing it. For example, Bamberg makes a smoky Rauchbier, Köln makes a light Kölsch, and even Mülheim makes Mölmsch. Düsseldorf's popular variety is called Altbier, a relation to the British ale, but sold in tinier glasses. Because people generally go through a number of these throughout the course of their meals, servers swipe penciled tallies onto coasters. This was our official bill at Uerige, a classic pre-WWI establishment in the Old Town:

The daily (which of course means every day except for Sunday) Karlplatz outdoor market is always bursting with...everything. Blooms, wooden crafts, specialty spices, homemade pastas, fresh produce, honey from Provence and oil from Italy. I always want it all. For example, all these roses:

With its roots in the romantic Düsseldorf school of painting in the mid-1800's and expressionists like Max Ernst and Otto Dix in the mid-1900's, Düsseldorf continues to lean forward with its art and houses many modern art museums.

The city also commissioned Californian Frank Gehry to design these three office buildings in the media harbor (1999). Reflections of the red and white buildings as well as the changing sky play across the silver surfaces. I love this trio, and I'm excited to see more Gehry in Prague in a couple of months.

This fine city hall and cobbled square lie near the Rhine.

Back in December, the square looked a little different:
In general, it's just a nice place to stroll along the promenade...

...listen to street musicians (these kids were on fire! Future Hanson!)...

...look at the Rhine...

...and enjoy an ice cream cone on a summer's night.

Slide show: "Home"

I feel very sheepish posting this since I realize how conceited it can seem, but I know that some of my relatives will like it, so here it is. When I recently heard the song "Home," by Edward Sharpe & the Magnetic Zeros, my mind tore through a mental flip book of my little family's journeys around Europe together. Since I have some creative time on my hands these days while Chris is working and Daisy is sleeping like a little angel, I got to try my hand at reproducing the truth that wherever we are together, that's home. I am holding this belief as a promise as we face another new transition to an unknown home next year. I hope you enjoy this sprint through our last year and a half!

Mallorca

While Chris was at a chemistry conference in Maine (in June! I'm so behind), Daisy and I went on a little vacation to Mallorca. In case Mallorca does not immediately ring a bell, I've included a map showing the Mediterranean island, shown by its capital, Palma de Mallorca. There's a seven hour ferry to Barcelona, just to give an idea of distance.

Mallorca belongs to Spain, but in Germany it is known as the "17th German state" because of the vast number of Germans who live and vacation there. When I told neighbors that I was going to visit, they sighed, "Oh, Malla," pronouncing the L's in the affectionate nickname. I purposefully stayed in a predominantly German area (there is also a sizable British colony elsewhere on the island), where menus, signage, and greetings were all in German. Sangria was still served in the biergartens, though! It was wildly mixed up.

After I booked our plane tickets, I learned of some famous people from Mallorca. Rafa Nadal, the tennis star, grew up here and still lives in a mansion on the northeastern side of the island. Father Junipero Serra grew up, taught philosophy, and got his doctorate in theology here in the mid-1700's. I first learned of Father Serra when I visited his missions that dot the California coast. I also distinctly remember that my first school report that needed to be typed on a computer was about Father Serra. My dad brought home the computer from work that night so that I could type (painstakingly, with my little pointers).

My main objective in traveling with Daisy was to get some warm beachy time where both of us could play. Although our trip to the French Riviera and Cinque Terre last summer definitely topped this, the beach itself on Mallorca was better than either of those coasts. Fine white sand and a huge expanse of warm, shallow swimming water...







The city of Palma was surprisingly big, with shopping avenues, bustling plazas, and a huge Gothic cathedral.

Gaudi left his mark in this city. His designs are so refreshingly whimsical.

"La Seu" was built on the grounds of an Arab mosque. It ranks among Europe's largest cathedrals and lies very near the sea, which you can barely see in the background here:

The cathedral is architecturally significant because it has the narrowest pillars supporting the nave's vaults anywhere in the world. Also, Gaudi was invited in 1901 to add some artistic elements like this fantastic canopy:

More recently, this chapel of the cathedral was built by a local architect. It was kind of creepy to feel like I was in an underwater cave, but really fun to see some daring art in a church.

One day, we took a slow wooden train dating from 1912 into the mountains.

It felt like California: blue mountains, citrus trees, and red-tiled roofs. We had some fresh-squeezed orange juice in Soller and then took the train back. Because all we really wanted to do was....

...play at the beach!