Winter in Nürnberg

Winter (pronounced Vinter with a violent V) starts (at least for me) when you swap your Summer tyres with your Winter tyres.  The law says that you have to have your Winter tyres on when the first snow starts to fall. Most Germans will schedule a date during the month October for their wheel change. Snow usually starts in November so naturally I run the gauntlet of the law, and slip slide into my local service center the first day there’s snow in the air. Ironically, it’s really difficult to get an appointment in October when you’re supposed to have it done and really easy to get an appointment when it actually needs doing but is borderline ilegal.

The Chriskindlesmarkt in Nürnberg is famous around the globe. It’s festive and crowded and has lights so bright you’ll be lucky to escape without retinal damage. As you hug your glühwein close to your chest and squeeze your way through the crowd it’s the smells that are impressive. Gingerbread, roasting nuts, sausages, fruity things. It’s the smell of christmas from your childhood… even if you grew up in a place where the smell of christmas was the chlorinated water of the pool on a 43 degree day.

www.christkindlesmarkt.de/en/christmas-market/welcome-to-the-nuremberg-christkindlesmarkt-1.2371262

The feuerzangenbowle hut (on the river behind Starbucks) is a great place to escape the tourist crowds and enjoy the local crowds. If you’re in need of some warmth, ask for a glühwein mit schuss. The schuss is a shot of something like rum or amaretto. That’ll warm your cockles. Have two and your cockles will go numb which is not necessarily a bad thing.

Another place to escape the tourists is at a bar that overlooks the hauptmarkt. You can still experience the smells and the blinding lights without the crush of American and Russian tourist bodies. We quite like Bar Alex.

www.dein-alex.de/dein-alex-nuernberg

That’s pretty much it for the Winter. Once Christmas and new years are over you are supposed to resign yourself to 4 months of depression.

One comforting thing is that as of the 21st December (Winter solstice), the days start getting longer so even though it’s sub zero, you can enjoy that sub zero for more hours.

At approximately Easter time your Winter tyres can come off thus heralding the beginning of Summer and all the fun that that entails.

https://vosdog.wordpress.com/2014/08/13/summer-in-nuernberg

 

The ubiquitous and obligatory haftpflichtversicherung

I skydived for 10 years in 5 different countries. I commuted to uni in Sydney on a motorbike for 3 years. I regularly try to hit 200kph while driving home from work. I’ve been to a Franconian hairdresser. I’m a risk taker. On a normal curve of risk averse to risk taker, I would sit about 3 standard deviations above normal on the risk taker end of the curve… and being a risk taker probably has something to do with why I’m a great proponent of being self insured. The theory is that you save the money you would normally give to an insurance company to offset the future potential loss. (The reality, of course, might be that you intend to save that money and instead blow it on a fun holiday to Morocco.)  

I have heard so many stories from friends who thought they were fully insured only to discover a massive excess or that the insurance didn’t cover that particular item or that an earthquake/flood/bolt of lightning didn’t constitute an act of God. Even if by some miracle, you are actually fully covered it always give me pause to think that insurance companies are a business and always come out on top in the end. Their insurance premiums, like the games at the casino, are not going to be weighted in your favour. Unless you are a very disaster-prone person, you will probably always pay more than you receive.

There are some insurances you can’t avoid. Health insurance in Germany is one of those. Third party car insurance makes sense and is compulsory. Other insurances are irksome. House insurance: Don’t buy/build a house in a flood/fire/earthquake-prone areas. Contents insurance: let it burn. It’s only stuff. The most precious stuff is irreplaceable anyway. Landlords insurance: choose good tenants. Pet insurance, life insurance, travel insurance. There’s even reinsurance which is insurance for the insurance companies. Wiki lists over 80 different types of insurance. Crazy.

One of the more interesting insurances I heard about was when “The Rapture” was about to happen. After false starts in 1844, 1914, 1981, 1992, and 1994 May 21st 2001 was predicted to be THE DATE. Jesus Christ was supposed to come to Earth again or Christians were to levitate their way to heaven or something VERY SIGNIFICANT was supposed to happen…and animals weren’t invited. Some (presumably) disbelievers developed an insurance/business idea out of this. “You love your pets but they can’t come to heaven with you…” (because God hates stinky, lying, cheating animals) “…so pay us a small fee and we’ll look after them once you’ve vanished from our mortal planet.” (Of course the small print says that it’s non-refundable if the rapture doesn’t actually happen.) The website below is a good laugh but google for others. Good search words would be gullible, blinded by christianity and don’t forget to check the hashtag #religionmakespeoplestupid.

http://www.aftertherapturepetcare.com

I had been in Germany for a couple of years and had heard about the importance of the haftpflichtversicherung (personal insurance) from a number of people. When they hear that you’re an auslander they feel it’s their duty to hype it. “My grandmother’s sister once removed had an incident with her neighbour’s cat…” When they discover that you haven’t obtained it the instant you stepped on German soil they are absolutely horrified. They try to gather you up in their arms and escort you to the nearest insurance office instantly.

Their insistence and decibel level increased the more I emphasised that I wasn’t intending to drop a pot plant on somebody’s head anytime soon… and that I wasn’t intending on taking out haftpflichtversicherung (or haftpflicht for short) but eventually the nagging got too much. Earlier this year I gave in and got the damn insurance. Don’t get me wrong. 50 euro a year is a drop in the bucket especially compared to the 200+ euro we pay for our TV licence (an obnoxious blog about THAT little topic will follow soon) but I fundamentally object to paying small amounts of money to a company that might deign to support you in the event you need large amounts of money but in all likelihood will try to wiggle their way out.

There is a mildly interesting side story about haftpflicht. Our friend Miss R had an “antique” table. Miss R had a party (Can you see where this is going?). Miss MMM leaned her hip against aforementioned table in conversation (as one does). The table broke. Despite the fact that the table had had a previous (amature) repair, Miss R claimed against Miss MMM’s haftpflichtversicherung. What?! Did somebody say fraud?

As mentioned, I eventually I succumbed to the haftpflichtversicherung. It was a very easy process. It was cheap. Have I ever had to use it. No. Will I ever have to use it? Hopefully not. Does it bring me peace of mind? No…but it does keep the risk-adverse Germans off my back.

Fitness in Franconia

I would like to venture that you’ve never really experienced a fitness class until you’ve experienced a German fitness class. Having someone instruct you in English is tiresome. German fitness instructors make you scared for your life.
http://imgur.com/gallery/pybW2
I can’t imagine that German yoga could possibly be relaxing. DOWNWARD FACING HUND. SCHNELL. SCHNELLER.

Last weekend, Miss A and I were at the gym to do the so-called “Hot Iron” class. (aka Body Pump). Normally we’re tutored by a sweaty little man who peppers his conversation with; “Okay?” (It’s a rhetorical “Okay?” He doesn’t want us to answer how we really feel. ie, weak, shaky and probably a little hungover.) On one Saturday, our sweaty little friend was replaced with an obnoxious Führerin who demanded our weights be just so, that our steps perpendicular, not parallel to the front wall and made it sonnig klar that there was definitely to be no horsing around. Miss A and I tested the horsing around rule. Our giggles were met with stern silence and she paused the class until we’d pulled ourselves together. #feltlikeafouryearold
http://www.fitnessfirst.de/clubs/nuernberg

Back in the good old days in Hobart, Miss B and I would often go trotting up Mt Wellington and we would play the hello game to distract ourselves from our burning lungs. The points system went something like: 2 points for an un-prompted “Hello” (“Hi”, “G’day”, “Good morning”, “Yo” also acceptable.). 1 point for a “Hello” after prompting with a “Hello”, 0 points for the smile-and-nod. -1 for ignoring and – 2 for ignoring after prompting with a “Hello”. In Hobart we would regularly be hitting the double digits and a -2 was unheard of except maybe in the case where invisible headphones were in use.

While trotting around the parks of Nürnberg you are lucky to get your hello game score into the positive. You’re extremely unlikely to get a 2 pointer. These usually result from unwitting auslanders. -1s are the most common. Sometimes in an attempt to boost your points (or just to be polite) you offer a cheery “Guten morgen” or “Grüß Gott”. Normally this will score you 1 point but sometimes the other person will look at you as if you’re going to try to mug them and you’ll earn a -2 for your efforts. It can be entirely depressing.

Swimming is a great option for Winter aside from the fact that many Germans can’t swim. They are able to paddle about without drowning but it’s definitely not swimming. They often do a kind of slow upright swimming. If you sneak a look underwater, it looks like they’re riding a bike. They also have complete disrespect for the traffic rules of the pool. You often have to weave around little old ladies who are going across the pool rather than along the length. A splashy leg kick is usually sufficient to alert them to your presence and intended path…but sometimes you accidentally touch and occasionally you are touched. Ewwwwwww. 

In North East Nürnberg is a 25m indoor pool. Usually only 3 swimming lanes are assigned. There’s an outdoor hot pool. http://nuernbergbad.de/nordostbad/ausstattung-angebot
Röthelheimbad in Erlangen has a great 50m indoor pool with about 10 lanes dedicated to lapping but it’s crazy-busy after work. In Summer, the outdoor pool (also 50m) takes half of the traffic but it’s still crowded. http://www.schwimmbadcheck.de/erlangen/freibad-roethelheimbad.html
Königsbad in Forchheim has a 25m indoor pool with 2 lap lanes that are very often reserved for swim school so your only option is to swim in the open part, weaving around little old ladies and children jumping off the diving board. The outdoor pool is spectacular and often empty but it’s only open during Summer. There is a fabulous swim-out hot pool with massage jets. One of my favourite German pool moments was being out there alone, on a massage jet bed while it was snowing. So gorgeous. http://www.koenigsbad-forchheim.de

Cycling doesn’t really count as fitness for me because it’s just a mode of transport but it’s worth mentioning that you should pay attention to where you’re walking. If you are walking on the biking part of the path, be prepared to be ding-a-linged. Equally, if you spot a biker on the foot path, feel free to give a sharp, disapproving look in the manner of a lioness disciplining her wayward cub. Bike helmets are not compulsory. Being drunk on a bike will lose you your car licence. Talking on your phone while riding a bike will earn you a fine.

I’m off for a run…and when I say run, I mean beer. Prost!

The Bavarian people I

Like most European countries, Germany has a long and convoluted history. It begins with a multitude of Germanic tribes who occupied various patches of land in the center of Europe. After invasions, wars and power shifts, the mid-1600s saw the tribes of Germany combined and/or divided into independent states such as Bavaria, each headed by a king. In 1871, Bismarck gathered these states and lead the formation of the German Empire which was involved in WWI and as a consequence was forced to pay heavy repatriations. These large compulsory payments caused huge problems to Germany’s economy and in the early 30s the Great Depression hit Germany hard. During this difficult period, an upcoming charismatic young politician, Adolf Hitler, promised economic improvements. A series of inconclusive elections and pressure from several political and business personalities prompted the President of Germany to (reluctantly) appoint the Hilter as chancellor of Germany. WWII ensued. Germany (The East and West combined) as we know it today is only 23 years old, beginning in 1989 with the fall of the Berlin wall. History lesson over, now for the people.

I can’t generalise about the German people any more than I can generalise about my own family. People are not a perfect reflection of the culture they grew up in but in the spirit of fun there are some amusing clichés that I’ve witnessed and noted in the small percentage of Germans I’ve met and observed.

To start the day, you open your bomb/earthquake/flood/sound and light proof rollerblinds violently to alert your immediate neighbours that you’re awake. Any household members who are not awake will have their bedclothes stripped from underneath them in order to have them AIR in the SUN to get rid of indeterminate BUGS.

Breakfast is traditionally an astonishingly comprehensive mix of breads, cheeses, meats and conserves that covers the entire surface of the table. They have not heard of poached eggs, they have no Vegemite alternative and, despite the huge variety of pork products, you cannot buy decent bacon. I always try to pick up some juicy, thick cut stuff when I’m in the UK.

Recycling is particularly precious to the German psyche. There are separate bins for paper and cardboard, compostable waste, and glass (in 3 different colours). Metal and plastic have their own yellow bag (the gelbe sack) and should be thoroughly washed (because you need your rubbish to be hygienic). Everything else (which isn’t very much) goes into the rubbish. If you get it wrong, your neighbours will definitely let you know either in a passive-aggressive-resorting-your-rubbish kind of way or in a knock-on-your-door-dangling-the-offending-item kind of way. Ten auslander point accrue for every item wrongly sorted.

After the cleaning may come a trip to a sauna. Personally, I’ve never really understood why sweating in a small wooden box with strangers is fun. I especially think that sweating in a small wooden box with strangers while naked is not fun. It’s not being naked per say. There are lots of fun things to do naked but sweating in a small wooden box with strangers ain’t on that list. For a start, your sauna companions never resemble the models in the sauna ads. I’m not saying that I do but perhaps if I had a hernia THERE I’d keep it under wraps. As a medical person I’ve seen many weird things but in saunas I’ve seen anatomy that I’ve not even seen in medical textbooks. They seem to think nothing of bending ALL THE WAY over to pick up their towel. Did I mention that the saunas are not single sex? Also, there’s a high chance of a colleague walking in. What’s the etiquette there? How do you sit? What do you say? “Hi! Nice nipps. Is now a good time to ask for a raise?” “You know that new building we’re erecting…”

On the way from the sauna to the supermarket you may have to cross an intersection. It’s here where you can spot an auslander a mile away. If you are German, you will wait for the green man. No sane German will cross the road when a red man is showing. It’s just…not German. It might be 2am with not a car on the street and they will still wait patiently. Of course in the Aussie pedestrian culture you’d be considered an idiot to wait at an intersection if no cars were coming. Picture the cross-cultural clash of an Aussie crossing the road against the red man. They’d look back at the German questioning “I wonder what’s wrong with that bloke?” The German would probably be a little jealous but resolutely wait for the green man giving Aussie guy the dagger eyes. This little exchange happens hilariously often with the only change being if there are kids watching. Beware jay walking in front of children. You will be abused in streams of German from any adult who sees you and your auslander point total will jump substantially.

At the supermarket you will be assaulted by pork products. Chicken and beef are mere subjects of King Pig. [Weirdly, thought I, there is a surprising amount of turkey.] Once you have purchased your trolley-load of pig you will be required to wait in the check out queue. Waiting is obligatory. Staffing of the checkouts is designed so there is always one less operator than is needed. The queue could be 30 people strong and nobody would consider opening a second checkout. Germans shuffle and mutter about this but nobody speaks up. Once your item has been scanned it will be fired at you at a speed which breaks the sound barrier. You are expected to catch produce, pack your cloth bags, recover from the sonic boom and pay (cash is preferrable) simultaneously. Five auslander points will be added for each second of inefficiency.

On a Sunday you would be acutely aware that it’s God’s day. You would know that you shouldn’t make noise (vacuuming, drilling, lawn mowing) and would frown disapprovingly at auslanders who didn’t understand that washing your car or gardening is not what God would wish you to be doing on a Sunday. God assigns auslander points on Sundays.

[A little warning for new German employees. When filling in the reams of paperwork within your first few days in the country, do not declare your religion unless you want your particular church to automatically claim a percentage of your wage, including bonuses. With just one little tick of the catholic/protestant/lutheran box the government automatically deducts your pay and donates it to your church. No signatures, no small print to alert you. This can’t possibly be legal and it’s definitely not moral but it happens. It’s not so easy or cheap to extract yourself from this deal and if you do try, your priest will make you feel like you’re going straight to hell.]

If you speak English you would make little mistakes like starting an email with “Hello together.” Which is a direct translation from “Hallo zusammen” meaning “Hi everyone”. Obviously not every German makes these mistakes. Our token German friend Herr HH has immaculate English, often correcting our English writing or speech and participating in Australian/English/American arguments about whether it’s trunk/boot, trash/rubbish/garbage, petrol/gas, sweets/lollies/candy etc. Other cute little mistakes are “We’ve been working hardly on it” instead of “We have been working hard on it”, they often say touristic when they mean touristy and they can’t hear the difference between safe and save. In some cases their English grammar is better. Rarely does a native English speaker know when to say “whom” but the Germans nail it every time.

Despite jokes to the contrary, the Germans have a fantastic sense of humour. I submit this clever little clip from a German film school as evidence. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UP2DK4pEYS4

I’m off to rack up a few auslander points. Auf wiedersehen for now.

The wine trip tradition

Our three-girls-on-a-wine-weekend tradition started with a trip to the French wine region of Alsace. Miss MMM, Miss A and I drove the approximately 4 hours South-West to Colmar where we enjoyed the hospitality of the German-speaking French-border, wine-making folk. We ate flammkuchen, discovered the joys of the Gewürztraminer grape and attended a great wine festival in the village of Eguisheim. The drive home was slightly less comfortable than the drive there as we had squeezed boxes of wine in every possible orifice (of the car) but we had a great time and vowed to repeat the experience as soon as we could.

Our next opportunity was over the long Easter break and we decided upon Südtirol in Northern Italy, 5 hours South of Nürnberg. We stayed in a comfortable hotel in the village of Tramin.
http://www.pernhof.com
They allowed us to borrow bikes (with which we terrorised the vineyard owners by taking an “as the crow flies” approach to navigating the valley), they didn’t bat an eyelid when we consumed our freshly tasted and purchased Tirolean wine on their beautifully manicured, sunshine drenched lawn, they served the best pizza in town and they had a pet turtle who was soon christened Ted…or Tom…or Tony…or Todd.

The area around Tramin is beautifully mountainous and it’s where Miss MMM and I learned of Miss A’s passion for/obsession with hiking. When I used to think of hiking, it would be a leisurely stroll through the bush for a couple of hours where the only strenuous part was hurdling the venomous reptiles, avoiding the shark-toothed kangaroos and weaving through the obstacle course of spider webs. I was physically and mentally unprepared for the first hike with Miss A. She pitched it as a walk with lunch at a hutte on the hill. Eight hours, 7 bottles of wine, a dog with an underbite, and 13 steep kilometers later, we slid and stumbled our way down the rapidly darkening rocky mountain base to the safety of Tramin village. For various long-winded reasons, we hadn’t managed to have lunch and despite the obvious nutritional value in 2.333 bottles of wine, were a little shaky and grumpy…but laughing. Just.

The most recent wine gathering trip was a little closer to home at about 2.5 hours West in the Pfalz wine region. Our airbnb apartment wasn’t luxury but was a perfect base for our wine gathering/drinking needs.
www.airbnb.com/rooms/2851330

As is usual for our wine trips, we met a great number of characters during our stay. Dirk from Weingut Schäfer allowed us to sit and enjoy his wines for an entire afternoon. At one point we were in danger of being kicked out by a shotgun wedding party however the weather fined up, the previously planned outdoor space became usable which was lucky for the groom and thick-waisted bride as we had already invited ourselves to their nuptials and weren’t planning on going anywhere. Stefan, son of Norbert from Weingut Norbert Gutting asked us if we were drunk at 11am after our first few sips of wine. The seriously attractive but happily married Ralf from Weingut Georg Naegele did a fantastic Sauv Blanc (recipe from NZ) and warned us sternly that his teenage son was “off limits”. Martin from Weingut Martin Nickel was a tad upset that we fancied his beautiful rustic wooden wine cases more than his wine but that didn’t stop him from taking a break and enjoying a few glasses of red with us. Jutta from Weingut Helbighof sat down drinking and chatting with us for a good couple of hours and by the end wanted to adopt us…but that could’ve been the 2 liters of wine talking.
www.neustadt-hambach.de/index.php?ID_KAT=53

Very early one morning after a well-lubricated evening of wine festing in Deidesheim
http://www.pfalz-weinfeste.de 
we weaved our way back to the apartment only to discover that somewhere along the way, we had lost the key. Despite the 1am time, we knocked on the door of the guy downstairs to ask if he had a spare key. Michael/Matthew had been doing some carpentry work for our airbnb landlord so it was entirely plausible that he’d have one. Although Matthew/Michael had no spare key, he did have access to a ladder with which he assisted us out of the roof window in the stairwell and into the roof window in the kitchen. The three of us drunk and perched precariously on the high, steep roof of our apartment in Neustadt at 1:30 in the morning would’ve made an interesting sight. YouTube-worthy, some would say.

The next day nursing our hangovers and bruises we realised that we were locked IN our apartment and would have to call our chatty landlord in order to get out. Instead of getting mad, Gregor belly laughed at the mental images of the 3 of us clambering drunkenly along the Pfälzer rooftops in the wee hours of Sunday morning. “I would’ve PAID to have seen that.” said he. Poor old Mattheal/Michew paid with his time and patience as he was subjected to an hour of squirming, swearing and squealing. We gave him a couple of bottles of wine from our stash to apologise and hopefully numb the experience of meeting us.

We drove home in Miss MMM’s car once again crammed with a lot of great wine and many 40-year-old wooden wine cases from Weingut Martin Nickel.

Next wine trip? I’ll let you know once my liver shrinks back into the normal range.

Summer in Nürnberg

Summer in Germany is usually short and sweet and as unpredictable as an autistic child on acid. For months after the festive season, we wallow in depression with translucent skin, vitamin D deficiency and bum burns from sitting too long on the radiator to defrost.

The first time we get an inkling that Summer might be coming is when everyone gets in a tizz about changing their Winter tyres for Summer tyres. The rule of thumb used to be “von O bis O” (Oktober to Oestern) but with the current crazy weather patterns that doesn’t always suit. Regardless of the date, if you are caught driving on snow, black ice, or frost in your Summer tyres you’re up for a fine and if you have an accident wearing the wrong tyres your insurance may be void. Interestingly, hire car vendors are not obligated to provide you with Winter tyres as I discovered on a slow and treacherous drive to Berlin one deceptively sunny day.

The next landmark is the beginning of the Nürnberg Summer festivals, which in my book starts with Blaue Nacht.
www.blauenacht.nuernberg.de/English
It’s an arty night where all the lights of the city are turned blue, the museums are open late (and can be accessed with a reasonably cheap (sub 15 euro) Blaue Nacht ticket), and artwork is projected onto the castle. There’s an odd quirk of weather that dictates Blaue Nacht shall always be icy cold. This year Herr HH, Mr N, Mr R and I sat outside, having beers at the Wanderer, watching the waves of tourists for as long as our frostbitten feet could stand it. Out traditional post-Wanderer restaurant, The Hüttn was full so we made the brave decision to try something new. Do y’self a favour and try the Jägerschnitnel at Kaiserberg restaurant under the castle:
http://www.diekaiserburg.de/index.php/en

Having defrosted from Blaue Nacht, the next sign of Summer is when Sommer in der City is set up.
http://www.sommer-in-der-city.com
The site is a rough patch of land on the Insel Schütt. This island was created from the earth that was dug out when Nürnberg’s underground network of tunnels was constructed. Overnight, Insel Schütt transforms from a grotty, concreted play area to a beach… yes, a beach complete with sand, deck chairs, volleyball court and swimming pool. Well… swimming pool is an exaggeration but it’s definitely deep enough to drown in if you’ve had a few beers.

The Berg is English for Die Bergkirchweih
http://www.berch.info/englisch.html
It’s a fabulous, fun Oktoberfest-like beer festival in Erlangen. About 1 million people visit the festival during the 12 day festival. There are about 11000 seats along the 1 km Berg strip so (doing the maths) go early to get a table or else prepare to stand. Beers come in a litre. Don’t bother asking for less. Visiting the bathroom costs 50 cents and given the diuretic effects and the relative cheapness of beer, you can end up spending more on bathroom trips than beer.

An alternative beer festival slightly later in the year is Annafest in Forchheim
http://www.anna-fest.de
It’s a quieter, more remote version of The Berg. There’ll be lots of locals speaking the region’s dialect. Even if you understand German, you may struggle to understand what anyone here is saying. It’s about a 2 km walk from the train station. Just follow the tracht-wearing crowd.

If wine is more your thing, the Fürth weinfest is (or rather was) great. www.weinfest-fuerth.de Apparently this year it was cancelled due to noise but the organisers are fighting that little battle in court and with any luck it’ll be back next year.

As if there wasn’t enough going on in and around Nürnberg we also venture to Würzburg. One of the vinyards holds a wine fest that is so great we all make the 1 hour trek West every year. The one we love is held at Weingut am Stein. The tables are set up in between the vine trellises. There’s food and a band and of course the local wine. It’s possible to catch a train home at the end of a night but I’d recommend you stay.
http://www.weingut-am-stein.de.
Another supposedly excellent night in Würzburg is the Mozartfest.
http://www.mozartfest.de

Klassik open air is 3 free outdoor concerts by Nürnberg State Philharmonic and the Nürnberg Symphony Orchestras. About 100,000 people gather in a park in South Nürnberg armed with picnic blankets, wine, candles and friends to enjoy beautiful classical music under the stars. There’s one on Saturday night, one on Sunday night and one in the daytime for the kiddies.
http://www.klassikopenair.de

Bardentreffen (Bard=poet (or in this case, songster) and treffen=meet) is a free music festival set up on nine stages over three days in the city center.
http://www.bardentreffen.de
Each year has a loose theme. In 2013 it was “Canadian” and from what we could tell it was enough that one member of the band had been to Canada once upon a time or perhaps even just Googled it. There certainly weren’t many Canadian bands. This year was “War and Peace” and this is the blurb the website had to say on the subject: The festival deals with musical reflections in today’s crisis and war zones throughout the World and how, for instance, German-speaking songwriters deal with conflicts of social, religious and military sources. Deep. Whatever. The music’s usually interesting and it’s a great excuse to catch up with and bump into friends.

Other fun Summer things to do include:

Rafting down the Isar River in Munich: http://www.isarflossfahrt.net

If you like lots of beer and big, International crowds Oktoberfest is quite fun: http://www.muenchen.de/int/en/events/oktoberfest.html

Volk im Park is at the end of July in Marienbergpark to the North of the city http://www.folkimpark.com

The Brückenfest is supposed to be worth checking out: http://www.bruecken-festival.de/wordpress

The Volksfest is out near Hitler’s old parade grounds and is apparently for bogans.
http://www.volksfest-nuernberg.de
An allegedly nicer beerfest is the Altstadtfest which, as the name suggests, is in and around the Altstadt.
http://www.altstadtfest-nue.de

Whatever you do, enjoy the outdoors for as long as you can because before you know it it’ll be Oktober and time to put your Winter tyres back on.

Crime in Bavaria

Generally speaking, Germany is very safe and the people are extremely honest. When my American friend Miss JC found out I was considering an apartment which was on the ground floor, she enquired in a concerned voice; “What about security?” “It’s Germany, not the Baltimore Projects. I could leave the doors and windows open for days and the only thing that would happen would be that the neighbours would politely ring the bell to check that I wasn’t dead.”, I said.

My first brush with the German criminal element came once Tuesday afternoon when I was parking my car in the car spot and didn’t almost crash into my new bike. That was mostly because my new bike wasn’t there. My old bike was there but new bike and its chain had vanished. Initially I thought that maybe I’d left it in my apartment or perhaps that Miss MMM had borrowed it but after quick checks, alas no. I had been ROBBED.

New bike was only a year old. It had yet to clock up the number of experiences that my old bike had had although it did manage to throw my sister off and break her foot just before a two-week holiday in Italy where we’d planned much walking.

Old bike had had its own set of criminal adventures when it was stolen from right outside the hospital I was working at on the 27th December. When I reported it to the police, they muttered to each other; “Another one?”. Apparently it was an annual ritual for the crims to steal bikes shortly after Christmas as there was a higher percentage of new bikes then. They must’ve been disappointed by my trusty old steed because it was never sold and was recovered 6 months later from a drug den.

On my birthday in 2012, myself, Miss JC and Miss R were riding our bikes to dinner on the opposite side of town. We were crossing at the pedestrian crossing on a green man (as one always does in Germany) and I was in the lead on old bike when a BMW driver completely failed to see me. He hit me on the left side and by some freak of intuition and coordination, I managed to lift my left leg out of the way of the bumper while conducting an allegedly impressive tuck and roll move which left me unscathed. In mild shock I got up off the road, righted my bike, forgot that I was in a foreign country and started rebuking the German driver in English (not that I had the option to do any rebuking in German). He apologised profusely (in English) and went on his way as did we. It was only later upon examining the damage to old bike that I realised I should’ve asked him about insurance details. (More about the ubiquitous and obligatory haftpflichtversicherung in another blog.)

Anyway, back to missing new bike. On Wednesday morning, I dutifully rode old bike to the police station in East Nürnberg. Since the bike lock had been stolen with new bike I had no way to lock up old bike and the irony of potentially having my bike stolen from outside a police station while I was reporting my bike being stolen was playing through my mind.

The visit to the police station was a treat. It was a very humid day. Young, good-looking policemen (and less interestingly, police women) were milling about in the midst of a shift change. Half of them were putting their shirts on and half of them were taking them off. All of them were hot and sweaty. There’s something about a guy in uniform…or half in uniform…but I digress…

The banter was all in German but it appeared that the rookie of the department was nominated to attend to the trivial bike stealing case. He resigned himself to the boredom, gathered the necessary documentation and then turned to me just as his colleagues sprung the “in Englisch” to him with mischief in their eyes. The fear in his eyes told me that he found it not so boring any more. We struggled our way through the paperwork as I apologised for having to report the “crime” and he apologised that the “crime” would probably never be solved. We joked that the brand of new bike was “das ist mein fahrrad” (This is my bicycle.) and mutually concluded that “deep pure midnight ebony coal” was a ridiculous colour for a bike that was black and entered “schwarz” under fahrrad farbe.

Paperwork complete, I headed home on old bike expecting never to see new bike again.

Three days later, in Dubai airport, I suddenly recalled riding new bike to Nürnberg Hauptbahnhof to catch the train to Würzburg for a wine festival the weekend before.

www.weingut-am-stein.de

On the Sunday, I was offered a lift home by Herr HH and so didn’t pass by my bike while walking home from the Hauptbahnhof and promptly forgot about it. The blood drained from my body. Mein Gott. I had committed fraud. Blame it Alzheimer’s, alcohol or both. I wasn’t excited about “finding” my lost bike, just upset about having doubted the German character. Miss MMM picked new bike up for me a few days later which was lovely of her but gave me no joy. It would’ve served my right to have had it stolen and had my accusations come true.

I need to go back to the police station soon to report my fraud but I might wait until another hot and steamy day.

The beginning of the adventure

The move from Hobart, Australia to Nürnberg, Germany was fairly uneventful considering the 16,600-odd kilometer differential. The moving guys stripped my 2 bedroom Battery Point flat bare in under 3 hours. There was a moment when I had a bit of a sook but the compassionate moving man gave me a warm hug, a pat on the back and the kindly words “If it all goes belly up, come home. You can be my ball and chain.” Wow… a lovely thought but did he know it was 2012 and women had the right to vote? The flight was long and arduous as most Australia-Europe journeys are. The jet lag was a bitch as it always is but once I was in Germany, I felt at home. There was no home-sickness, it just felt sensible and comfortable…like a well-worn pair of uggies.

As part of my relocation package, my housing, car, paperwork, banking, drivers licence were supposed to be taken care of by the awkwardly named “Easy Entry” company but in reality, many of these things slipped into (unintended pun) place fairly easily without much assistance from my EE representative.

For example, I found my own apartment. My Aussie friend, Miss MMM had heard that a German/English couple was moving out of a great apartment in her building. My first communication with the English half of that couple involved a phone conversation with the incumbent resident, Mr J.  Faking an Aussie accent, he began with: “This is Hamburg customs. Are you aware that smuggling dingoes into Germany carries a 20000euro fine and a jail sentence?” He’s just lucky I was in a heavy fog of jet lag and could do naught but laugh. His apartment was perfect and I agreed to take it just minutes after walking in. Especially when I found out that it came with a kitchen. 

Oh yes, you heard correctly. The majority of German rental properties come kitchenless. I wish I could explain it to you but in all honesty nobody knows why this is. Yes, everybody agrees that kitchens are fitted to a specific house. Yes, it’s ridiculous to take them all apart and then put them back together in the new, differently sized house. Yes, the market is flooded with used kitchens. But that’s the way it is. Lights and curtains too. The house is given to you as a whitewashed shell with a tap nozzle and wires where the lights should be. You are expected to return it exactly the same. If you leave a light fitting where once there was none, say auf wiedersehen to your deposit.

Once you have your apartment. You may need to buy furniture. Momax, XXXL (NSFW warning: do NOT Google XXXL if you’re at work unless you specify furniture.) or Ikea are popular places. Here’s a tip: don’t expect to be able to pay by credit card. Every time I go through the painful process of winding my way through the maze and obstacle course that is one of those chain furniture stores and arrive harassed and stressed at the checkout with 10 more things than I intended to buy there is always, always an English-speaking person shouting at the cashier saying “What kind of stupid country is this that you don’t take credit card?”. The American military guys are the loudest.

At some stage, I bought a bed from a large furniture department store. The guys who delivered and built the bed came downstairs and asked me where the lattenrost were. “What are lattenrost?” says I. A few rounds of charades later, we established that lattenrost were bed slats. Back to the original question: “Wo sind die lattenrost?” repeats handsome bed builder. “I have no idea.” says I. “Not in your truck I presume?” “No, you have them.” mimes handsome bed builder. “I do? Where?” says I. “Ich Weiss es nicht!” says increasingly frustrated handsome bed builder. We consult paperwork. It appears I neglected to purchase lattenrost with my bed, mattress, sheets, pillows and duvet. My fault obviously. Of course you need to buy the bedslats separately. I could bore you with more of the details but let’s just say a number of trips to large furniture department store were required to solve my lattenrost issue. The last of which involved myself, my long-suffering friend Herr H, a slightly too small Audi, two allen keys, some splinters, a few lewd jokes about unscrewing and screwing the bed and several glasses of wine to dull the pain of my bed buying experience.    

German paperwork has no equal on the planet. For a start, everything is ACTUAL paper. Yes, it’s 2014 but if it’s not printed on paper it’s just not kosher. My tax friend, FC, informed me that there is even a form to fill in if you are having a trial separation. You have to register your address when you move to a city and then unregister when you move away. Significant fines apply to non-adherers. At a recent Aussie dinner, someone mentioned that there were 97 Aussies in Nürnberg. “No way!?” we say. “Yes way!” says she.” There are definitely 97 Aussies listed as being registered in Nürnberg.” Ahhhhhah. REGISTERED. At least half of those used to live here but forgot/couldn’t be assed to un-register when they moved.

Recycling is a big part of German life. Our American friend Miss JC almost came to blows with her neighbours because she didn’t recycle properly. The war started with a simple misunderstanding. Miss JC was not accustomed to recycling. (Apparently New Yorkers are immune to global warming and the fact that there is a world outside Manhattan.)

Actually, if you check out this map:

http://geology.com/sea-level-rise/new-york.shtml

it’s easy to see that a rise of only a few meters would be pretty devastating to Manhattan.

Miss JC threw trash (recyclable material) into the trash (müll) and thought that was that. Her neighbours disagreed and sorted her trash/rubbish for her. They left her a note to tell her the proper protocol. That note was in German so she promptly ignored it and continued her trash disposal New York style. The neighbours continued to sort her rubbish and she continued to flaunt this particularly German pain point. I haven’t caught up on the latest of the recycling war in that building but last I heard, our American friend was slowly adapting and has begun the arduous process of  separating glass from paper/cardboard from plastic/metal from organic from true rubbish and as a result is no longer facing eviction.

I love food the experience of shopping in foreign countries. From the American Walmart who sell guns (do the Americans realise how socially unacceptable/embarrassing they are to the rest of the world?) to the French supermarche which sells ALL 400 types of  cheese (thus completely ignoring the EU rulings on unpasturised dairy products… Vive le France!). Another goal goes to France (or at least the French supermarket chain, Intermarche) who are promoting ugly/misshapen fruit and vegetables:

http://overheard.liketodiscover.com/watch-how-this-supermarket-got-people-to-buy-their-rubbish/

I find it soothing and entertaining just to browse the shelves and see how product placement/marketing/brands differ in various regions. Germany was nothing unusual on the world stage apart from the fact that most products were from Germany. It was unusual to see a brand you recognised. Persil washing liquid, Doritos nacho crisps and Heinz baked beans were there but the (I thought) ubiquitous Kellogs Cornflakes, vintage cheddar and Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc were definitely not on the shelves.

If you’re moving to Germany for the first time and are a fan of our regional Aussie food and/or want to bring a gift for Aussie expats, stock up on Twisties, Violet Crumble, Summer Rolls, Samboy crisps, Tim Tams (great gift for non-Aussie friends especially if you emphasise the requirement that you do a Tim Tam slam with every biscuit)

http://www.wikihow.com/Do-the-Tim-Tam-Slam

If you have a glut of Tim Tams, feel free to send them my way.

 

Freibad on a sunny afternoon

Growing up in Australia where 98% of people live at the coast and then moving to a landlocked city feels somewhat disconcerting. With a dislike of sharks, sand, sunburn and other things that don’t begin with s, I’ve never been a particularly beachy person but for some reason, I miss it. Maybe it’s in my DNA.

From Nürnberg to the German coastline takes a little under 6 hours and the 2 main options are to head due North toward Denmark or North and slightly West to the North Sea. Who wants hypothermia? The sea due West at La Havre on the French Coast is about 8.5 hours by car but who wants to go to La Havre? South and a little East is Monfalcone in Italy and at only 6 hours drive is a far superior option to the Northern German seas. 8 hours drive South South West through Liechtenstein and Switzerland would get you to Genoa… but who wants to drive for hours and hours just to have a beer and a swim in the ocean? I pity German surfers.

A compromise for the rare occasions it gets moderately hot is a trip to “der See”. For added confusion the sea is called “die See” and the lake is called “der See”. “Das Meer” is also the sea. One would assume if the sea was feminine then the sea would also be feminine but no, one is feminine, the other neuter. -sigh- Random fact; “eine pfütze” is a puddle and is a derogatory term for a useless little lake.

Our favourite close-ish lakes are about 40 minutes South of Nürnberg.
http://www.fraenkisches-seenland.de
Before my first visit to Rothsee, Mr R had been talking up how beautiful and amazing it was…and how lucky we were to have these lakes so close. It may have had something to do with growing up on Perth’s amazing golden beaches, living on Bondi Beach, walking my sister’s dog on Collaroy Beach or experiencing Tassie’s remote, deserted beaches but I was somewhat underwhelmed. The grassy shores were packed with pink, fleshy Germans. The water was hardly crystal clear. You have to walk through muddy reeds to get to the water… and… eeeeewwwwww did something just touch my leg?? After I few visits, I grew to love launching myself off the jetty into unseen murky dangers and swimming briskly to the pontoon in the middle of Rothsee in order to thaw out then repeating in the opposite direction… but it ain’t no Aussie beach.

Last Summer, I discovered Langsee. It’s a lovely lake about 15 minutes cycle West of Nürnberg.
http://tsv1846nuernberg-schwimmen.de/index.php/langseebad

Two surprises await you there. One is that it’s half FKK (Freikörperkultur = Free Body Culture or nudist). Personally, I have no aversion to FKK but for those who do, be warned that the only distinction between the FKK and the textile area are a few signs that say “FKK beyond this point”. No fences, no shielding, no warning of things that cannot be unseen. If you had a towel for two, you could enjoy the privacy of your birkini and your other half could be naked while you both shared a chocolate sundae.

The other surprise is that the lake is extremely deep which results in particularly icy water. When I dove in for the first time I almost drowned as my lungs collapsed with the shock. Pneumothorax aside, after swimming a few laps to warm up it was absolutely lovely and remains a firm favourite when the weather gets hot.

Naturgartenbad is gorgeous but, like most other bads, is ridiculously overcrowded on a warm weather day.
This and other Nürnberg bads can be found here:
http://nuernbergbad.de/naturgartenbad/ausstattung-angebot

Bavarian schwimmbads in Winter are another subject. Stay tuned for a blog on them in another 6 months.

Gregor Samsa

My Trip Advisor review says something like this:

Gregor Samsa is a regular haunt for our expat group of friends, especially on a cold, wintery night. The restaurant is small (seats about 40 people maximum), cosy (make sure you wear a t-shirt under all your layers or you’ll cook) and dog friendly. The service is rough and ready but attentive. The waiters speak great English and are easy on the eye. The goulash comes in a wide variety of flavours (maybe 15) and all are delicious. My favourite is the horseraddish. Mmmmmm. Book in advance because it’s always chockers with us locals. Once you’ve ordered, settle back with your beer and observe the very unusual art on the walls. It’s… ummm… unique. Your goulash will come with mountains of bread or dumplings. Good luck getting through the whole bowl. Half portions are available but not advertised. Don’t be surprised if you’re offered a free shot of ouzo at the end to “aid the digestion”.

We’ve spent many happily sloshed nights here, harassing the waiters for more ouzo. It’s at the dead end of a tiny backstreet of Nürnberg (Maxfeldstrasse 79). It looks like a house and feels like home. The artwork features much genitalia but not in a pornographic way, more in a slightly disturbing “Why on earth would you paint that?” sort of way. It provides interesting icebreakng conversation initially but probably not appropriate for a first date.

I recently discovered that the Summer Gregor Samsa is even more fun than the Winter Gregor Samsa. The menu is the same but everyone sits in the garden leaving the restaurant empty. The meals/drinks are passed to you/thrown at you through the windows. In the back garden there’s a string with a bell that gives a jangle when you need something. Once jangled, one of the waiters comes to the window and looks around accusingly to see which of the 4 tables has disturbed his conversation/beer/attempt at chatting up the pretty girl in the front garden. You order a beer and he yells the order to the barman in a manner that makes you wish you’d skipped the middle man and just yelled your order directly at the barman instead. Ouzo still abounds but the belligerant owner, Marcel, reserves the right to withold ouzo if you haven’t adequately finished your mountain-sized portion of goulash.

http://www.gregor-samsa.com
+49911357618 – You’ll have to call to book. The phone will be answered by a gruff old guy saying “WHADDOYAWANT” in some sort of slurred German dialect.
Say; “Ich möchte einen tisch für vier Personen für acht Uhr reservieren”
Which means; “I would like to reserve a table for 4 people for 8 o’clock”
And sounds like; “Ich moochte i-nen tish fur fear personen fur ucht oohr reserveren”
He’ll ask you “Welche namen?” (Which name?) Answer with whatever name you like because he’ll get it wrong and you can always argue the point with the lovely English-speaking waiters when you arrive.

To give you an example: The last time I booked it was for a table of 8 under the name of Penny. When we arrived (admittedly there were now 10 of us), my reservation had morphed into a table for 4 under the name of Henry. We sat down obediently, squished up and had a wonderful (if somewhat sweaty and intimate) evening of fun.

Good luck!

Henry.