From farm to castle
Well, I’m no bicycle mechanic, that’s for sure.
I was telling you all about my issues with Wheel’s
gears. It took me
hours to get them to work properly, and it was no easy task, especially
after I’d been up until four in the morning trying to phone home. ET
had
more luck. I did eventually manage to make a connection, but it was
days
later.
So there I was in the middle of the afternoon down
in Angela’s storeroom, trying to fix the gears, and inadvertantly
dissassembling them
all
together, by unscrewing the wrong screw, then having to put the whole
mechanism back on, hopefully correctly. Somehow, in my bumbling, I did
manage to reattach them and get it all so I can actually get into my
low
gears, at least while the bike is upside down and has no load on it.
When that was done, which took many hours, I decided
to straighten out
the tiny warp in my back wheel. MISTAKE!
It only took about five
minutes
for me to warp the tire beyond recognition, which in turn caused me to
have to race downtown, all greasiy and dirty, to find a bike shop. Had
to leave the wheel overnight because it was in such bad condition the
mechanic didn’t want to try to fix it while there were people in his
shop. He said he would require complete focus, and couldn’t give it
that
while there were customers around. So I left the bike and went looking
for an internet connection.
I eventually found one, at a place called 02, which
was advertised as a
“free” hotspot. It wasn’t’ really free, they told me I would need a 25
Euro adapter to use their wireless. When I balked at that, they offered
to let me use their ethernet, which I did. The ethernet worked, but it
had some sort of bug in it, and somehow wiped out the inbox of my mail
program. Fortunately for me I had copies of all my mail left on my
server, so I didn’t lose too much. First bug I’ve
ever had on my Apple,
and I was eventually able to get rid of it by simply restarting my
machine.
That night I did get some sleep, and the next day I
retrieved my wheel,
then did some sightseeing around Tubingen, which really is a neat old
town full of universities and hospitals, and plenty of greenspace
bordered by old castles and a rather funky downtown core, which is
largely medeival, set on a couple steep hills. Much of the day I walked
around, with my wheel in hand, shooting pictures of town, dodging the
omnipresent rain, and generally enjoying myself.
I had intended to take the wheel back to Angela and
Andy’s, attach it,
and go for a ride, but by time I got there I was dog tired from walking
around, felt obliged to cook dinner for my hosts. Beisdes the rain and
wind
were up, so I forwent the trial run. I still haven’t got to it, four
days later.
You see, the morning after, was another morning
after I’d stayed up
late
trying to call home, again with less success than ET. By time I was up
the next day, had written a little, and packed for a side trip to
Weigarten to visit Angela’s family, it was time to go. So off we went
on
the train, while Wheels remained unridden, and upside down, in the
storage room.
It took a couple hours to reach Weingarten in the
south of Germany near
the Alps. Here’s a travelog excerpt I wrote for you all yesterday,
Saturday June 6, Schaffer Farm Near Weingarten
I am flashing to my youth on the farm as I sit amid
a morass of falling
down barns full of horses, hay and mud. My hosts are here, feeding the
horses, putting mulch on the berry garden, speaking rapidly in German
as
they rush around to get all the chores done before we have to go.
It is a rolling place, in sight of the Alps, with
fields of wheat, half
a dozen old farm buildings, gypsy caravans left to park and be lived in
by internant workers. There is unripened wheat, manure, large patches
of
stinging nettle, gardens, canoli gone wild in the field, fallow fields,
bees buzzing, and yes, horse flies.
I’m flashing, because as a kid I lived in such
places, and I now have a
clearer understanding of the connection between Angela and I. We’re
both
farm kids who were transplanted to the city. At least that’s part of
it.
In many ways just being here makes the trip
worthwhile. To be on the
ground on an old German homestead makes me feel like I have somehow now
seen the real Germany, which is like the real everywhere, the farm,
where the food is grown that nurtures the generations.
This has been the nicest day since my arrival in
this part of country,
the province known and Baden Wurtburg. It has not rained, and I have
been to both castle and farm.
Earlier Andy, Angela and I toured the very real
medieval castle, built
first in the 11th or 12th century. From its keep one can see the Alps
to
the south and east, and the Weingarten valley to the west. North and
South the land rolls and tumbles, dotted by the red rooves of dozens of
small towns, some of which have been inhabited since the dark ages.
Inside the castle were coats of mail, riding armour,
maps, drawings of
the original castle, and paintings of the many generations of people
who
made the place home. While atop the castle I had to resist the urge to
discharge my morning coffee atop the clay roof, and was forced to climb
down the several sets of stairs to the castle courtyard to find a
bathroom, then to climb back up the insides of the castle to the
lookout. When I returned Andy and Angela told me about a nearby hill
where three countries come together, and how it is a local male
tradition to go there and pee on three different countries. I had
difficulty understanding why they would not let me do the same from the
castle reaches after that.
From the farm, the castle can be seen, miles away,
atop the highest
ridge in the area. To think my friend grew up, in sight of both castle
and Alp, amid these fields and barns, teaches me much about her, and
her
family, and makes me feel glad I’ve come to know her, and now her
family.
Bought a ticket to Avignon France today. That’s way
in the south of the
country, not far from where my friend Emma lives. I’ve done so to
escape
the weather forcast which is promising more of the same. On Wednesday
coming I will board the train and begin a new part of my adventure, by
rail.
Until then, I remain in this place a few more days,
with Angela, Andy,
Angela’s sister Edith, her neice Juliana, and their mom, Englehardt, a
pleasant woman of 62 who seems eager to feed me at every opportunity.
This morning, when I woke up. She was there in the
kitchen getting
ready
for the day. When I took my coffee outside into the sunshine, to write,
she followed me, set a table, put food on it, then seemed shocked when
I
ignored it, grabbed a lawn chair, and went to sit near the back fence
to
scribble in my notebook. She laughed afterwards, and was very relieved
when I finally chowed down on a large bowl of oats and raisins.
Mom’s kitchen is the centerpiece of their small
suburban home. When we
are there, we are in the kitchen, being fed tea, buscuits, cake, great
lentil soup with dark bread, coffee. And all the while the conversation
goes on, mostly in German, which Andy kindly translates. Its about
everyday things, and is laced with laughter.
Tubingen seems far away, and so does the rain and
wind and cramped
living space. Here, Andy and Angela are far more relaxed. They sit and
actually do nothing, whilst Mom and Edith take care of the chores. At
home they are always busy, always discussing something important,
always
working. Here, they settle back into themselves, the stress leaves, and
they get downright comfortable, passing the bulk of their time playing
with or amusing two year old Juliana. who also seems totally in her
element here on the farm, with tiny hipwaders on, exploring the barns
and ponds, picking flowers, feeding the horses, chasing a litter of new
born kittens, picking up bugs and examining them like her biologist
aunt.
Now, all of a sudden, we’re off in Andy’s family
car, back for dinner
in
town.
Next Day
This morning the rains have returned and the air is
cold. I’ve been
housebound much of the morning and early afternoon while my hosts have
been off attending church and family functions. I have had some time to
play with little Juliana, who calls me “grosse man” meaning “big man”
and is now having her afternoon nap, while this house full of women are
busy in the kitchen preparing lunch, or dinner, which is the main meal
around here.
On the night we arrived here I finally manged to
call home
successfully,
and yesterday, Andy, Angela and I drove around the area, with my
computer up and open, until I was able to find a wireless connection
that worked for me. Most of the servers here are even more advanced
than
my computer, which is a reasonably new computer. Eventually we found a
connection I could use, and which I hope to use later to send out this
mail.
Like I said, I’ve purchased a ticket to Avignonn in
the south of
France,
with a stopover on Wednesday evening in Lyon, France. I’m looking
forward
to it because the weather reports all say it is sunny and warm there.
Kids, I can seriously use some sunny warm.
Anyway, last night I turned on the TV and watched
CNN. They had a story
about the arrests of several alleged terrorists in Southern Ontario,
then clips of our Prime Minister talking about how these people want to
attack Canadian values and our tolerant society. This morning I find
myself wanting to write home to the papers and radio and remind Mr.
Harper that one of our “values” is the premise that people are innocent
until proven guilty and that it is a violation of this tenant, to use
these arrests as a vehicle to prop up his Bush agenda of scaring the
hell out of people and then focussing on a war mentality.
Anyone who would want to blow up anything in Canada,
or to hurt
Canadians, is obviouly ill of mind and heart. We need to look at what
is
making people want to do such things. Sadly, I find Mr. Harper’s
oppotunist comments, and his apparent disregard for due process,
equally
as appalling as the intent to inflict harm on innocent Canadians. I
hope
none of you at home are buying into his ploy.
Not sure what happens once I’m in France. I’d still
like to find a way
to stay over here longer than my ticket will allow, but the money store
is almost out of stock and it may not be possible. Hopefully I’ll find
some farm work or a way to make some dough so I can keep on rolling.
Haven’t been on my bike since last Monday or
Tuesday. Add the fact my
hosts here are feeding me all sorts of meat, cheese and sugar, and I’m
getting a little worried I may soon lose my marvellous thighs and tight
belly and be rendered incapable of using the bike, if it is in fact
useable. I still don’t know.
We head back to Tubingen on Monday, tomorrow. Guess
I’ll find out then
how my repairs worked out.
Monday June 5
Yesterday Angela, her Mom and I did a walking tour
of Weingarten. We
visited the local Catholic bassilica, which is apparently the largest
such structure north of the Alps. We stopped a while to listen to the
congregation’s organist play some Bach on the majestic gold plated pipe
organ. The fellow is one hell of a keyboardist.
I’ve been in a lot of churches in my life but this one surprised me. It
was actually bright and cheery, with paintings on the ceilings, and
lots
of light pouring in windows. Angela told me it was the Baroque fashion,
for the churches to be full of light.
The paintings were the usual nonsense, blonde
blue-eyed Christs with
blonde, blue eyed Mary, and all the sinners and bad guys being people
of
colour. I told Angela, its all bullshit, but magnificent bullshit. More
impressive were the statues and carvings in the place, and the organ,
which stood about two stories tall, was entirely plated in gold, and
made my guts rumble when it was played.
Angela told me there were once many priests in the
abbey but only five
remain and they do not speak with one another. They live in very close
quarters and hate each other so much they communicate only by letter. A
fine example of Christian goodwill. So there they are, in a place with
enough gold in it to feed a starving third world nation, squabbling
with
each other like spoiled children and presuming to lead. Magnificent
bullshit, like I said.
Last night Andy left to be with his family, who live
nearby. Angela and
I finally had a chance to sit and talk without interuption. It was
nice.
She told me all about her family, her deceased father, her aunts and
uncles, the history of the farm and lot of other things. In a couple of
years she will finally graduate and become the first person in her
family to earn a doctorate degree, in physical science.
Right now I sit at the kitchen table with
Engelhardt, who is peeling
asparagus for lunch. Edith, Angela and little Juliana have gone for a
walk in the light rain. Englehardt intermittently babbles at me in
German, then realizes I don’t comprehend, then falls quiet again.
Still,
she looks at me from time to time and gives me a huge smile. She likes
me, and I think has enjoyed having my company. Yesterday, when I
decided
to take an afternoon nap, she made her daughters shut up so I could
sleep. Methinks maybe I remind her of her husband, who I’m told
cherished his naps.
Earlier, when I first got up, little Juliana got out
of her high chair,
came over to me in the kitchen, took my hand, and started dancing with
me. She likes me too!
In a couple hours Angela and I head out to meet Andy
at the train
station for the return trip to Tubingen. In tow, I’m told, we will have
bags of food donated by Andy’s grandparents, a curmudgeonly couple in
their late 70s, who don’t say much but wear big smiles and a warmth not
readily apparent in their stoic dispositions.
I can scarce believe that I am halfway around the
world and now have
memories of life in small town Germany to add to the warehouse treasure
trove that are my memory banks.
Anyway, by time most of you get this I will be in
the south of France,
facing new challenges and a new phase of the adventure. I’ll let you
know how it all turns out.
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