To Texas and Back Again

It's been nearly three years since I moved away from Germany. I did a lot in those last few months in the country, but I didn't feel much like writing. I moved back to Texas in June 2014 because I wanted to be near my mom; she had been diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer six months earlier. She was an excellent patient and had such determination, and I was so glad to be home with her. Though she outlived her prognosis by nearly a year, Mom succumbed to the disease in April 2015.

One thing I inherited from Mom at an early age was an appreciation for all things German. Mom loved Germany, and she loved visiting me when I lived in Germany. Neither one of us liked to have our picture taken, but thankfully, when you are on vacation, you have to take a few!

Mom in Würzburg, 2011

Mom and me in Rothenburg ob der Tauber 

Mom and me in Czesky Krumlov

This summer I'll be moving back to Germany to teach again, this time in Berlin. The countdown has begun...I leave in about 6 weeks! I've been to Berlin a couple of times as a tourist, including once with Mom, but the one picture we took together on the Spree was not flattering for either of us. So, I'll just post the photo that everyone who has ever visited the Reichstag has taken...

...and promise to have better pictures of Berlin and more adventures to write about soon. 

Bis bald!

 

Eisenach

I love castles, and there are so many in Germany. One that has been on my list for a long time is the Wartburg Castle in Eisenach.

downtown Eisenach

Eisenach is a picturesque town in its own right, but most people go to Eisenach to see the Wartburg Castle. The thing about castles is that they are usually way above the town...

The hike up there is worth it for the view, though.

Even for a castle, the Wartburg is REALLY old: the main hall was built in 1155.  The castle is pretty well-known thanks to a famous visitor it had nearly 500 years ago. In 1521, Martin Luther was excommunicated from the Catholic Church, and he hid out in the Wartburg Castle.  He used his time at the Wartburg to translate the New Testament of the Bible into German.

Martin Luther's room at the castle, presumably where he wrote his translation of the Bible

chapel inside the castle

It's a BIG castle!

Road Signs

Road construction seems to be a constant just about everywhere. At least in Germany they have a sense of humor about it.

Six more kilometers of construction work :(

four more kilometers....

it's getting better...

DONE! :)

Freyenstein

When I went to Freyenstein for the first time in 2003, I didn't really know what I was doing. I knew that my great-grandmother's family had come from a town called Freyenstein; I just didn't know which Freyenstein (there are two in Germany, one in Switzerland).  I was on a mission, though, and within 48 hours of arriving in Germany, I set out on the Autobahn in a rented Fiat and headed for the nearest Freyenstein, determined to find the birthplace of my ancestors.

After a few construction detours, confusing one-way streets and traffic circles, and an almost complete inability to ask for (or understand) help, my resolve began to give way to frustration and fear.  “What am I doing driving around by myself in a country whose language I don’t speak?  What if this isn’t even the right town?  Why can’t I get this car to go in reverse???” 

Just then, as I passed the same building for the third time in Freyenstein’s neighboring town, Wittstock, a song began playing on the radio that I had never heard before. It was Harry Belafonte singing: Ma-til-da! Ma-til-da! Matilda, she take me money and she go Venezuela!  Everbody! Ma-til-da…

Matilda—as in my great-great-grandmother whose parents and in-laws came from Freyenstein, as in the woman my grandmother was named after.  I didn’t know if the Germans believed in “signs” like other cultures do, but at that moment I smiled and thought, if there ever was a sign from above, this was it.  I was headed to THE Freyenstein. 

the road to Freyenstein (not the main road--I have no idea how I found this one)

I had a good time in Freyenstein. A few weeks before going, I had emailed the town's librarian, Christine, and told her that I was trying to find out some information about my ancestors. Christine had arranged all kinds of things for me--first, I was given a tour of the church, and then the castle; I was even interviewed by the local newspaper.  While I was being interviewed, Christine went to the hair salon next door and told everyone there why I was in town, and one of the ladies came over and let me know we were probably (very distantly) related.

Town square in Freyenstein (2003)

Before I move back to Texas, I wanted to visit Freyenstein again. This trip was a lot more subdued than the last one. There weren't as many cars on the square or as many people on the streets. It seems that more and more people in this former East German town are doing the same as my great-great-grandparents: moving away in search of better opportunities. Though it appeared almost deserted, Freyenstein still had its charm.

town square in Freyenstein (2014)

St. Marienkirche, across from the square

the old castle

side street two blocks from the town square

the "new" castle (built in the 15th century) getting a facelift

One thing that Freyenstein has now that was not around in 2003 is an archaelogical park.  The original Freyenstein was destroyed in 1287 and residents then decided to move the town to its current location (across the lake).  Old Freyenstein is now carefully being dug up and displayed. There is still a lot of work to be done there, but Freyenstein is hoping this will bring more people to the town.

old East German mural on the partially-remodeled school building where the archaeological museum is
 

more work to be done at the park

Bayern-München!

Before last weekend, I had only been to Munich once on a tour in high school. The only thing I really remember from that quick run-through was watching the Glockenspiel with the crowd.

This time I watched the Glockenspiel, too, but the big event for me was going to the Bayern-München soccer game at Allianz Arena. The game itself wasn't that exciting, but just being there was. I wasn't sure what to expect, because I had seen groups of rowdy fans around Munich that day. For a pro sport game, it was all so civilized. It was more like a tennis or golf crowd. When a good effort was made on either side, the crowd clapped. When something happened that the crowd didn't appreciate (e.g., a foul not being called), the stadium erupted, but not in boos or screams. The crowd WHISTLED very loudly. When Bayern-München scored a goal, the announcer asked the crowd for the score, for which he then thanked them (and they responded in kind):

Announcer: Bayern-München?

Crowd: ZWEI!

A: Leverkusen?

C: NULL!

A: Danke!

C: BITTE! 

Bayern-München and Leverkusen before the game 

It was all so polite--at least, on the Bayern side. I could be wrong, but I am pretty sure I heard "Scheiss auf" in one of the opposing teams' chants. If you go to Allianz Arena, you probably don't want to be in the opposing teams' section; you won't be allowed to take food or drinks to your seats. I don't know why...maybe you will throw it at the FC Bayern fans? I did hear from a reliable source that the men's room in the guest section had been trashed. So, maybe some concern is justified. 

Driving past the Allianz Arena after Bayern-München's win 

It Happened in Bosnia

I was only in Bosnia for a short time last spring, but it was long enough to know that I wanted to go back.  I told my students I was flying to Sarajevo on Thursday, and one of them said, "You go to all the weird places."  Maybe so. I can't explain it, but I am fascinated by the Balkan region.  

This blog is more-or-less a travel blog, not a political one. When you travel to the Balkans, though, it's hard to leave politics out of it. Before planning my last trip to the Balkans, I had a vague sense of what had happened in the former Yugoslavia in the 1990s. Fighting broke out among the Orthodox Serbs, Catholic Croats, and Bosnian Muslims. They all hated each other, and had been killing each other for generations…and that was a good enough reason for the rest of us to stay out of it.  All sides had all committed atrocities; therefore, they were all equally guilty, right?

I don’t think so anymore.

At the beginning of the war, the rest of the world tried to help stop the war by refusing to sell or give any of the fighting parties weapons. Sounds good, right? No weapons, no fighting. The problem is that this left Croatia and Bosnia at a gross disadvantage; neither had a real army. The Serbs, on the other hand, had all of the Yugoslav arsenal at their disposal.  

When I heard of the war in the Balkans back then,  I was under the impression that fighting was all over. Not true. None of the actual clashes were in Serbia; some of the fighting was done in Croatia, and a lot of it happened in Bosnia.  Even twenty years later, many shelled buildings serve as a reminder.

      



Of the more than 100,000 killed or missing at the end of the war, over 68,000 of them were Bosnian Muslims*.  I believe it, too. I have never seen so many cemeteries –with such new-looking headstones—as I did all over Bosnia. 

part of a cemetery in Mostar; most of the people buried here died in 1993

During World War II, Croats murdered many Serbs; the Serbs used this as a reason to attack the Croats in the 1990s. The Serbs better hope that the Bosnian Muslims don't use the same reasoning in thirty years.

 

 Bosnia, twenty years after the war

 

 

 

 

*From The War Is Dead, Long Live the War, by Ed Vuillamy. The numbers come from a thorough analysis by two Polish investigators, Zwierchowski and Tabeau. They have been criticized by both Bosnians (who think the numbers are too low) and the Serbs (who think the numbers are too high).   

 

 

More of Croatia!

Wow, it's been a long time!  I have a lot to catch up on.  My last post was about Split and Dubrovnik, but that was not the only time I had been in Croatia. In October of last year I spent nearly a week on an island near Zadar.

I used most of the time in Preko to relax, but there was time for a little exercise. My friends were going cycling, and that's not really my thing, so when the girl at the tourist office suggested I walk up to the ruins on the hill, I thought, why not?  She said it was only a 30 minute walk.  My general rule is when someone from Europe tells me how long it will take to walk somewhere, I double it. So, one hour to the ruins wasn't bad.  It was more like an hour and a half on a windy road.  

Above: I probably should have known it would take more than an hour to get to the ruins; I couldn't even see them. Below: At that point, I thought I had to be halfway there--I wasn't...not on that windy road!)

Just when I thought I had made it...there was one last leg up to the ruins.

 

It was a little scary because there was NO ONE anywhere.  Occasionally I would hear a car or a plane, but that was it.  Once I got to the top, I turned my iPad to roaming, and posted a picture on facebook. I figured, that way, if anything happened to me, people would at least know where to start looking! It was worth it, though, because from the top I could see the other side of the island. 

 

 

While we were in Preko we took a day trip to Plitvice National Park. I remember thinking it was pretty when we were walking through it, but when I look back at the pictures I see just how amazing it is. Here are just a few:

 

 

 

 

 

 

Split

The last place on the trip before going back to Frankfurt was Split, Croatia.  Split was like Dubrovnik, only bigger, older, and (to me, at least) with more personality.

 

 



 

 

It was also hot.  It was supposed to get up to 70 degrees that day, but I think it was closer to 80...and I didn't have clothes for that kind of weather.  In Dubrovnik I had bought a Croatian national soccer team jersey for my brother, and I had to wear it in Split (Sorry, Will!). I was much more comfortable (some gelato helped, too), but I have never felt more like a tourist.     

 

via