who learned a lot on a walk.

   In the last post about Copenhagen, I talked about a book that I'm reading. Actually, I vaguely mentioned a book that I'm reading. Guys, it's so good. I'm dying to share it with you. And I figured there's no better place to tell you about it than right next to some more happy photos from CPH.

A few months ago, Christoph Simon (a popular Swiss novelist) came to the University of Utah with his (Scottish!) translator, Donal McLaughlin to teach workshops and give a reading. Donal recently helped Christoph translate his latest novel, Zbinden's Progress into English, and that was the book that they read from. They taught workshops on writing (in German! Suffice it to say that I need a bigger Wortschatz, literally word treasury or vocabulary) and translating. 

The workshops were great, but oh, the readings! 

This is going to have to go on the list of most lovely books ever. It's so lovely that even though it's gripping and you're dying to know what happens, you try to restrict yourself to reading a page a day, just to make the loveliness last longer. 

It's lovely, okay? 

In German, the title of the book is Spaziergänger Zbinden, which would probably be best translated as "Zbinden the Walker." Lukas Zbinden is the title character, a now old man who tells a young caretaker in a rest home about his life - his wife Emilie, their love of walking, their son, Markus. Lukas is a city walker, Emilie a country walker. When she takes off to jump over stiles, and walk off into the countryside, he worries that she will come back in eighteen bags (suffice it to say, he's a worrier). 

It's the sweetest love story, the most beautiful picture of a life together - Christoph said that he wanted to write a novel about two people who loved each other so much that they always wanted to be together. They didn't marry because they would get a tax cut, or it just seemed convenient. (He said that this is unusual in Swiss culture). Speaking of Swiss culture, if you want to read this book, read the *warning at the bottom of the post to avoid culture shock. ;)

The two walk, and walk, and Lukas is always talking about what good walking can do. You should walk when you least feel like it, because that is when you most need it, he said. You find yourself. Walking is always getting more out of a walk than you expect, but never expecting too much. 

So, now that I've waxed all read-this-book-please! on you... 

I can tell you, Lukas Zbinden is totally right. I wish I had more time to walk normally, because it is one of the  most peaceful ways to think, to see the world, to be. You notice blossoms on trees, and the way the light streams through clouds. You notice how people smile at each other. It's like magic, like seeing another world, that you've actually been standing in all along. 

Yes, that's a heart on the guard hut. 

                                 

I saw it for the first time in Copenhagen, because it was the first place that I've ever spent an entire day walking, not stopping to do anything else. You do a lot of thinking when you do that. And sometimes, not thinking, just looking. I left Copenhagen feeling so much more myself. I don't think anything really changed, but I was a much stronger, braver, happier version of myself, and I noticed the world around me too. 

My favorite museum in Copenhagen, the Thorvaldsen Museum. These are the original plaster molds for the Christus and the angel. 

This is the part where I stood in front of Hans Christian Anderson's grave. And cried.  HC Anderson is my hero

**WARNING, WARNING,  (except for not really). Especially for Americans: Just thought I'd let you know that some things in this book don't translate very well... most particularly the dish that's served in the rest home on page one. I'm not going into it, (because I don't want to, you don't want me to, nobody wants me to), but just try not to freak out when you read what they're eating. It's normal food in Switzerland, albeit... shocking here. Also cultural. ;) Prepare to experience world cuisine. 

who ate spaghetti ice cream (it's not as weird as it sounds)...

Spaghetti Eis sounds like something that you would eat on April Fool's Day, but in North Germany, it's around all summer. (And probably winter too). Many ice cream shops have machines that shoot out streams of vanilla ice cream that look like spaghetti, but taste like cold cheesecake. The ice cream is topped with raspberry sauce and shavings of white chocolate for parmesan. 

Major deliciousness. 

I was excited.

There is a lot of ice cream in Utah (there are probably at least five ice cream shops within a mile of my house), but spaghetti ice cream isn't on the menu, which is making me seriously think about experimenting with softened ice cream and a potato ricer. And reducing raspberries. And shaving white chocolate with a cheese grater. Yep, it's happening. 

who went to Copenhagen.

Eight months ago, after the other adventures I've told you about, I went on off on a little journey all alone. Now, I've got some catching up to do, and I'm getting ready for another adventure too.

After spending a little over five weeks in Kiel with my friends and dear host family, I took off on my own before heading home. I hopped up on a train to Hamburg, then up to Flensborg, and off to Copenhagen, where I spent four days alone (my mom thought I had been taken... but I wasn't. In my defense, the internet didn't work. Sorry, Mom.).

Do you remember the beach? Well, in Copenhagen, this palace was just down the street, in a lovely park.  It's not a palace anymore really- it's used for military training. Great though, right?

So, what does one do in Copenhagen? Actually, what doesn't one do in Copenhagen? But in my case, I did two things, which are really one thing. I walked, and I walked in museums. And Tivoli. (Which is even more magical than it sounded in Number the Stars. More on that later).

A friend lent me her copy of this book, which I would highly recommend. It has great walking routes and maps, if you ever happen to be in Copenhagen. It has about nine planned walks, if I remember correctly. You could take one a day, or, you could be like (way overenthusiastic) me and string them all together in a day and walk a marathon. : ) I'm a bit of an avid walker (which reminds me, I've the most lovely book to tell you about in a few posts. Stay tuned!).

 What say we to some photos? I say yes.

So, here comes The Walk, Day One. 

This is the first photo I took in Copenhagen, just after I bought my Copenhagen Card, and wandered towards the royal district. 

The best part of this picture? Bikes, always bikes. 

Flag, flag, happy flag.

In the marble dome. 

Can you see her? Let's play Where's Waldo, except let's really play "Where's the Little Mermaid?" I love the Danish flags. They're so happy. I love the kids (unseen in the picture) who were looking out at the water and eating cinnamon sugar almonds. I love the island out there in the distance. And the red buildings on the island. 

Sometimes being a tourist is more fun than trying to blend. Like when you buy a hot dog (they're good in Copenhagen. And served in baguettes with creamy mustard) swing your legs over that wooden dock and listen to the gypsy violinist play "Wonderful, Wonderful Copenhagen." I love Copenhagen. I love old sailboats. I love the colors on these houses. I love Danny Kaye. 

In a star-shaped fortress. (It's a thing). 

Very Kate Middleton, no? (Yes, that's me in the reflection)

That's day one. Day two is up next. : ) 

who accomplished the impossible.

And found vla.

Vla is a dessert. It's also almost impossible to describe; it's vanilla, but it's not quite pudding, because it's better. It's much, much better. In Holland, you can buy it buy the carton. You can make vla flips with yogurt and fruit syrup. But. There's one terrible thing about vla. You can't get it outside of Holland.

Or so I thought, until I made an extremely delightful discovery here.

I was on a train with Anna and Wendy  on the way back to Kiel from Hamburg, and Wendy and I started planning out her trip to Amsterdam. I told her that she had to get vla. And Anna told me that you can get it in Kiel too. She told me what supermarket to go to, and where to look.

She was right.

And oh, was my backpack happy. I bought chocolate and vanilla party for a game night we had on Saturday, and toted it back in my faithful pink backpack. Seriously. Faithful - this baby's been around since seventh grade. Yep.

If I were a food photographer, I would have taken breathtaking pictures of our vla to share here; but I'm not. And they would not have done the vla justice. And that would be a sad thing indeed.

And in case this wasn't enough euro-cuisine taunting for you, here are the top ten hits around here (to date,) in no particular order:

1. Rote Grütze (previously mentioned, multiple times, I believe) - stewed sour cherries, red and black currants, raspberries and other red fruits, served with vanilla sauce.
2. Fresh Strawberries. (And not just because they are sold in cute strawberry huts).They're all Deutschland Erdbeeren, tiny and fresh from the fields.
3. Abendbrot - sliced rye bread, served with a smorgasbord of choices, including butter, gouda, camembert, scrambled eggs and chives, tiny shrimp (Krabben), sour cream with chives, herring salad, salami, mustard, and tomato and mozzarella spread. We eat some variation of Abendbrot almost everyday for dinner.
4. Pickled Herring Salad - (see above) it tastes just like it sounds... or at least, I assume it does.
5. Salmon or Halibut in Mustard Dill Sauce, served with vegetables.
6. Plain Yogurt, Honey, and Müsli, with Peaches or Apricots - this is breakfast every weekday. In a really good way. :)
7. Whole Wheat Bread - Apparently, Germany has more kinds of bread than anywhere else. Most are variations on whole wheat.
8. Ritter Sport Chocolate - RS released new flavors this year to celebrate their 100th anniversary. The whole gang loves white chocolate with coconut and crisped rice. Dear Ritter-Sport, that really was a brilliant idea.
9. Ice Cream. Of course.
10.  Rhubarberschorle. Okay, this one deserves its own paragraph. And a picture too.

There are appleschorles, and grapeschorles, and best of all, rhubarbschorle. Schorle is juice mixed with sparkling water, and North Germany is crazy about it. There's schorle at breakfast, lunch, and dinner. And really, I can't blame them, because quite honestly, because I'm crazy about it too.

I found rhubarbschorle for the first time in a tiny Turkish shop in Hamburg where we stopped for dinner on Friday. Before I had even opened it, I wanted to take a picture, but was slightly deterred by the sheer number of people in our restaurant. I mean, who pulls out their camera and snaps a photo of their drink? Answer: I do! And I'm so glad that I did.

I was even more excited to find this for the second time, today, when we stopped by a cafe to grab lunch between classes.

I know where I'll be tomorrow before grammar class. :)

met a jellyfish, a girl, a seagull, and a baby on a Sunday at the beach.

This is my beach on the Baltic Sea. Shall I give you a tour? Ahem. This is Falkenstein Strand, perfectly situated on the edge of Kiel Fjord. If you turn your eyes to the other side of the fjord, you will see Laboe, Kiel's resort beach. It is easily picked out, because of its tall (okay, not so tall-looking in this picture) metal tower, which is a WWII memorial. As you can see from the waves and the sails, it was windy today. White sails pop out of the ocean all the way up and down the fjord and out into the sea. The water's only inhabitants (large enough to speak of) are harmless jellyfish that look like buttons (they have four clear dots on their tops) and "catsharks." But they are rarely seen in any case, and are also completely harmless. Phewf, that's enough of that.

I love this beach. Its sands are happiest when decked with picnic blankets, as they often are. Families play beach ping pong (without a table) here, and it has a view of the harbor and the sea. Sailing boats and enormous trading ships pass by, and on windy days like today, (who am I kidding? It's always windy here) you can watch the sailboats and the kite surfers by Laboe. (Perhaps) best of all, it is perfect for cloud-watching. The clouds move and change quickly, and like everywhere in this low country, the sky goes on forever.

Just moments after we plopped our bags and beach towels onto the sand, we rushed to the water to stand in the waves. It was actually chilly today (rainy all morning,) but we wanted to stand in the Baltic anyway. That, and we had high hopes of seeing some button jellyfish. They are really cute (for jellyfish).

We didn't wait long. In fact, we didn't wait at all. I put my toes in the water, and quickly spotted this fellow:

His name is Norbert.

He is very nice, and doesn't bite.

When we got back from Sylt, I felt kind of brave for catching myself a jellyfish. I told my guest parents all about it. They were delighted that I had discovered Northern Germany's greatest child's toy. They told me all about how their little kids used to slop them up and squish them
through their fingers. Um.... I'm not quite that brave. Okay, who knows. Maybe I am. But I was too attached to Norbert to put him through that, so after we snapped these photos, I quickly put him back where he belonged, but not before a fellow jellyfish lover spotted me and ran across the sand and through the waves to meet me. She splashed up just as I was settling Norbert back into his home.

This is her:

She's the little one. The grown-up is Losa.

She ran right into the water, repeating, "Qualle, Qualle, Qualle!" (Jellyfish, jellyfish, jellyfish!). I turned to her and asked, "Suchst du auch die Qualle?" (Are you looking for the jellyfish too?)

Okay, pause. German children are adorable. Especially when they speak German (I know, of course, German children speak German. But really).

"I have a jellyfish right here," she said, "but I can't pick him up."

"Why not?" I asked.

"Because my mommy said not to."

"That's a good reason. I didn't pick up jellyfish either when I was really little."

"Oh." She said, a little relieved. She stood there for a minute, staring at her jellyfish, then splashed in a circle around it thoughtfully."And how long ago were you really little?"

"Just a little while ago." I answered. She'll be catching jellyfish in no time.

"Okay then!" she chirped with a twinkly smile and skipped up the beach to her mom and sisters.

I went back to my blanket too, and collapsed happily into the sand. Jellyfish Jane and her sister were building a sand mountain, while couples walked with their dogs past them. Meanwhile, their baby sister made a friend just a few feet away from us.

Jane was back several times within the next half hour. She ran at me with sand buckets filled with water and jellyfish.

"Take him, take him!" She would say.

"You want me to pick him up? Out of his water?" I'd ask.

"Yes, yes, pick him up so I can see! But just quickly, so he doesn't die."

"Okay," I said, taking out a particularly large jelly. "Here he is. Look, this one's blue!"

"Doesn't matter. He only looks blue. It's the water that does that," she said knowingly.

"Ah," I answered. "Now quick! Back in the water!"

And off she ran with her pail full of jellyfish.

"Thank you for the jellyfish!" I called to her as she plopped him back into the water. She waved back at me and called back in her tiny voice, "You're welcome!"

who lived among windmills and clouds.

This was a wonderful day. As always, the sun was in and out, fighting it out with a North German rainstorm. Today at Molfsee, we fine-tuned the art of rainy outdoormuseuming. When the sun came out, we dashed along, looking at buildings and pastures. When the rain started, we ducked inside the nearest barn (oh! Did we just enter a eighteenth century novel?!) and waited it out. We looked at the furniture, read about the houses, and worked on the German scavenger hunt packet we were given on entering.

Our second stop was in a bricked house with a thatched roof, housing the toy museum. There were wooden model trains, and rocking horses, and the best rocking animal I have ever seen in my life: a rocking squirrel. Tragically, the picture is blurry, but I'm sharing it here anyway, because, well, you have to see it to fully appreciate its awesomeness.

Right? Onward to happiness... riding a squirrel.

We were skipping along through the farmhouse, when suddenly...

Oh, the horror, THE HORROR!!!! The mutant dolls appeared! They gathered on shelves, bodiless and terrifying, plotting to attack the more loved toys around them. And to be honest, we weren't so sure about our safety either. So... we ran away. We saw baby goats, sheep, and cows, big barns, small barns, all thatched and painted beautifully inside. Some of it looked very much like home, especially this window. : ) 

Lovely, no? My favorite house of all was a long brick house with apple trees and a picket fence. Inside, the walls were painted with dancing townsfolk, ships, and flowers. We read a child's study plan (for homeschool) on one of the desks, and his schedule sounded dreamy (and made me feel like a slacker!). He studied German, English, French, Danish, and Latin. Ever Wednesday, he studied Wagner in French and English translation, and he often practiced penmanship (which explained why the writing was so beautiful on the schedule). Maybe I could switch my majors and start up on his study patterns? Although I don't know if I'd be up for quite so much Wagner... I was up and ready to move in, and bring my family with me, of course. : )

My name's on the china cabinet! My name's on the china cabinet!

We finished the adventures with hot chocolate at the dairy and ridiculously large pieces of cherry cake that we could hardly dent.

 

who found her dream house.

Here it is. The only problem with living here is that... well, I would have to be a whale hunter. Actually, I would have to marry a whale hunter.

That would not be cool.

But the house sure is; it's a museum now. The builder put his initials in iron over the front door, and then his sons after him did the same. It's almost on a cliff, and when you look through the white windows, past red geraniums, this is what you see...

All the women would stay in this house while the men went out to catch whales. They sat at the windows, and looked out at the North Sea, and waited. While they waited, they baked, and cleaned, and knitted and made lace and ribbon. There were lace stockings and knitted sweaters and children's nightgowns hung up in the alcove beds. They were just the color of the sheep we passed on the way there. The front entryway had a dutch door, but in Plaat Deutsch, the Dutch-esque dialect that was once spoken here, it's called a chatting door.

This (above) is the dowry chest, in the special party room, where weddings and christenings were celebrated. The light streaming through the window is reflecting off of the sea and shining through with extra brightness, almost like a prism. 

The tiles were all hand-painted here and fired in the oven. Any surface not covered in blue and white tile is painted, like this door, which went from the kitchen into the living room. It's all blue and red and white... like home. : )

After the tour, we spread out across the grass to picnic. We ate Leibniz butter crackers and cheese sandwiches and watched the sky change above our heads.