Saturday, April 26, 2008
Boy, did we luck out onTHAT one. Who would want to play for the Biggleswad Bruins I ask you?
Monday, April 7, 2008
SAINT TRUDPERT … now that one had me scratching my head. Not since my encounter with St. Charles Borommee in Paris last year had I been stumped by a Saint’s name. Well it turns out Trudpert’s story is a little foggy, but it seems he was a Celtic monk who ran a mission here in near Munstertal in the seventh century. But we are not sure WHEN he lived here, or WHAT his mission was or IF it was successful. We do know that he died on April 26 and that date is commemorated in a local celebration.
April 6, 2008
It felt a bit like making the Stations of the Cross as we read story after story of the dark days in early February 1945 as the Allies rained bombs on this town. The living would emerge in the night time and gather in the cemeteries to bury the dead. Soon the cemeteries had to be enlarged.
But all was festive this afternoon during the afternoon street fair. There was a full band set up in front of the Rathaus.
Hunter treated me to my first Curry Wurst which he remembers fondly from years ago. (Quite frankly, it is basically a hot dog in ketchup with curry sprinkled on top … a little strange, but I played along) The fountains in town had not been turned on for the summer season yet, so they set up bars in the middle of the fountains and you would just belly up to the edge of the fountain for your taste of local wine. (Now this IS a good idea …)
I had only slept two hours on the flight over and by the time we arrived in front of the hotel that was not there, I had been up for 34 hours straight. Many thanks to the German woman who looked at our paper work and informed us that in fact we were at the right address, but in the wrong town. We had a hotel in the town of Staufen im Breisgau NOT Freiburg im Breisgau. I was only getting the loose gist of this conversation between her and Hunter most of which was being communicated to me by the deep disappointment on Hunter’s face. He knew he had a sleepless time bomb on his hands. I could not wait for his translation. In desperation I heard myself say to the woman, “wieviel kilometer, bitte?”
So back into the dark and stormy night we went, and a half hour later landed in the charming village of Staufen im Breisgau. We found our way into the hotel restaurant hungry and exhausted at 10 pm and found the crowd was just warming up to the evening. I lifted a dry Reisling to Hunter’s local draft Furstenberg and we settled in to a delicious meal . After dinner, as the clock approached midnight we wandered out into the square to sounds of a private party singing “Wundabar” through the open window of the restaurant. Alles gemutlich !!