Week 15 & 16 & 16.5: Wonder Bread
Frohes Neues Jahr ! All the love to those who were part of 2022 and more joy for the forthcoming year.
Order Up
The days are finally getting longer and the time between posts but to the delight, I am sure, of all readers, I am resolving myself that these posts will be shorter in 2023.
Sticking with the sandwich theme in the new year still seems apt as the majority of every single meal since December 22nd has been…bread. Good bread, thankfully, and none of the terrifying Wonder White Bread but also, cheese. And bread that was crowned with cheese.
God save the cheese.
There is nothing that strikes the fear of God in me more than ordering food or trying to decide what to eat. So when I went to a burger joint before I left for the Bodensee (in southern Germany near the Swiss border), I panic ordered and asked for everything on it—even ketchup. So you’re getting everything in a scattering, a spattering, assortment of the things I did these last two and now two and a half weeks.
The Bread
Top Slice: The weeks were simply put, wonderful as I saw friends who are like family, and mountains instead of flatland. From Bremen to Dortmund to Überlingen to Basel to Bambergen to Bludenz and back again, there was so much to celebrate. Apologies, however, for all the B- alliteration and centring this post around Flowers, the company that owns Wonder Bread and is definitely not B-corp certified. Jokes aside, so so so grateful for all those who generously hosted me. Thank You.
Bottom slice: I am en route to Morocco right now to see a dear friend from Bowdoin and ironically, from Iowa. Eleanor speaks both Arabic and French and was the first friend I met in the Outing Club and a major reason I stuck with it—ironically I felt at home talking about the cornfields with her in the middle of Maine. I am sure we will be talking about that more but am mostly looking forward to hearing about her time teaching, eating phenomenal food, poking around and perhaps purchasing some spices, and long walks. I am scheduling visits to see friends in the final two months in Europe and then going home to hug the dad with the biggest heart—literally.
This guy just had a big surgery and is recovering so send good vibes his way!
The Filling
On the 22nd of Dec, I took the train to Bremen and had some quality time with Hanna, as in, I sat at her kitchen table, ate her Christmas cookies, and wrote my final term paper until 3am. Thankfully, I was asleep on the entire ten hour drive south. We all stopped in Dortmund to drop off Hanna and her boyfriend, Mounir’s kitten, Luna. Mounir’s family is Syrian and his mom lives in Dortmund and for our stop made the most delicious dish, Fatteh; a brunch dish of yoghurt sauce over flatbread and chickpeas and pomegranate seeds and tons of different spices. I will be attempting it when I am back in Iowa.
When we made it to Überlingen, I felt my body relax. It has been around seven years since I have seen my host mom, Sabina, and it felt very familiar despite the passing of time. I so appreciate her gregariousness, driving energy, decisiveness, and honestly, most of all, bluntness. All our conversations often devolved from politics to travels and switched somewhat elegantly (at least for the Rosebrock family) between German and English—a beautiful emulsion of Denglish and thoughtful conversation that went beyond small talk.
On Christmas Eve we attended Gottesdienst in a neighbouring town called Nußdorf. It was an outside ceremony that had started during the pandemic for safety, but has continued. The main star is a tractor that pulls the nativity scene from town to town. Nußdorf was the third stop and baby Jesus got a BIG baptism from the rain and so did the small cluster of people without umbrellas who sang along with, I hate to say it, a subpar brass band. Definitely not the Canadian Brass Ensemble dad blasts at home every year.
The pastor was a jolly fellow who forgot the reading for the day and sprinted like a raven, robes billowing, to the parking lot to retrieve it. He ended up reading it from his iPhone and even better, forgot part of the Lord’s Prayer while leading the group. It was honestly, the best service I have been to except there was no bread —communion is a no-go when baby Jesus rolls away on a wagon.
But there was so much wine and bread back home. We had raclette which I have had three times in one month and more than in my entire life. Even when I was in Switzerland in March I did not consume it. The next day, I dropped down to Basel, Switzerland for the day and apparently Basel is part of Germany, Switzerland, and France. I got my art fix for the end of the year at Fondation Beyeler and in the massive, three building Kunstmuseum Basel. For those who don’t know, Basel is one of THE places for art nerds and dealers. Art fairs like the annual Art Basel show account for more than 30% of the entire gross salary of a gallery. My entire gross salary is pitiful and Switzerland is too expensive. Wonderful. And more than 30% of my meal that day was bread. Morning bread, lunch bread, and surprise, a loaf for dinner. Wonderful for my wallet.
Less bread at the Försters, but more board games and potatoes. And soup. I love soup and every new year’s resolution is to eat more soup. Easy. We took a quick spin to Freiburg to get Neel a winter coat and I slept the entire car ride. I have a very low tolerance for shopping and had flashbacks to when I went to Munich with my exchange student, Kathi from 2017, and we shopped for ten hours. So I had been hoping to sit and read all day, but Freiburg was so busy that every cafe was overflowing. No chance to acquire a spot. Neel had no desire to acquire a coat so instead of searching we ate 3 plates of Afghani food and had no shame telling a disappointed Frauke, the coat mission was abandoned in the first two hours.
The next day I hopped on a train en route to Austria to hang out with my friend Paul and his family. They spend time in the Alps in a rustic cabin over breaks or the weekends to be in the mountains and ski, but the alarmingly warm winter in Europe was evident. There was not an inch of natural snow on the ground until you got much, much higher. And by much, I mean a two hour hike straight up.
Paul and I were car-less most of the time so trekked up the road to some restaurants to avoid doing homework (I have so many assignments due after I get back from Morocco) and he has a big exam to study for in September. I was not motivated but he doesn’t really have a choice. Ah the lives of a to-be lawyer and a leisure studies art history major. We consumed an inordinate amount of cheese and bread as we had no desire to make the 1.5 hour trek to nearest market and when fruit appeared with the arrival of his mom and youngest sister, I think I felt more reborn than the food baby I had post cheese-fondue.
In all sincerity, I am so grateful to the Meistermanns for their generosity, warmth, and just being able to have a restful co-existence with friends I see at the most, twice a year. And snuggling and walking with a sprightly puppy!
And winning Yahtzee, a game I dislike just about as much as shopping, 6-0.
The Sauce
I promised myself I would not panic about my protein intake this year, but felt insecure when Hanna’s now big banker 19-year old brother whipped out the tax law book and protein shake between meals. I couldn’t justify drinking it, however, since I didn’t go to the gym on Christmas Eve to get gains nor do I pay taxes to Germany. Good for Lars.
A friend asked me if I ever sit still as I scheduled myself back to back for a long climb the morning after I got back to Hamburg. Yes. I can. I slept the entire train ride from Überlingen to Basel, Überlingen to Bludenz, and Bludenz to Hamburg which was a ten hour trip. I got home to Hamburg at 7pm and went to bed at 9pm. I blame it on the protein since I felt as weak as wonder bread after two weeks of no climbing.
However, I always get anxious about not moving enough during holidays which is not always realistically or healthy. So I did a lot of intentional wandering which led to wondering about future paths for myself and people in my past while trying to run up a mountain for the first day of 2023 and overthinking until I slipped and became a mud splattered mess.
I have no problem losing my dignity but I hate losing people in my life. And the year has already started with some hard conversations about uncertainty and futures that were dreaded, but necessary. So I dragged myself to the pool to swim despite hating the metric system and 50m lanes, but tried out a new beautiful one which I was so grateful to have forced myself to do—water always calms me.
Things like this, movement and greetings and meetings of friends again especially ground me and to be grounded is a gift to stay in the present. Even though gift is a false friend in German and actually means poison so I am trying not to overthink that and not trying to overthink where I might live or study next. Switzerland has a brilliant art scene that pays their art dealers or curators well, (a reason I also visited Basel) but is really, not very diverse at all. Which brings me back to a funny phrase that popped out of a friend’s mouth when we were searching for snow—“I wish everything was white.” Don’t overthink it.
Mystery Meat
Say no to rats and meat. Say yes to mystery.
