Cultural Differences

There are a few cultural differences between southern California and northern Germany, besides the weather. My German family doesn't watch much TV and, as a result, they talk a whole lot more with each other. What a concept! When a sudden rain storm drove us inside from sunning on lounge chairs, we sat in the cozy living room watching the rain through the picture window and talking about, I don't know, everything. At night after dinner, we sat in this same room with a bottle of champagne and talked.

Ate is a very interesting person and experienced World War II. She told us she was 4 years old when Hitler came into power. Everyone was celebrating in the street but when she went home, her mom and dad were depressed and she felt like she had walked into a funeral parlor. Her parents were anti Hitler and told her she must never repeat anything that was said in their house. Friends of theirs who were artists, dentists, concert pianists, disappeared, their homes ransacked. They were never seen again, all because they were Jewish. She brought out maps and showed us how Europe looked before, during and after the war. She said there were a lot of Americans who did good things for Germany after the war, like spending their own money to help rebuild churches that were bombed. A certain Mr. Hoover had provided meals to schools throughout Germany and she remembers how much she and her fellow students appreciated the bowl of soup that was provided every day for lunch by Mr. Hoover. It was called Hooverspeise and there was a different soup every day. She particularly liked the bean soup. Their teacher was rail thin - food was very scarce in Germany at that time - and one day she passed out in class from hunger. The students decided among themselves from then on that they would each give up one ladle of soup so their teacher could have something to eat too. They weren't supposed to do this; it was only meant for the children, but they loved their teacher and wanted to help her. I looked this information up later when I returned home and found out it was our former President Herbert Hoover who had done this. Here is what it says in Wikipedia: "On Hoover's initiative, a school meals program in the American and British occupation zones of Germany was begun on April 14, 1947. The program served 3,500,000 children aged six through 18. A total of 40,000 tons of American food was provided during the Hooverspeisung (Hoover meals)." One afternoon we drove 4 miles to the German/Denmark border. We parked the car by the Baltic Sea and walked across a small wooden bridge into Denmark. It was a very quiet, peaceful place. Two men in a boat floated under the bridge, ducks paddled lazily. A plaque at the end of the bridge commemorates this area of the border which was heavily patrolled by the Danish police during the war. As I looked out over the sun dappled water, I tried to imagine soldiers with rifles marching on the bridge and all the tension and violence that took place in this peaceful setting. What a difference 60 years makes. Every morning I jogged down through a little forest to a beautiful path along the beach and ran along the water, gazing at the Baltic Sea and Denmark.
On the way back, I would stop at the bakery and get fresh rolls for breakfast. When the weather was nice, we ate outside in the garden house which has glass walls overlooking the roses. There was bread, homemade jam, cheeses, meats, and soft boiled eggs in little ceramic egg cups with tiny knit hats to keep them warm. We were never hungry in Germany. Everything was served on linen tablecloths with linen napkins that I never used because I didn't want to get them all greasy and dirty, and the coffee and tea were in silver pots on top of warmers and we ate with the finest silverware and china plates and cups.  We were treated like royalty.  But actually, this is how they eat at every meal.  I'm ashamed to say I use plastic plates and paper napkins at my house.  Another cultural difference.  

Flensburg Here We Come

Our Scandinavian tour was coming to a close but not without one last nail biting adventure. Here was the plan: We leave Stockholm on the early morning train, change trains in Copenhagen and again in Odense, Denmark, then arrive in Flensburg, Germany in the early evening. Is it really too much to ask for things to go as planned??? Yes. All went well until Copenhagen, when the conductor announced that we would have to get off at the airport instead of the central train station because of some construction problems. We were told to take a subway to our destination. Say what?? There was no instruction about how to get to the subway or which one to take. Everyone had to get off the train and we were caught in a wave of confused tourists wondering where to go. I overheard a German man arguing with a subway conductor that he had been rerouted and shouldn't have to pay for a subway ticket. Since we were in the same boat, I stood by saying, "Yeah, same here." The conductor had no knowledge of our dilemma until he got a call on his walkie talkie that confirmed what we were trying to tell him. The German man was traveling with his wife and small kids and was very upset because he was going to miss his connecting train to Hamburg. (see, I'm not the only one! Sometimes.) Turns out we needed to take two different subways to get to our destination. We all piled onto the now overcrowded subway and I latched onto a big Danish dude who seemed very jovial. He said not to worry, he would get off with us and show us how to get to our train. He was big and tall and kind of like a Pied Piper to us confused tourists who followed him around the subway station. He rode with us to the central station and pointed us to the train tracks. Aw, the kindness of strangers... We found our track and as I stood there wondering if the train that had just arrived was ours, a nice woman came up and asked if we were going to Odense. When I said yes she said, "This is your train!" I asked how she knew because I couldn't see the train number and she said, "I ride this train every day." I thanked her and we got on board. Our ticket had a car and seat number assignment. We walked from car to car, looking for the right number. It was a very long train. In exasperation, I found a woman in a uniform, showed her our tickets and asked where our car was. She looked at my ticket and said, "Oh, you're on the wrong train." Just then the train started moving and everyone looked my way as I grabbed her arm and shrieked, "WHAT???" She looked a little frightened of me and said, "Well it still goes to Odense but this is not the train on your reservation. Go ahead and sit anywhere." She seemed a little nervous as she pulled her arm out of my grasp and backed away from me. I relaxed a little and we plunked down in the nearest available seats. Never a dull moment, right? We arrived in Odense a little earlier than planned and I was able to find a direct train that got us to Flensburg at 6 instead of 8. So you see - it all worked out for the better. I called my German "mom" and she was happy to pick us up earlier. It had been 7 years since I had seen her but the passage of time is not so noticeable when you are connected to someone. We greeted each other as if it had only been yesterday. Of course she didn't recognize Kyle, as he had been a little 9 year old boy the last time and was now a tall 16 year old with a stubble of beard. We piled into her little red sports car and drove to her lovely home. The stressful part of our trip was now officially over. From now on we would be well taken care of. We enjoyed a sunshiney afternoon in her park-like yard with her German Shephard, Quinya, and Dachshund, Bernstein. The pug in the picture is Gunther. He was just visiting. Bernstein sat at my feet licking my wounds. Ate (my German Mom) said dog saliva helps wounds heal quicker. Who knew? She said he likes me or he wouldn't be trying to heal me. Nevertheless, it was disturbing.

Please note the lovely sunshine. Sadly this was one of only a handfull of days we would see the sun for the next two weeks.

Stockholm on the 4th of July

Our ship sailed into Stockholm on the 4th of July. Happy Birthday USA. It's weird to be in a foreign country on Independence Day. No BBQ's or fireworks here. Kyle said goodbye to his new Estonian friends from the disco. He spent a good portion of the early morning hours learning the fine art of cross cultural and language communication. The Estonians (a cute girl, her family, and some guys his age) spoke broken English but Kyle listened intently as they described life under Russian rule (they hated it) and Estonian defiance. In particular, thousands of Estonians gathered for a song festival between 1986 and 1991 where they defiantly sang revolutionary songs. This non violent demonstration ultimately led to the country's independence. There is even a movie, The Singing Revolution, which was made about this event. It was a lovely, sunny day and we walked along a beautiful park along the ocean, dragging our luggage behind us. All the locals were enjoying the sunshine, picnicking, playing lawn games, skate boarding. Our hotel was right by this park. We checked in and asked the concierge what we should do during our stay here. He suggested Skansen, an outdoor folk museum. Because the weather was so nice, I wanted to wear Capri pants and cute shoes instead of the same jeans and running shoes I had been slogging around in. My blisters were pretty much healed so I put on my cute, strappy leather sandals. Big mistake, but more on that later. We took a ferry boat over to Skansen which is lovely and full of history and interesting things to see.

All the houses, churches and buildings are as they were hundreds of years ago. There was also an area for the local animals in their natural habitat. We saw reindeer, a wolverine, eagle owls and a gray seal. Red squirrels ran rampant and seemed almost tame, coming right up to us as if they expected handouts. I was mildly surprised when one stared at me with soulful eyes and in a high, squeaky voice said, "Bread please". (OK not really. Just checking to see if you were paying attention. They speak Swedish there, remember?) We walked all over the place and my feet were starting to smart. Damn. We sought out a nice Italian restaurant in the old town area and by this time I was limping again. I glanced down and was appalled to see blood seeping through the leather straps and running down my big toe. Well, that's attractive. The straps had sliced into my toe. No wonder my feet hurt. I was forced to break out the band aids again and forget about wearing cute shoes for a while. Again. The next day we found another park in the center of town with fountains and statues. Numerous cafes surrounded an area with water where children laughed and played. It seemed all of Stockholm was there to enjoy a lunchtime break. We took a boat cruise which went through a couple of locks and under bridges. The locks were so interesting - stone walls closed in front and in back of our boat and the water level rose to empty us from the Baltic into Malmo Lake and on the way back to the Baltic, the lock's water level dropped to spill us back out onto the sea. A recorded narrator explained the sights along the way. I was sad to see and hear about the asylum where the lepers and insane were sent in the 17 and 1800s. There was also a spot memorialized with a giant wooden keg where Absolut vodka had its distillery. After the cruise, we took the subway to Sodermalm, an area Kyle had read about in one of Stieg Larsson's books. We found a music store called Hellstone which was old and funky and fun. The owner said he had opened the store fifty years ago when he was 5 (teehee). Kyle plucked on a guitar for a while and got a t shirt that says Go to Hell Stone. Kyle loved Stockholm. He thought the people were friendly, enjoyed its beauty with its many islands and waterways, and is contemplating going to school here sometime in the future. We climbed an impossibly steep stairway in the side of a hill which led to a restaurant high above the city with sweeping views. It was sadly too expensive for our budget, but we got some good photos and enjoyed our last Swedish meal at an outdoor restaurant in the center of town. Back at our hotel, we were amused by an interesting show on TV. It was sort of sci fi, something about human looking robots (with perfect bodies) used as servants who were trying to take control. The thing is, the show was in Danish with Swedish subtitles. Because Kyle had learned a few words here and there, we were able to get the gist of what was going on. It was so intriguing and had some humorous parts too. We were bummed we would never find out what happens to those good looking robots. Goodbye Stockholm. Sure was fun. This also was the end of our Scandinavia tour. Next stop - Germany.

Tallinn, Estonia

We only had a few hours to enjoy this historic city and did so armed with bus passes and Rick Steve's Scandinavia book. We followed his walking tour through the old part of town, reading interesting tidbits as we strolled along. It's a lot more fun to know something about what you're looking at - makes it come more alive - and Rick Steves is very informative. Bricked over windows in a church courtyard have no meaning until you learn that prisoners were held here before being shipped to their deaths in Siberia. He tells you exactly where to go,the most interesting sights, and the historical significance of them. Estonia was ruled by communist Russia for 45 years after World War II until the fall of the USSR in 1991. We took a bus tour with narration around the city but, honestly, this put us both to sleep. We returned to the lovely and interesting old town area and ate lunch in the town square. The cobble stoned square is surrounded by numerous outdoor cafes, the city hall, and a pharmacy built in 1422. Kyle ate Russian pancakes which were thick and covered with mushrooms. I don't think that was what he was expecting but they must have been good because he ate them. After that we went into the pharmacy which is a museum as well as a working pharmacy. Ancient herbs and remedies are displayed in a glass case and they also sell modern drug store items. I bought more bandaids. We hiked up to the Danish King's Garden, a lovely park where you can see part of the remaining town wall and the city below.

Of course we had to climb the 142 steps of the spiral stone staircase in the church tower for a breath taking (literally) view before we headed back to our ship. We decided to walk instead of taking the bus and we strolled along for a while until we started getting concerned because it was farther than we thought. We looked nervously at our watches as we approached the harbor and then realized we had come to a dead end! This meant we had to do a lot of back tracking on legs that felt like rubber anyway from the 142 stone stairs. Then we had to jog a little so we wouldn't miss our boat AGAIN. I mention this, dear friends, only because this stuff only happens to me. You can laugh at my expense. Yes, we made it back to the ship in time, had our last, fabulous buffet dinner and did a pub crawl the rest of the night. Mr Bulgaria was playing at the Seapub again and we were happy to see him. He took requests and played everything from Swedish and Bulgarian folk songs to John Denver, Bon Jovi, Johnny Cash, Credence Clearwater, Soundgarden, Metallica, Led Zeppelin, you name it. He held his mike out for the audience to join him in the chorus and said, "Hey, I'm rich!" when people put coins in his jar. A group of well lubricated young Estonians were sitting up front and got him to play a couple of encores.

Then we wandered into the Sea Palace where the Pink Panther Band was playing dance music. When they went on break, we were entertained by a group of dancers with an Olympic theme. Kyle thought it was hilarious when the dancing girls threw hoola hoops high in the air and broke part of the chandelier which sent glass raining down on their heads. Then we moseyed over to the Kereoke bar where a group of drunk teenage Estonians were singing with relish. One young man chose an Estonian song with a melancholy tune and the video showed a picture of chickens above the words he was singing. The DJ, who was also quite amusing, put his arm around the young man when he was done singing and said, "That was a very interesting song. Could you tell us what it's about? We saw chickens?" The young man said it was about a hard working farmer, then got embarrassed and didn't know what else to say. A disco on the top floor opened its doors at midnight until the early morning hours. Outside, the sun was still setting. It never got dark the entire night.

Trains, Trauma, Lockers, More Trauma, Angels, Ships

It's amazing how many things can go wrong in one day. Guess I shouldn't be surprised by this any more, but no matter how hard I try to make things go smoothly, something dumb always happens. When we returned from our wonderful, unexpected evening in Flam, I immediately went to the ticket office and changed our ticket to Stockholm for the following morning. I quizzed the girl at the counter to make sure we were leaving on the 7 AM train. This was important because we had a ship to catch that afternoon. Her attitude was indifferent and I had the distinct impression she didn't like me very much, but she assured me we were on the 7 AM train which arrived in Stockholm at 1 PM. So imagine my surprise when we got to the train station at the crack of dawn and the conductor looked at my ticket and said, "No, this ticket is for the afternoon train." What?? NO!! We're supposed to be on the early morning train - the afternoon train will get us there too late and we'll miss our ship to Estonia! In a panic, I snatched the ticket out of his hand and raced back up the stairs to the ticket office which (of course) wasn't open yet. I stood impatiently for 15 minutes, staring through the glass wall at the employees milling around. Could they really not see the distraught traveler with her face pressed against the glass? Obviously I needed immediate help. When the doors finally opened, I bolted inside and told the clerk my sad story and how I really, really needed to be on the morning train. He said, "Well let's see if it's sold out or not." For several nail biting minutes, I watched him search his computer, my eyes boring into his skull while silently chanting, "You will find a place for us. This will all turn out OK." My mind control seemed to work and with the proper tickets in our hands, we were finally on our way to Sweden. Whew. Trains are a great way to see the country and we rolled along past pristine lakes and green fields, enjoying the beauty of Sweden for the next five hours. We arrived in Stockholm in the early afternoon and had a few hours to kill before heading to the ship. Dragging our luggage through the train station, we noticed some lockers where we could stash our bags while sightseeing. We asked a nice man how the lockers worked, and he indicated that you simply put your belongings in the locker and turned the handle to lock it. Piece of cake. We put everything in a nice big locker and walkled to the Gammla Stan (old town) area. This was my favorite part of Stockholm, with its ancient buildings and narrow, cobbled streets. We found an inviting coffee shop with a warm, wonderful atmosphere. Tourists from all over the world had written glowing comments on the walls inside the cafe. We sat on cushiony chairs and Kyle swore this place had the best pastries ever. We decided to come back again and continued on our tour. We followed twisty, turning streets and alleyways and when it was time to head back to the station and the lockers, we realized we were a little bit lost. We had forgotten to leave breadcrumbs to trace our way back, darn it. Luckily, after quizzing a few people, we found our way back and went to retrieve our things. But of course it wasn't that easy. To our dismay, we realized there was a step we had failed to perform in the luggage stowing transaction. You were supposed to go to go a TV screen in the middle of the row of lockers, pay money and receive a code to get your things back. Oops. I tried calling a phone number on the screen but the instructions were all in Swedish. What the...? A very nice Swedish man, let's just call him an angel, tried to assist me. He went to an office across the hall but nobody there knew anything about the lockers. He came back a few minutes later shaking his head and said, "I'm sorry. I can't help you." I raced back up to the tourist information office where I had to take a number and hopped from one foot to the other while waiting my turn. Mr. Swedish Angelman suddenly appeared by my side and spoke Swedish to the clerk and reassured me that everything would be OK. The clerk told me what I should have done and I said, I know I know but I've never done this before, blah blah. He called someone on the phone and said they would meet me downstairs. Mr. Angel accompanied me back down the escalator and I told him how much I appreciated his help. He said he was a retired subway driver and had plenty of time. Back downstairs, he flagged the worker over to our locker and to my great relief the worker told me this happens a lot. I was happy to know I wasn't the only dork in the world. With the locker open and another disaster avoided, I was flooded with emotion and gave Mr. Angel a great big hug. I was so relieved, it was all I could do to keep from blubbering all over him. He was so nice to help two strange foreigners and I know I will never see him again, but wherever you are Mr. Swedish Angelman, thank you so much for helping us out that day. We took a train to the ship dock and got there just in time. I told Kyle I had had more than enough excitement that day and we headed to the lounge. We enjoyed another sumptuous dinner buffet, listened to dance bands, kereoke, and an excellent guitar player from Bulgaria. Our ship cruised past the many islands and archipelagos of Sweden, into an never ending sunset. Next stop: Estonia.