Postcard from Europe #5: Love blossoms in unlikely places

This is yet another post from the time when I was living in Germany and traveling around trying to visit every corner of Europe before my return back to US...

This post is not about me or my experiences.  Rather it is the story of the parents of a fellow traveler.  But I was so fascinated by it that it is etched deep in my memory and even today I continue to marvel at it.

I was returning back to Frankfurt on an overnight train from Italy.  A Norwegian girl on the train asked me if the train would stop in Darmstadt (a town south of Frankfurt).  "No", I said, "This is an express train.  But you should have no problem getting a train from Frankfurt.  Why do you want to go there?"  "My grandparents live there".

Now, I was really confused.  Why would a Norwegian girl have grandparents in Germany?  That too so far from Norway?  Something didn't quite add up.  I was definitely not going to dig up a sleeper cell but I didn't stifle my curiosity and asked.  And here is what she said:

My dad was drafted into the German army during World War II when he was a teenager and ended up fighting and getting captured in Norway.  He was in the POW camp when he fell really sick.  Horribly sick.  My mom was a volunteer nurse and it was her job to keep checking on my dad and giving him medicine.  When the war ended, my mom made sure he got sent with a big supply of medicine (he was still not well).  Later, she sent him a care package with more medicine and he wrote to her thanking her.  Later still, he wrote to her that he was now well and hoped to get admission in a university.  Her mom prevailed upon her own father (who happened to be a university professor in Norway) to give this boy admission...

To this day, I cannot explain any of it.  It is such a strange happening - two people on either side of an insanely murderous war find love with each other.  I have wondered what happened to her dad at the university in Norway.  Did he have to hide the fact that he was German?  Did the fellow Norwegian students shun him?  Did his love for this girl/woman keep him going when his spirits were down?  Or was he glad to escape from a ruined country that seemed to have no future?

Either which way, I salute the parents of this girl.  As for the girl, I left her at Frankfurt central train station after making sure she knew which train to take.  I had to get back to the office, it was already 8am!

Postcard from Europe #4: Where did the Wall go?

Another of my posts about the time I was running all over Europe on weekends...

But first, the background. It was a fall day in 1989 in Iowa City, home to my alma mater, The University of Iowa. I hadn't had time to read any news in about a week so after dinner, I went to the TV Room to see what was happening. I remember switching on the TV and Garrick Utley's face appeared, saying "... believe it or not, ... the Berlin Wall is coming down."

What? Surely this must be a joke! Berlin Wall was right up there with the Great Wall of China and Eiffel Tower! One does not go about in daily life knocking down one of the global constants!

Anyways, a few years later I was working in Frankfurt and one weekend I decided to go to Schwerin, the capital of Mecklenburg-Vorpommern, the state that encompasses the entire northern tier of the ex-East Germany. It is a picturesque city surrounded by a state that feels like Minnesota - lots of lakes, rivers, stiff wind blowing from the north and very sparsely populated.

When I got there, I found that the people of Schwerin were busy trying to undo 40+ years of neglect under Communist rule. They were busy fixing roads, sidewalks, train stations and the like. If you did not keep an eye firmly fixed to the ground, there was a good chance you would run into a protective barrier (this is Germany after all).

That evening I had an even bigger surprise in store. At the youth hostel, I met a couple from ex-East Germany. We ended up playing Trivial Pursuit - German language edition. One of the questions was "In Berlin, U1 [subway] line runs between which two stations?"*

You would expect that this question would be straightforward to answer. However, this question took the most time during the entire evening! First the guy wanted to know when the game was printed. That is when I came to know that U1 line existed before the division of Berlin and each side had their own version of U1 line and a unification of the Berlin subway system was underway. There was quite a bit of arguing around which stations were on U1. Here was a couple who had lived in Berlin as students and had used the subway system to go everywhere and they got really busy recounting all the stations they had used and which ones had tricky exits and they recounted the stores that they had patronized that no longer existed.

That is when I realized how completely the Wall had fallen. In a little over 3 years, this young couple had started to forget their own daily lives to the point that they were forgetting the brands of various daily staples!

Many years later, I saw Good Bye Lenin! As I laughed with the movie, I deeply wished that I had that couple sitting next to me. They would have laughed with me but I feel that they would have had a good cry too...

* I am writing this from memories almost 2 decades old. I am quite confident that there are some errors in my memories...

Postcard from Europe #3: The Clinton Dividend

Another post from the time in the early 90s when I was working in Germany and traveling on weekends...

16 years back, I was in Bordeaux for a weekend. I was in the mood for some local food. The lady who ran the Youth Hostel knew that my French was limited to "Parle vous Anglais?" so she said "I know this place but..."

Well, I ended up going there, a tiny, tiny place that was filled with regulars. The only one who knew English was the waitress, Marie, whose entire length and breadth of High School English was tested when I asked her to explain what was on the fixed-price menu. She ended up dragging me into the kitchen and showing me the actual vegetables and meats and furiously scribbling down the words as I told her the names in English. Throughout a delectable 6 course meal, the regulars and I had an odd conversation - single words traded back and forth to appreciate and enjoy the food and the wine we were served.

When the meal ended and Marie had a little bit more time, the questions came in more complete form and the conversation turned to the Bill Clinton. You see, just 3 weeks before, Bill Clinton was elected the President of United States. He had really piqued the interests of these folks in Bordeaux. They felt they understood him. They were also quite confused how he could be elected with only 43% of the votes.

That started a whole new conversation on electoral college and the curious way that America held its elections. In the end, when I got up to pay, the owner of the place gave me a hefty 15 Franc discount on 50FF meal and didn't charge for all the wine I drank - because I was so patient with the questions. I call that discount my "Clinton Dividend". I yearn for another such dividend...

Bullfight in Madrid

Recently, I was in Madrid on vacation. Despite my reservations, I was cajoled into going to a bullfight. I have always maintained that bullfights are barbaric (though I am a carnivore...). Lacking any knowledge of Spanish (except for a few tourist words and phrases), I was lucky to receive a booklet (with our tickets) which explained the process of a bullfight in 5 languages. And my neighbors on both sides were unlucky to have a decent knowledge of English language...

After seeing the entire bullfight process (6 bullfights in total), I have reached a different conclusion - Bullfights are barbaric not because a bull gets killed but because the entire process is about slaughter. The bull doesn't stand a chance. Let me explain:

First, the torero (matador) enters the ring with 3 assistants. Then, the bull enters. He is very energetic and a dangerous 1100+ pound animal at this stage. The torero and his assistants make the bull run around the ring before a horseman on a fully padded horse shows up to lance the bull in the nape. Then, either the torero or his assistants stick 3 pairs of barbs in the bull's nape. These steps are not without danger but after being lanced, the bull strength is being sapped through blood loss. Then, the matador uses his cape to make the bull charge again and again till it is time to finish the game. The matador thrusts a sword into the same nape wound and usually, the bull falls a few seconds later. Then the bull is dragged off by a team of horses.

While many may feel that it is exciting (and certainly many do by the crowds at the bullring), I felt that it was just stylized slaughter. It would be much more fun to watch if the bull had a chance to live to fight another day. My vision goes something like this:

Skip the horseman. There is no challenge. Next, make the matador and his assistants stay within the central circle (often they would run out into narrow wooden slits made in the side walls to escape the charging bull). If they go out of the central circle, they are out of the game. Also, if they lose their cape (it happened twice when I watched), out they go. I believe these changes would make for a more exciting match. Yes, the match would also get more dangerous but then again, this is not a game for the cowards. The flow would definitely change but it would also be more relevant for the era we live in.

Just some food for thought...