You can't get there from here

Our lovely little town is on a hill above the Neckar Valley. The Neckar River flows from the Schwarzwald (Black Forest) through our state of Baden-Württemberg and flows into the Rhein (Rhine) River at Mannheim. Horb lies right on the Neckar, down in the valley.  The drive from our house to the Bahnhof (train station) in Horb takes about 5-7 minutes, depending on traffic, or 8-10 minutes by bus.

Baustelle

This weekend, however, we learned that a 4-block section of the heavily-traveled road going through Horb will be closed for badly-needed repairs. Traffic is being re-routed along the top of the hill near where we live, through the countryside and several small villages, to cross the river at the next possible point, just west of town. So the 4km (2.5 mile) bus ride to the Bahnhof will, for the next few weeks, be a 13.4km trip that will take at least 25 minutes.  We could otherwise drive ourselves down there via another route - which the bus can't use because it can't navigate the hairpin turns of the narrow road going down into the valley.  But then we have to pay to park the car all day at the Bahnhof, which can get expensive.

For those of you who know Sheboygan, Wisconsin (where nearly every street is badly in need of repairs!), this route is sort of like going from the Mall to Kohler via Sheboygan Falls. Enlarging the scale, say the road is closed from Milwaukee to Sheboygan, so you have to drive via Madison.

Why can't we just skirt around the closed road, you wonder? In Wisconsin, for example, if 4 blocks of a road are closed, we take a 6-block detour that adds perhaps 45 seconds to our drive. Here, there is one road that goes through Horb over the Neckar. One.

Looking at the map above, we live at point A. The Bahnhof is at point B. The red route shows the road going down into the valley and through Horb. The construction site is near the H (the former location of the hospital that closed down last year).  The blue route shows the 13.4km (8 mile) bus detour on little country roads.

This map shows our other option as well, if we go by car to the Bahnhof. The road marked in red is the usual route, and the blue road to the right (east) cuts the detour down to about 11km (6.8 miles). You can even see the hairpin turns that the bus can't navigate heading down into the valley. This route takes us down into the tiny town of Mühlen, over the Neckar, up the other side of the valley, and through the town of Nordstetten, which is up on the top of the hill opposite our side of the valley. Then we drive down again on the other side of the Neckar to reach the Bahnhof.

There is another road that goes into Horb, but it connects to the main road on the wrong side of the construction, so one still can't get to the Bahnhof. That secondary road gets us to the north side of Horb just left of the H, at the foot of the hill coming down into the valley from Bildechingen, facing another big hill on which sits the Stiftskirche (church), the Marktplatz (market place), houses, and businesses. You can't drive over that hill, though, because, although a narrow winding cobblestone road goes up to the Marktplatz from the north, there is no road going down on the south side. Only footpaths.

Normally this would not really bother us. I can avoid going down into town for months at a time. But my daughter, who is studying in Berlin this semester, is coming for a visit next week and we had planned to take some day trips. Our thought was to take the bus to the Bahnhof and catch a train to wherever we want to go. Now there's no way to plan well, because the bus schedule will be entirely unpredicatable. Martin can drive us down the hill via the secondary road and dump us on the north end of town, and from there we'll walk up the big hill, across the Marktplatz, perhaps stop in the church to pray the construction crew stays on schedule, down the hill through town, and across the river to the Bahnhof - probably a 12-minute walk. This is not a problem, and it's what we'll do. It's rather inconvenient, though, and a bit strenuous for those of us who are more out of shape than we'd like to admit.

The next time you have to take a 6-block detour (and yes, I know it's often more than that), be glad you don't have to completely circumnavigate the entire city to get to your destination!


**Update (17. Sept., 2013): There's a long article in the paper today about this construction and other construction projects in the county going on at the same time, and the ensuing chaos. One line from that article: "Ortsfremde, egal ob sie mit Navi geleitet werden oder nicht, sind aufgeschmissen." Translation: "Drivers unfamiliar with the area, whether they have a GPS or not, are screwed."

Serious Business

Being German must be pretty serious business. I feel like I sometimes stand out like a sore thumb because, being an American, I grin a lot. It's not always sincere, but when I make eye contact with someone I'm passing on one of the many walking paths around here, or do the awkward "shopping cart dance" with an fellow shopper in the grocery store, I tend to at least pull a half-smile.  If someone would let me in front of him in line because he has a cartful and I have just a loaf of bread (granted, that's unlikely to happen here, but still), I'd smile and say "Danke." But I've noticed that few Germans smile at strangers.

Germans are friendly, but in a distant sort of way. They nod at each other or greet each other when passing with a "Morgen" ("[Good] morning") or "Hallo", but they save their smiles for their close friends and family. We Americans have the reputation of being quite friendly and open, and part of that is probably due to the fact that we grin and smile a lot. We smile at strangers, dogs, babies, flowers, and sometimes at nothing at all. This comes across as friendly and happy to some, but vacuous to others. Do we have that much to smile about, or is it just a habit - like asking "How are you?" just as part of a greeting rather than a sincere inquiry?

Every Wednesday morning, as I wrote earlier, a bakery truck comes to our street. Every Wednesday the same 3 or 4 of us neighborhood women gather at the truck to make our purchases. These women, as well as the baker, are friendly, nice, and chatty. As we inhale the aroma of fresh bread and rolls, we talk about the weather, some strange goings-on in the neighborhood, and where someone is who usually comes to the bakery truck. There's plenty of chatter as we exchange pleasantries, but I'm the only one who's smiling. I feel like a feeble-minded dolt - while the others are grumbling about the cold, I'm grinning pleasantly because...there's fresh bakery at my door!!!

I'm learning that one can be pleasant without flashing the whitened pearlies all the time. For those who are not used to this, perhaps it looks like German people - especially the older generations - are unhappy. That's not it. They just save their smiles for times when there's something really worth smiling about.  It's not too unlike our American use of the word "love" vs. the German use of "lieben". We Americans love our parents, our children, our friends, our country, puppies, swimming, chocolate, sunsets, Christmas, our new laptop, a certain football team, lots of movies, and sometimes our job. Germans love their parents, children, and spouses. They enjoy swimming, they like puppies, they do their jobs, they watch movies, and they appreciate sunsets. They reserve "loving" for the people who truly invoke that feeling.  I like that! I hope my children don't feel the same about chocolate as they do about me...  My American bestie and I say "I love and miss you" when we write, but I would never say "Ich liebe dich" to a German friend.

Come to think of it, there's another German phrase that relays the affection one feels for those still in one's inner circle but beyond the parents, children, and spouse: "Ich habe dich gern." That means, if literally translated, "I have you gladly". The intent is, "I like you a lot." The Germans don't throw that phrase around lightly either, though - there is genuine deep affection attached to that phrase.

Our closest friends here - Martin's former landlords - are absolutely the exception to the "being German is serious business" thing. Granted, we're friends, but I think they are friends and friendly with everybody. I can't help but smile when I see them, in part because there are just not that many people I recognize around here, but more because they are some of the friendliest, most out-going and fun people I know. They are ever-ready with smiles, warm greetings, and invitations to join them for a birthday or garden party whenever there's one upcoming.

But back to smiling at strangers. To me, a greeting and a smile go together. I've been trying to learn the German way for the purpose of blending in, but I actually have to concentrate. It's simply a pleasant but emotionless greeting - shouldn't be all that difficult.  Ok, here comes a German man toward me on the sidewalk. He's a generation older than I am, and walking an unmanly-sized dog. If he were walking a collie, I wouldn't be able to restrain myself, but I don't like little dogs and so there's no danger of it bringing on a smile. They keep approaching, I keep walking - same side of the street. Since he's over 60 he's not staring into his Smartphone, but actually looking up. He gets closer, I keep walking, and remind myself to leave my facial expression as it is - which is actually expressionless. Just then he looks directly at me, and as I am about to deliver my rehearsed and grinless "Morgen" (not "Morgen!"), he beats me to it. He nods, and says "Morgen" barely parting his lips.  BAM! That damn smile is there before I can stifle it. "Morgen!" I say as I flash him my friendly American grin. Ugh.

I'll try again tomorrow.

Coming Home

I have noticed that I use the word "home" quite a lot, and a casual listener might be rather confused since I have several different places I refer to as "home".  So I've been thinking often about what home is, what it means, and where it is.

A funny incident happened at the Stuttgart airport a few weeks ago as the Sheboygan and Esslingen students were checking in at the Delta counter for our flight to Wisconsin, which illustrates how the term "home" can lead to confusion. The six Sheboygan students and their chaperone had just finished their three weeks in Esslingen, and the six Esslingen students and I were joining them on the flight back to spend three weeks in Wisconsin. During those silly security questions one is asked before flying into the U.S., one of the Sheboygan students was asked where he packed his suitcase. He said, "At home."  The interrogator asked if he was from Germany, and the lad said, "No, from America."  "Then what do you mean you packed your suitcase 'at home'?" inquired the confused woman.   "Oh," the lad said, "I meant at my German home."  I thought that was precious - after only three weeks, this American boy was already referring to his host family's home as "home".

In my 44 years of life I have lived in thirteen places, including an Air Force base apartment, several houses, a host family's home, a college dorm, a duplex, and a condo.  Martin, in contrast, has lived in four. Although he is just one example, Germans do tend to move around less frequently than Americans. We are both fairly certain that the count stops here, because our next planned move is to a grassy plot in the churchyard several blocks away.

Since I've moved here, I have referred to returning to Wisconsin as "going home" several times. That doesn't feel right, because my home is here now. As soon as I arrive in Wisconsin, "home" is Bildechingen.  Sometimes, though, "home" is my parents' house, where I stay while in Wisconsin.  I might be running errands with my mom when she asks, "Do you want to stop at Kohl's?"  "No," I say, "Let's just go home and get dinner started."  My parents live in a house that was never my home because I never lived there (they moved out of my childhood home about 13 years ago), and yet one definition of "home" for me is where my parents live.

I'd say my hometown is Sheboygan, Wisconsin, because I grew up there. I spent seventeen of my adult years in Fond du Lac, Wisconsin, but now that I have left, I do not feel that town is "home".

So what is "home"?

  "Home is where the heart is."
      Yeah, ok. Too sappy for me. My heart is occasionally buried deep in the Zwiebelrostbraten I'm eating, which is too delicious for description.

  "Home is the nicest word there is." ~Laura Ingalls Wilder
      For many people, maybe. Not so for many, many others.

  "Home is a place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in." ~Robert Frost, "The Death of the Hired Man"
      There's great truth in that one, though again, I don't think it fits as a universal definition.

Perhaps it is just not that easy to define. Some say that home is the people we love. In her novel, What Happened to Goodbye, Sarah Dessen wrote, "“Home wasn't a set house, or a single town on a map. It was wherever the people who loved you were, whenever you were together. Not a place, but a moment, and then another, building on each other like bricks to create a solid shelter that you take with you for your entire life, wherever you may go.” "  I've never read that or any other book by Dessen, but the definition seems appropriate to an extent. However, my parents have a cottage in northern Wisconsin where the immediate and extended family has gathered many times and we've made lots of memories, but I've never called it "home".

In the end, I'd have to say that "home" for me is where I feel I belong. Where I am most comfortable, where the coffee tastes just right, where the bed is the most comfortable, and where love and gratitude thrive.  That, for me, is here in Bildechingen. I appreciate the time I get to spend with family and friends in Wisconsin, the coffee is fine, the bed is comfortable enough, and there is definitely gratitude and love.  But after several trips this year - even day trips to Esslingen - I know that this is my home. I love the view I have of Horb as the train pulls into the station (it's the background image of my blog), and I can't help but grin at the warm fuzzy feeling every time I return. This is our house, our garden, our street, and our town.  And our home.

August Pause/Break

I should have posted this earlier, but for anyone who has been wondering if I have given up on my blog, I have not. I was in Wisconsin for three weeks as a chaperone to six fabulous middle-school students from Esslingen, who took part in the People to People Sheboygan(-Esslingen) Chapter short-stay exchange program.  I was busy with activities with this group, catching up with friends, spending time with family, and doing a little bit of shopping.  I didn't really have time to write, though I gathered a lot of material for future posts.

Right now I am working on recovering from jet lag and trying to fight the strong urge to lie down and nap (so far in two days I have failed four times at that), but soon I'll have another post. It shouldn't be more than a few days.

Rolladen

Today is projected to be the hottest day of the summer in Germany, at least so far. It will get up to 36° (98.6° F) with high humidity. Many are heading to a beach, river, lake, Schwimmbad, or local fountain to cool off, some are filling blow-up pools in their yards, and others toughing it out and going about their regular business.

Central air in public places (including stores, restaurants, and movie theaters) and in homes is not common here, so going shopping on a beastly hot day can be a rather miserable experience for someone like me who hates shopping even when it's a comfortable temperature. So today, I'm pulling a Hemingway and staying home, inside, in the dark, alone.

In our former house in Wisconsin, a day like this would be awful inside without the central air running. The heat permeated through every window and wall of the house. But our house here is made mainly of concrete, and the temperature inside takes longer to change. Granted, it does get very stuffy when the windows are closed, which is why even in the chilliest part of winter we need to turn off the heat and open all the windows for 10 minutes or so to move the air around every few days.

But this blog post is about Rolladen.

If not for the Rolladen, the sun would be heating the bedroom like a sauna

These things are amazing. Judging from the movie "The Holiday," rich people in California have these on their windows, but I never knew anyone in Wisconsin who had them.  "Rolladen" translates to simply "shutters," but they are so much more than the shutters I knew of in Wisconsin, which were decorative rather than functional.  These puppies roll down from a hidden pocket in the wall above the window and close out as much light as I want to. If I want to leave room for some air to get in, I close it most of the way, leaving an inch or so of space at the bottom, which also leaves cracks open between the slats. If I need to sleep in the middle of the day, I can close the Rolladen all the way and make the bedroom dark as a catacomb.

In the living room a little air can get through, but there's not much moving today anyway.

All of our windows have these, so on a day like today, I have closed all of them on the east, west, and south sides of the house, and every room is - at least for the moment - a very comfortable temperature. It's not too warm, and not at all too cold. I swear, the heat and humidity in Wisconsin feels even worse than it is because so many places are chilled like an ice box with air conditioning. I can't go anywhere on the hottest day in Sheboygan without bringing a sweatshirt along, because I feel like a bag of shock-frozen peas when I step through the front doors of a store, restaurant, or friend's house.

I think the body deals better with consistency than extreme and sudden changes. The Germans are convinced of this. Many, many times I have heard Germans say that they frequently get sick in the States in the hot summer, which they attribute to constantly going out into the heat, back into an icebox...out into the heat, back into an icebox.  Just today on the morning news show, people were being interviewed and asked how they will deal with the heat. One woman said it's best to drink warm liquids like tea and coffee because it's less of a shock to the body, and drinking cold beverages makes one sweat more in the heat. I don't know if that's true, but that may very well be why American tourists often say that the beer (and soda)  in Germany is served warm. It's not warm - it's just not chilled to the degree that it is in the U.S..

So anyway, I'll stay inside and relax today (I cleaned the house yesterday, so I don't even have any chores to do except for garden work, which doesn't sound tempting at the moment). I'm keeping the lights off, too, because they produce enough heat to defeat the purpose of keeping the Rolladen down.  I might watch a movie if I can figure out how to turn on the darn system, which has 6 components and 12 remotes...

I'd read, but it's too dark.