Germany, here we come!

It took us 26 hours door to door. It’s a drag, but I don’t mind. All the shopping and eating you can do at the airport, all the reading and watching, talking and walking: all is good!

Munich is a nice airport to arrive: it is modern, bright, light, clean, everything works, everything makes sense. German efficiency. Kind of the opposite of the Frankfurt airport, which I would title: German inefficiency / what were they thinking? But that is another story and that’s why I try to avoid Frankfurt. So I booked a flight from San Luis Obispo to Los Angeles and from there directly to Munich. And we enjoyed every minute of it! We had great seats, lots of legroom, (relatively) good food, we had good talks, we watched good movies [OMG: “The Zone of Interest”. What a great movie about Germany’s worst time in history, written out of a perspective you’ve never seen before].

And then we arrived, had another hour car drive until we were at our final destination: the house I grew up in, where I spend my childhood, where I walked or biked to school from, where my sister and I shared a room in the attic, a room that took 7 years for my busy dad to finish. Up there it is very cold in the winter and brutally hot in the summer. I guess, I know that my parents didn’t have much money back then, so they must have saved money on insulation materials. But it was always like that, maybe that’s why I don’t like winter or wet, cold weather. Up there in the attic, the winter is inside, the wet, cold weather is crawling under your blanket and barely anything can keep you warm. Except the furnace and that is too small for the room. But here we are again! And every time I arrive I feel like arriving in my childhood again. I participate as if I never left. And today I baked bread…

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And that bread has a funny story: just before we left California I had asked my friend Kimberly if she could give me some of her sourdough, since mine had died. Sure, no problem, and since both our husbands wanted to meet for lunch that day, it was an easy transition to get her sourdough over to our house. Except that it was another hot day in Paso Robles, except that the marmalade jar that contained the sourdough was very full, except that Ted put this jar in his cargo pocket of his shorts, except that he and his friend went to wine tasting after lunch, until….. until Ted felt something crawling down the side of his leg. The leg closest to the cargo pocket with the sourdough jar. Can’t blame it: it was hot and it was bored inside! So the sourdough made it into the cargo pocket until that was full and out and down that sexy leg. Fortunately there was enough sourdough left to take to Germany. Inside a ziplock bag, that was inside another ziplock bag, that was inside a plastic drink bottle, that was inside a plastic bag, that was inside my suitcase. No leakage here, you just need to be professional! The sourdough survived and got to be transformed into this delicious bread! Not that we need to bake our own bread here in Germany because Germany is famous for having quite a few varieties. 3200 to be precise! The sourdough has to make it to Italy, that is known for pizza and pasta. Not for bread, especially not for dark, wholegrain, hearty, healthy bread. So I’ll bake my own. And that’s why I brought my sourdough – or whatever was left in Ted’s cargo pocket…..

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Garbage

Spending a few weeks in Europe make you realize what a wasteful society we are here in the US. Is it a picnic in the park, gatherings with friends, a potluck get-together – we use plastic cutlery, paper plates, plastic cups. Buying a bucket of coffee at Starbucks will leave you with a bucket size paper cup, or doubled paper cup with a plastic lid of course.

We are in Miami for a few days before our next adventure. Our hotel is nice, clean, modern. The rooms are spacious, everything you need is provided. Breakfast is included and it’s ok. Scrambled eggs, waffles and that kind of stuff you expect there to be.

And everything is served with plastic cutlery, paper plates and paper bowls and cups. At the end of breakfast time, towards 10am, it looks like that:

Angst / Fear

I’m not afraid of flying. It’s not my favorite form of transportation, the check in and out, the hustle and bustles, all those people, etc. I just don’t enjoy it. The tight space inside the air plane, economy meaning child size seating and no legroom, nothing really appeals to me. And then the overhead space for carryon luggage: I stick to the rule to have one carryon. Sometimes it is a backpack, a basket, or a small rolling carryon suitcase. And that’s it. But I hate it when people show up with a carryon, a big shopper, and 3 huge paper bags from the @%# outlet stores where they needed to spent the last money they had left from vacation. And that’s when the overhead compartments get too small. And that’s when the stewardess gets involved, shifting things from A to B, then taking smaller bags / backpacks out to accommodate the outlet bags + suitcase + shopper combo. And that smaller backpack is usually mine, so I’m asked to put my bag underneath the seat in front of me, meaning I will not have any legroom for the entire flight as a punishment for somebody else overpacking. I’m not a complainer, but with a situation like that, I do complain, which is swept away in the hectic of boarding a plane and getting everybody and everything stuffed inside. They make me be the bad person, the complainer, although I was the one following the rules, but getting punished for it. So here you go, I’m not afraid of flying, I just don’t like it.

My carryon

Being afraid and having fear is a different story. Being afraid is more a general emotion, usually without a specific reason. You’re afraid of flying in general, because it might get bumpy. Having fear is more specific. Having fear for your life is connected to an incident. And that happened on my flight over from Europe to the US.

Halfway over the Atlantic, 3 hours away from the closest airport, a passenger decided to ignore the non-smoking sign and went to the bathroom, smoking inside. The sprinkler alarm went on, flooding the whole bathroom. And it didn’t stop. The bathroom was filled with water, over spilled into the cabin, etc. the stewardesses and stewards kept running back and forth, trying to take control. They even used those coffee pots they usually offer tea and coffee with to scoop up water, so here you go: don’t drink coffee or tea on an airplane! You never know what they used it before they made coffee for you….. This whole incident took ~45min before it was under control.

15 or 20 minutes later the pilot interrupted the entertainment program and gave a 5 min speech. I didn’t understand a single word, since it was in Spanish, but I paid attention because he sounded very serious, his voice trembling, almost as if he had cried. This was different, more serious than any pilot speech I ever heard. Everybody on the plane was listening, nobody said a word, people looked shocked. And I had fear. I didn’t know what it was about, I had no idea that it was connected to the smoker in the bathroom, I just was in a “shit, why did I never learn Spanish” state of mind. All different scenarios galloping through my brain, for example the murder/suicide in 2015, where a copilot locked the pilot out of the cabin and crashed the airplane into a hillside in southern France. All 150 people died. I had the flashback and thought that this will end up in a similar way, that our pilot is doing the same. Whom should I write a message now? How much time do we have? Why? That can’t be it! It took several minutes, that seemed like an hour or so, until another person tried to explain what had happened in broken English. Part of it I experienced first hand, sitting on the aisle seat 3 rows behind the restroom. The second part I tried to understand. Apparently the sprinkler system didn’t stop, therefore we were very close to an emergency landing 3 hours away from the next airport. Not a fun idea. The person smoking will be found and hit with a $2000 fine, on top of a criminal investigation, because their action risked the lives of a few hundred people.

But that flight wasn’t bad the entire time. I hadn’t realized that Air Europe was a cheap budget airline, not providing any food or drinks, not even on international flights. So I ended up very hungry and thirsty. On the airlines’ website I saw an option to preorder food, so I just gave it a try. Unfortunately the order didn’t go through, so I tried it again: a rice bowl and a water. Again, didn’t go through. Darn! The surprise came 5 minutes later in form of a tray, topped with a rice chicken mix, gazpacho, dessert, and a glass of water. Very impressive! And very tasty!!! I had just finished every bit of it, when the steward came back and told me that he accidentally gave me the tray that was meant to be given to another person, embarrassing! And I had thought this was my rice bowl with some water! Little did I know. Another stewardess came, telling me the same thing, trying to make me be more embarrassed! And then another steward stopped by and did the same thing: the classic guilt trip! So what should I do? Give it back??? How? My seat neighbor had a good laugh, I felt embarrassed but well fed. The steward came back and asked for my order confirmation (that I didn’t have), he came back another time to check how I actually had ordered and so on. At that point I joined my neighbor laughing. Just wait and I’ll give it back…..

Altmühltal (Bavaria)

It’s a very easy recipe: a beautiful area (Altmühltal) + great company (my brother Jürgen) + a cute little convertible = a daytrip filled with fun, great talks, memories, connections! Very, VERY special!!!

We saw interesting buildings, for example a church built of willows. It was planted in 2009 and is growing since. We were lucky to watch a wedding ceremony there, just in time before the next rain shower!

We also saw a few interesting animals, some a few days old, others a few million years old:

Enjoying this beautiful day and exchanging stories from the time way back when we were little, which icecream we preferred, which games we played, etc. It’s always so much fun to spend time with Jürgen! And of course we had a stop at a cute little beergarden (the 13th apostle).

Bavaria – this & that

Just another thunderstorm rolling in…
Neuburg, where I spent a nice day with my sister Petra…
My niece Saskia and her huge portion of tiramisu. I swear, I only tried a tiny bite! Or was it half of it? I can’t remember and it’s not that important…

Leaving

Leaving California is not easy. You leave gorgeous weather, perfect temperatures, crisp ocean water, and a lot of happy people, because the weather does affect your mood, in case you didn’t know!

Leaving California is also great for your wallet: nowhere else are prices so ridiculous, over the top and beyond, nowhere else they expect tips for services not performed, and nowhere else those tips are expected to be 30% [[additionally to a $790 dinner at Justin – I almost had to postpone my trip 😬! But I have to admit that we did receive a gift bag, a special goody bag, filled with a tiny micro jar of seasalt (1/2 teaspoon) and a small bottle of Fiji water, I’m talking plain drinking water]]. So I’m glad to go to „anywhere-is-cheaper-than-California“ country now! Good bye!!!

Kombucha. $7.67 (16 fl.oz = 473mL)

Good-bye food in Munich

Every time I leave Munich it is tough. It is tough to leave my family, my friends, it is tough to leave all those hugs & kisses, all those tears.

But then there is the good- bye treat at the airport, which are white sausages, pretzel and sweet mustard. It is the ultimate Bavarian comfort food that makes it a little easier to leave – kind of like a band aid with a Mickey Mouse print…

There are a few rules how to eat them though:

  • You cannot eat them after 12pm! The saying is: a white sausage shouldn’t hear the 12 o‘clock church bell ringing! They are made fresh every day in the morning and they have to be eaten immediately. Therefore white sausages are eaten for breakfast. And yes, traditionally you have to drink Wheat beer with them. And yes, beer for breakfast – it is Bavaria for heaven’s sake! 🍺
  • You should never cut the white sausage like you’d cut any other sausage: they have to be peeled, but lengthwise! Or alternatively you can grab them with your hands and suck them out of the skin…
White sausage, cut and peeled lengthwise
  • You have to eat sweet mustard with white sausages, any other mustard would be a crime. Similar to eating French fries with honey instead of ketchup. The combination of white sausages with a salty pretzel (which is actually called a Brezn), and sweet mustard is the ultimate taste combination made in heaven. In the Bavarian heaven. In the Italian heaven, the ultimate combination is tomatoes and basil, in the French heaven it is butter. Butter with everything and anything…
And here I am, on my way into the airport, via the Bavarian heaven

More German food

You might wonder by all the food posting I do (and therefore all the food I am eating), that I must have gained weight like never before! Infact, I wonder myself 🤣

But would you say no if somebody – like my sister Petra – invited you for breakfast and it looks like this?


Or you meet your friend Wendl from highschool to cook dinner together, and you create this Bavarian classic: bread dumplings with chanterelle cream sauce and endive salad, would you say no to this?

As Wendl says: cooking is the sex of old age

Wendl and I have a history together, it’s kind of a love affair, but not with each other: we share the love of cooking and eating. So every time I am in Germany, Wendl and I cook something delicious 🥬🍲🌶️🥗🫒🍷 And did I mention that we know each other for 40+ years?


Or would you refuse to eat those spinach and cheese dumplings I ate today for lunch? Would you? Followed by Kaiserschmarrn, a dessert classic in Bavaria 🥰


My good bye dinner party two days ago was not only lots of fun – 15 family members showed up with fun stories, good mood and big appetites – we also had delicious food!

My sister asked me a few days ago what I’d like to do if I had the chance to try something totally different. My answer: something food related, not being a chef, but a taster (if there is such a thing). Somebody trying, tasting, combining, presenting food to perfection. That’s what I would do! No wonder that I like to eat and drink…..