In which thanks is given despite unforseen holiday squashers.

I am grateful for all the people in my life.
I am grateful for the internet for having shown me the Macy's Day Parade for the first time ever.
I am grateful for Arlo Guthrie for having written a ridiculous 20-minute song that I get to listen to every Thanksgiving.
I am grateful for having had a wonderful weekend in Poland, proof below and more to follow... sometime.

I am grateful for the thought that someday, somewhere in the future, I will again eat pie.
I am grateful for the teamwork of individuals that freed me from the cold basement hallway where I unexpectedly spent my evening instead of singing Verdi's Requiem with the university choir and orchestra.
I am not particularly grateful for the individual who thought they were being helpful when they double-locked the basement door, but whatever.
I am grateful for all the research I accomplished while chillin' on the basement floor.
I am grateful for being able to laugh at myself, and for being able to live in a wonderful place with a big stipend.
I am grateful for (hopefully) being able to fly to Switzerland tomorrow, and for the extraordinary people I will visit there.
I am grateful for all of this, for all that was, and for all that will be.
Thanks for that.

In which November checks in.

A couple weekends ago found me a-venturing north to the forgotten city of Kiel to visit a couple friends from my not-so-forgotten German past. The train strolled out of central station just in time to catch the best streaks of golden afternoon streaming through the plastic-coated windows and construction scaffolding, and over the bustling platforms, painting shadowy vignettes of passengers on the cold, shoe-laden cement. My eyes were unaccustomed to the scenes of Schleswig-Holstein, with its gently growing hills and almost-frosted fields that had just been put to bed, dark with deer looking for leftovers in the hardening earth. Zooming through tiny towns gave me glimpses of children playing outside as the misty, damp evening chill engulfed the empty street behind them. One of my favorite views was passing through a place of flat greenness spotted with towering turbines and what appeared to be perfect fluffs of sheep. My internal dialog went something like this:
This would be such an adorable scene if those hay bales were sheep.
I think those hay bales are sheep.
It would be too perfect if those hay bales were sheep.
Those hay bales are sheep!
I don't know why the combination of wind turbines and fleecy sheepies pleased me so much, but it did. This photo does it no justice.

My body was just getting to its favorite point in the hypnotic lull and sway of speeding bullet travel when the lullabying and swaying turned into stopping at our final destination. It was then that the world started lurching and vrooming to the rhythm of a city bus at rush hour. The sun had peaced by that point, but night was delayed somewhere in Eastern Europe and left the city waiting in different shades of anticipatory grays until it arrived. Maybe it was something about being by the Baltic Sea that gave the air a kind of silvery luster, like the last remnants of daylight reflecting in the fog. It reminded me of trudging stiffly through the sand squish on a beach in Maine one evening last December-- same ocean air breezing through my bundling, same feeling of grayscale landscape. Very different situation.

All imagery aside, I really enjoyed my time there. Highlights included somewhat sporadic wandering to the water's edge, home-cooked love in my stomach, and matching French breakfast with an old friend. I was also reminded about how much cheaper everything is when you don't live in a big city, which was a temporary happiness.

Back in Hamburg, November happened. Gray, gray, creeping cold, gray pre-winter winter. The sky looks perfectly clear in its grayness, so much so that I've started to forget it could be any other color. The sun can easily be observed by the naked eye as a blurry, white circle making its way from east to west with the same rapid step I use to get from the S-Bahn to my apartment in the cold. As much as I am not partial to the color scheme or present climate, I really love November.

About a week ago, I was summoned to the Speicherstadt  (warehouse district by the harbor --> possibly Europe's largest and most expensive construction/gentrification project) for a delightfully wine and cheesy cross cultural event, and was thrilled to find a nightmareish photographer's dream enveloping the old bricks and glass walls. The Speicherstadt has unearthly qualities at all times day, but to see it moodily-lit and fog-filled made it spectacularly spooktastic. I felt like I was going to be murdered around each corner, but I wasn't. ...At least I don't think I was.

 

 

 On another note, I think I'll go to Poland tomorrow.

Bake Date: Apple Spice Yum Loaf

This recipe fell into my clutches one afternoon a few weeks ago when a lovely person came to co-conjure up an apple pie in my co-zy kitchen and brought with her far too many of the most gigantic apples I had ever encountered. (Seriously, Mr. Newton would have been a goner if one of those babies had plopped his noggin.) Needless to say, the family's Swedish apple pie recipe was resurrected with many a sinful fruit to spare, so we continued to perfume the kitchen with praline apple bread and this apple spice cake, which we then contributed to a spontaneous post-Mountain Day Smithie indulgeganza. I know apple season has pretty much met its end (especially in New England with all that untimely white stuff), but in case you've still got a few plump morsels hoping for a useful future, here's a way to save the day.

What you need:

• 2 cups flour 
• 2 tsp cinnamon
• 1 tsp nutmeg
• heaping 1/4 tsp ground cloves (Original recipe calls for 1 tsp allspice. I ain't got none.)
• 1/4 tsp salt
• 1 tsp baking soda
• 1/2 cup softened butter substitute
• 3/4 cup brown sugar (not packed)
• 1/2 cup white sugar
• 4 eggs
• 1 tsp pure vanilla extract (none of that imitation nonsense)
• about 2 cups apples (3ish), peeled & chopped into wee (but not too wee!) bits
• 1/2 cup raisins (for those who admire that wrinkliest of fruits)
• 1/2 cup chopped walnuts (ifin' yer lookin' fer uh liddul krunch)

Oventemp: 350 degrees F (175 degrees C) ((450 degrees K)) 
Makes: 2 loaves, or one big bundt (teehee), or whatevah! 
Musik: Something seasonally warm for the cold. Apartmentmate said that this baked good "smelled like Christmas" (or rather, "smelled after Christmas" if you're niggling for a literal translation), so maybe go in that direction. If you dare.

Butter your pan(s) of choice. I always find this chore annoying in the same way that brushing my teeth is annoying-- there are so many other ways I could be using those few minutes than standing there greasing a pan/brushing my teeth! Buuut then it's necessary and one always has to do it. Just get it out of the way now.

Soak the raisins (if you're not one of those raisin haters) in warm water for about ten minutes, then drain. Why, you ask? I ask: Do you want your Apple Spice Yum Loaf to be scrumptiously moist and mouth-thrilling?

Whisk together the flour, spices, and baking soda in an appropriately sized vessel, being careful not to fling powder all over the room and making sure to incorporate all the spices. If your whisking leaves dark, spicy swirls hidden in the carbohydrate dust, whisk more effectively! You don't want the baking soda to miss out on half the batter.

Mush the butter substitute and sugar into a fully functional horror flick Blob for your arteries. I suppose you could simplify things with an electric mixer... but there's just something so classy about a wooden spoon. Next slop it up with the eggs and vanilla, thicken carefully with the dry mixture, and fold in wee apple bits and raisins and/or nut chunks.

Immediately deposit in the painstakingly greased pan(s) and bake in the lower half of your preheated oven for approximately one hour, or until a sharp object inserted carefully into the abdomen proves that the guts goo no more. (I really was going to try to be less visceral with this recipe... oops.) Cool. Devour. Cool? Cool.

In which we peer into the ahead.

Things I wish German-speakers would not say to me after several minutes of smooth introductory conversation:

"Sooo, where you from?"
"The United States."
1. "Oh yeah, I hear that now."
2. "Ahhh, I thought as much."
3. "Various renditions of 1 & 2."

What does that mean? I know it's not meant to insult my language capabilities in any way, but still.
That being said, salsa dancing is such fun!

Other recent discoveries:
a.) My favorite cafe has what might just be the best homemade hot chocolate in the city -- a beautifully dangerous concoction.
b.) Germany does have an autumnal-looking season! I didn't remember being too impressed last time around, but there was one afternoon at the Uni last week when I was walking through a row of flaming yellow trees with the leaves blustering brightly against the dark, damp bark, and I felt the essence of fall in my bones and filled my lungs with the scent of promised freshness and the melancholy absence of woodsmoke, and was content. Those leaves are almost all down now-- just in time for the skeletal frames of Christmas markets to go up. It's dark dark dark by 5pm. Good things are ahead.

Theater things are putting on a great show. Class is fun and continually over-filled with fun, theater-loving students-- in fact, there are so many students that our bodies spill onto the windowsills and floor of the decently-sized classroom. My research currently has me in the depths of Hamburg's political history in 1945-46. It's dark dark dark in there. And fascinating. To go even farther back and forward in time, I'll once again be thespianing with the University Players, this time rocking the comic relief as Hamlet's Rosencrantz turned modern-ish female. My Guildenstern is a wonderful, vertically-challenged English woman. We set each other off far too easily, which basically means that rehearsal consists of us trying to remember to breathe through recurring oxygen-sucking bouts of hilarity. Good times are ahead.

The translation job starts on Monday. I've been living in fear for the last week that I'll forget to go. That won't happen, at least not now that I've written it here. ...Right? This is roundabout where my job takes place:

The photography class I was signed up to take ended up being cancelled, which is somewhat of a disappointment, but more of a relief with all the ways I've started stretching myself recently. I was hoping to make some friends in that group, but luckily I've been making other friends elsewhere in the meantime, German and otherwise. I was fortunate enough to share the experience of the Bach Mass in b minor in one of Hamburg's grandest churches with one of them last weekend. Hopefully good friendships are ahead. Hope hope hope.

I start paying back my college loans on Monday. OH, BOY! Now I need to start thinking about my future after next summer. Every time I take my brain there, it gets distracted. Aeeeiijhjghjhk.

Distraction! A Saturday in the Schanze:

 

 This one made me LOL. Fo' realz:

Distraction! Other photos:

 

Aaand lastly, I was hit with an unexpected bout of homesickness a couple days ago. My usual remedy for this is peppermint tea and the purchase and consumption of exotic fruits. This time I sat down with peppermint tea and did some semi-spontaneous cheap ticket purchasing to exotic places. Switzerland, Denmark, Estonia. All ahead.