In which we celebrate a very Christiany holiday in a very Pagany fashion.

It's now time to take a little time to go back in time to this one time once upon a time when it was almost Easter and the world was aflame and the good pyromaniacs of the world rejoiced. If you have time, that is.

Some people celebrate Easter in a lily-scented church all gussied up for the resurrection. Some people celebrate Easter with delicious spreads and hardcore, multilingual scavenger hunts through the forests of Connecticut with family and adopted family on a quest for a Golden Egg. Some people celebrate Easter by stealthily wrapping up the house in string attached to shiny grass and goody-filled baskets, only to wake a few hours later to find that the housecats had very, very solidly foiled the plans of the Easter Spider and had had a wonderfully tangled time of it, too. Some people celebrate Easter by dangling plastic, brightly colored eggs from tree branches and enjoying the sight of them hopping in the breeze while cosily devouring rabbits squelched into chocolate molds from the comfort of their bunny slippers. Many Germans fall into this category.

However, many Germans also fall into the next category, being the category of people who celebrate Easter by pyramiding up all the old Christmas trees still loitering on street corners, as well as whatever other dry wood they can find, safely securing a humanoid straw figure atop the pyre o' woody booty, then gathering the neighborhood supply of neighbors and cute neighbor children and booze and burning that sucker to the ground. (Of course, I am well aware that this category also corresponds perfectly to, say, the first category, and in fact they could well be one and the same.)

Hamburg takes part in the Osterfeuer tradition bigtime. Many different neighborhoods have their own bonfire, the largest and most scenic of which can be found on the long, blonde, sandy beaches of Blankenese, which separate the Super Swanky Staircasey Posh Upon a Hill from the industrial, harborifically waving waters of the Elbe River. People from all over gather at sundown, armed with tinder, beer, good cheer, and meat on sticks. Other folks gather from across the mistygray waterway and can be seen aboard their various vessels docked softly in the settling dusk. Eventually the sun skips out of the sky to spark the bonfires in a big, flamebuoyant sort of way. Observe:

Wikipedia tells me that the Osterfeuer tradition is linked to that of the pastoral flame (ha, just googled "pastoral fire" and one of the first links on the list was "How to Fire Your Pastor"), ie. of bringing the light of the world back to the world and all that Totally Rad Action. Continuing along down the paragraph, Wiki tells me that Easter fires are also symbolic for burning winter away, inviting new growth, and hope for a good harvest. In many places, the ashes of the Osterfeuer were later spread across fields, thus giving the vegetables a tasty, pre-grilled flavor without having to go through the gruntwork of cleaning the grill afterward.

Of course, winter isn't the only symbol to find its smokin' hot demise amidst these sparkly flames. In many places (ie. Bavaria, quoth the Wiki), these bonfires are actually called various renditions of "Judasfeuer", meaning "Judas Burning(s)". Hence the hooded straw Menschen, so I suppose. The whole thing looked a little too triple K for my comfort, though I can't say I particularly felt any inclination to scale the pyramid and free the Judas from his impending doom either.

As this was Germany, there was naturally a lot of Bier involved, as well as Glühwein, hot chocolate with or without Rum, Wurst, and in my case, a fresh hot crêpe oozing with Kinder... Schokolade. Noms to the maxx while holding a chilly Easter Vigil.

And aaaaaaaas this was Hamburg, there was naturally a ginormous cruise ship involved. I can't say a massive, several-thousand-nightclubbing-person-carrying ocean liner was what I expected to come honking down the river while observing a several-thousand-year-old tradition, but I can't say I was surprised either.

On the subject of cruise ships, we haven't had any excellent mistranslations from my work in a while-- let's fix that right now! Ahem.

3.  For health-conscious the 'Spa Carnival Menus' are offered – a light and healthy diversion. Besides the 24-hour pizza and soft ice offer, also a sushi bar is onboard.

2.  [In cabin descriptions:] The comfortable and lovingly equipment is created with attention to details.

1.  Sports lovers are at best preserved in the fitness centre.

I've got still got a few better gems up my sleeve to whip out at a warmer date. Just you wait.

Righto, back to the past! There was beach, there was fire, there were revellers, there were resurrections, and eventually there was enough cold in my bones to send me trekking back up the many twisty, twirly staircases upon that Very Posh Hill in the direction of my bus and my bed. All was quiet, the air smelled freshly of saltwater and burning Judases, and I smiled my way into sleep with the sweet expectation of a sky full o' church bells on the coming morn.

(...Blastoff!

The (ship name) embodies relaxation, fun and entertainment for the whole family. Let the unique atmosphere seduce you.

That's right-- fun and seduction for the WHOLE FAMILY!)

In which things fly a little on the fowl side.

Yesterday morning I got to do some birdwatching before work, grâce à some very unsuccessful bureaucratic business. Still a bit bleary-eyed, I slurped carefully on my Transatlantic Sweet & Spicy Herbal Blend tea while perched upon a dewy bench to observe the greedy but graceful gliding of those ever-popular long-necked beasts. Then all hell broke loose.

The swans, still in the whitening of adolescence, were going nutso. One troublemaker in particular was in full-on attack mode, stalking its compadres one by one before lunging for a beak fulla feathers, its head whipping forward like a striking cobra. Another seemed oblivious to this bullying/rite of passage in that it kept dipping its beak into the water and chattering with great cranial vibrations. 'Twas most peculiar.

The ducks were also rocking some sort of hullabaloo, flying around in a careening fashion and squacking in that ducky way that only ducks can squack. Two flew right into the Fancy Schmancy Venetian Pedestrian Passage by the water, landed, found themselves on some strange planet, and promptly flew out again, ryeeih ryeeih ryeeih ryeeih ryeeih.

The pigeons were just chillin', gearing up for another long day of flying rat impersonations.

On another day in the past, far away on the other side of the Binnenalster, two potentially monogamous creatures had their afternoon napping disrupted by the ever-approaching clicking of one of those stupid, flightless humans.

Speaking of lovebirds and Hamburgian waterworks, allow me to present the reason behind the last two+ weeks of silent bloggage:

(Altogether now: "D'awwwwww!")

Anyway. Interspecies Noms From Tourists Party!

Continuing on the topic of noms and swans and Alsters and wonderful parental units, here's another minute of another day. Click to observe silly swanny facial expressions up close.

(Those shots don't actually have anything to do with parental units, but whatev's.)

Now for something fleeting, like sunshine.

And just in case anyone forgot, giraffes are so cool.

Particularly when they are teapots.

...Sooo, yeahh.

In which we bound around Budapest. Part II.

Favorite photo of this adventure: see above.

Riding the subway in Budapest felt very much like riding the subway in Prague, in that you had to take epically long escalators into the belly of the earth for a chance at risking your life by hopping in and out of speedy, action-packed vehicles. This particular escalator (see below) was a curiosity indeed in that it was a.) wooden, and b.) really, really fast. Riding the yellowy line was especially entertaining due to its silly little chime (which someone captured here) and classic decor. Unlike the other subway lines, it careeningly wormed its way through the underworld only a few meters underneath the unsuspecting streets.

A few smashing heroes... and tourists. (But can you tell which is which?)

I particularly enjoyed walking down the big, open Andrássy street, admiring the trees against its elegant facades. Later I gave it a background check in my Two-Euro Clearance Guidebook and learned that people were hanged on its big beautiful steetlights during WWII. Needless to say, that shifted my perspective a little.

Drinks! Sweets! Souvenir! ...Gooseliver? ...And alcohol.

The rest of the Amis needed to depart on the fourth evening, but I had decided to stay on another day and tackle the city solo style. That adventure started with an evening stroll along the Danube, which had many sparkling treasures to unfold and behold.

Desperate much?

Who knew that Michelangelo's hand model was actually Franz Liszt?

A peek up the basillica. Holy in a Gaud-y kind of way.

In the last moments before turning my steps toward the airport, I finally found the man I had set out to find, much like many of the GOP nominee hopefuls: Ronald Reagan. (Here you go, JB.)

...And inadvertantly also discovered Ronald Reagan's Zombie Shadow, which so just happened to bear a striking resemblance to many of the GOP nominee hopefuls.

Budapest gave me a wholehearted tickling, much more so than I had anticipated. It definitely had an Eastern European flair that I had first tasted in Poland and the Czech Republic, but it surprised me with its simultaneous mega-cosmopolitan attributes. For example, most every single café window I sauntered by was advertising free WiFi, putting it way ahead of Germany on the interweb connectivity front. The public transportation was also much more advanced than I had expected. In fact, it was downright grand. Architecturally speaking, my eyes wanted to lick every wall and polish themselves on every overly-expressive statue. I didn't even make it into a single museum or performance space, which was certainly a bummer as there were so many exhibits and concerts that I would have liked to have seen. All the more reason to go back, I suppose.

I made it to the airport without difficulty and, after convincing the nice flight attendants to let me fly without my passport a second time (somehow managed to leave it in HH, oooops-- gotta love those Schengen buddies), I snagged an almost-front seat and proceeded to feast on miniature landscapes. (1. Near Budapest, and 2. Near Berlin.)

Fully satiated, I boarded the train in Berlin and let its zenny lull sing me back to home. Where it snowed a week later. Oh, well.