Category: Travel

Beautiful architecture of Fulda cathedral

Along with the protective medieval walls that surrounded homes and towns of Germany, we found elements of Christianity everywhere we went. I have great affection for the long and complicated history of this religion, and it was a fascinating experience to view some very old artifacts of Christianity close up.

As in Italy, there was a stunning array of statues as well as representations of the crucifix everywhere we went.

Shadowed crucifix

This one appeared in the small cemetery in Bad Neustadt an der Saale. Unlike so many neatly-mowed cemeteries in America, this beautiful little cemetery featured tiny, unique garden plots on each grave site. Many had small glass-covered candles sitting among the plants, and every single one looked like it received regular, loving care from family members:

Beautiful garden graves in Bad Neustadt cemetery

One day we drove up to Fulda to see the beautiful cathedral. While the Fulda monastery originated in the 8th century, the cathedral was built in 1704 and was modeled after St. Peter’s in Rome.

Brooding magnificence of Fulda cathedral

I expected a grand interior, but I was pleasantly surprised at the lovely pale shades of white and pastel colors that graced the inside of the cathedral. It was a welcome and refreshing change from the bold colors and gold ornamentation that make so many churches hurt the eyes with their overwhelming magnificence. The interior of Fulda cathedral was soft and welcoming.

Reaching for glory: interior of Fulda cathedral dome

Down in the basement of the cathedral, the tomb of patron Saint Boniface appears ready to open any moment. Martyred by some grumpy Frisians in the 8th century who were unhappy about his destruction of their pagan shrines, Boniface’s body now rests in this beautifully-carved marble tomb. (As for the Frisians, they were unfortunately subjected to the hearty forced-conversion efforts of Karl der Grosse/Charlemagne after Boniface’s death.)

Tomb of St. Boniface: restless Archbishop ready to rise

There were many lovely representations of Mary both in the cathedral and across the countryside, as well as some dramatic scenes of the Passion of Christ. Some representations of the Holy Family and saints were beautifully lifelike, and some (below) were more primitive and dour, but all were quite beautiful.

Grim St. Killian guards walkway to Kreuzberg monastery

While in cities like Fulda there were plenty of wealthy patrons to support religious establishments, out in the country monks often developed their own ways to earn a living while supporting the spiritual life of rural communities. The Kreuzberg monastery is an excellent example of this rural lifestyle. Hidden atop one of the Rhön mountains in southern Germany (and less than an hour from Bad Neustadt), the monastery’s current buildings have sheltered monks and their visitors since around the time the Fulda Dom was built (very early 18th century). The monks made fantastic brown beer and delicious cheese there - - and they still do, though now with the help of lay folk.

We spent one afternoon visiting the old monastery at Kreuzberg high up on the lonely mountain. There were several cozy dining rooms filled to the brim with hikers and cyclers merrily sharing steins of beer and large plates brimming over with delicate grey Bockwurst, rye bread, slabs of cheese, and the best juniper-berry-dotted kraut I have ever had (except Soupski’s). After a half litre of beer, I grew to have enormous respect for the cyclers who pedaled all the way up the mountain - - and pedaled back down again after downing a litre (or more) of this potent brew.

Metzgerei: sacred temple of meat

All that touring was definitely hunger-inducing work, and of course there were two places I searched out in every town: the Bäckerei and the Metzgerei. With plenty of fresh pastry in the morning and a paper-wrapped selection of fresh sausage and cheese, I am invincible.

Or maybe I am just a pleasure-seeking heathen.

Naughty Pan sits in ivy-covered grotto outside Bad Neustadt an der Saale

Whether the motivation is to nourish the body to support the soul or to voluptuously enjoy earthly pleasures, the food in Germany was enough to satisfy. We had some delicious lunches of thin Wieners with hearty meat-dotted potato salad - -

A perfect lunch - Es schmeckt sehr gut!

- - and amazing selections of meats:

Beautiful display of local Wurst

Dinners were equally hearty, and we enjoyed seasonal, regional specialties like pan-seared trout - -

Delicious fresh Forelle (trout)

- - and thick venison stew on buttery beds of spatzle. Seasonal pears filled with tart berries provided the perfect foil for the meat.

Hearty Hirsch (venison) ragout and the local version of Spatzle (buttery egg noodles)

Pfifferlinge (Chanterelle mushrooms) were also in season, and I was lucky enough to enjoy a whole dish of them with my venison one lovely evening. Their delicate, earthy taste was out of this world, and as with all mushrooms they really are very best when they are freshly-picked. There was so much to choose from that the local chickens escaped my plate, but not my notice. Many of the hens I saw in the villages appeared to be some European relative of a Leghorn-Red cross:

Village chickens

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The history of the Christian Church is an interesting and complex intertwining of religion, spirituality, politics, violence, and the humbleness of daily life. Standing in a small medieval German village is like viewing a microcosm of this greater history: in the center of town is the church; down the street (or UP the street, depending on the personal power of the family) is the castle home of the local lord; fanning out for several blocks in each direction are streets for craftsmen and business folk, and if times were tough a high wall surrounded all and hopefully kept the enemy at bay. Bad Neustadt was an excellent example of this way of life, and across the country the tiny town of Beilstein was another . . .

Beilstein view of the hilltop church through old glass

To be continued . . .

Schloss Unsleben

Miss Pat, BD Soupski and I have returned stateside, and as I take time to pore through photos and reflect on our trip to the Old World, several things stand out in my mind.

One is the contrast between the homes and castles built in less secure ages and the modern, open, vulnerable ones in my own city. Our first part of the trip was spent in the tiny German town of Unsleben, northeast of Frankfurt and very near the city of Bad Neustadt an der Saale. We stayed in Schloss Unsleben, a walled and moated castle that has been the home of a noble family for many centuries. The current count and countess still reside in the castle, and they rent out portions of the castle to visitors.

Schloss Unsleben: view of tower and moat from the living room window

The castle, like many old homes of this size, has been expanded and changed over the years, and you can clearly see several very different (and interesting) building styles in its mix of towers and living wings. Some of the buildings dated to the 14th century! The castle lies, as many do, at the center of town directly down the street from the church. Its security lies in its fortress-like walls coupled with a wide moat. As I sat in my little tower room I wondered what sort of lives the many generations of this family had experienced. Could I even imagine what it was like to see enemy armies from the high windows? It had happened on occasion. What was it like to know your very life depended on your ability to defend the house in which you lived?

There is another very interesting wall surrounding the town of Bad Neustadt an der Saale. It is said Karl der Grosse himself (Charlemagne) had the wall built in the 8th century, and if you view it from above you find it to be in the anatomically-correct shape of a human heart. Fortunately the wall still stands, and we took a morning to walk part of its perimeter when we searched for Soupski’s old house.

While I am sure that at one time the area outside the city wall was clear of growth, we found a lovely path lined with plum trees burdened with fruit, chestnut trees full of nuts, and gardens still blessed with the last of the early autumn vegetables. Miss Pat wisely brought printouts of old photos so we could locate areas that would have changed since Soupski’s last visit, and eventually we found his old house. A few more blocks of strolling outside the city wall brought us to a place familiar to me through old family photos: the Bad Neustadt city gate.

It was around 60 years ago that little Soupski stood outside this very gate.

Bad Neustadt city gate ca. 1948 - - could that be little Soupski?

City gate, Bad Neustadt an der Saale

For me it was somewhat surreal to stand there with him again all these years later. What on earth could have gone through his mind in those moments? Did the years rush through his head like a torrent, friends and brother and sister and Mama Ski and mysterious adventures with Opa Ski; returning to the states and trying to resume American high school; military, marriage and children and retirement and suddenly, suddenly right back in this place and - - well, I guess we’ll never really know what happened at that moment, as BD Soupski, like so many other men, spoke very little of what he was feeling.

He did, however, enlighten us to the details of one of his German adventures. It was a well-known family story that as a child Soupski had once snuck into an old castle near Bad Neustadt. While exploring, he met up with the duke who still resided in that castle. The old gentleman kindly showed little Soupski around the castle, even letting him explore the old dungeons below. After spending a friendly afternoon there, Soupski hustled home before Mama Ski began looking for him.

Now, Soupski has a lot of stories. Good ones. It is one thing to hear them, and quite another to encounter proof. The proof began as we made a short hike through the forest outside Bad Neustadt. As we reached the top of the hill, we saw the grey stones of the old Salzburg castle through the trees.

Salzburg castle peeks through the trees like a hidden fairytale fortress. Is there a sleeping princess within?

The castle is surrounded by imposing walls at the top of a considerable slope, making access to the castle difficult - - especially for enemy soldiers.

Crenelated walls of Salzburg castle above town of Bad Neustadt an der Saale

However, a small boy with proper motivation and little supervision could theoretically crawl through one of these small holes at the bottom of the outside wall:

Tiny hidden passages, bottom right, lead the bold (and limber) through the castle wall

Crawling up through the hole and climbing into a small chamber built into the wall might also lead here, to the castle courtyard.

The other end of the hidden entrance to Salzburg castle’s courtyard

And to prevent further (theoretical) invasions by tiny Americans, the small doorway is now sealed with a large iron lock.

Old residence at Salzburg castle

There is so much to see and tell of our trip to Germany. It would take many more days to process the experience, and to put into perspective the places and people we met along the way. It is difficult for New World folks to understand the incredible history of Europe. While somewhat old as far as historical settlements, my town was not incorporated until the 1980s. The city of Bad Neustadt was “incorporated” in the 780s. I cannot begin to calculate all the differences in psyche a person growing up in that history must have from my own world view!

I will explore more of this trip and post a few of the hundreds of photos I took in two subsequent blog posts. As with my trip to Italy, and perhaps even more so, my visit to Germany was beautiful and life-altering. Walking along the walls of cities built in ages long past changed me and widened my view of this incredible world in which I am privileged to move.

Peaceful place: old chestnut tree and bench outside wall of Schloss Unsleben

Misty dreamscape of the Monterey, California coastline

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O beautiful, for spacious skies,
For amber waves of grain,
For purple mountain majesties
Above the fruited plain!
America! America! God shed His grace on thee,
And crown thy good with brotherhood, from sea to shining sea.

O beautiful, for pilgrim feet
Whose stern, impassioned stress
A thoroughfare for freedom beat
Across the wilderness!
America! America! God mend thine ev’ry flaw;
Confirm thy soul in self control, thy liberty in law!

O beautiful, for heroes proved
In liberating strife,
Who more than self their country loved
And mercy more than life!
America! America! May God thy gold refine,
Till all success be nobleness, and ev’ry gain divine!

O beautiful, for patriot dream
That sees beyond the years,
Thine alabaster cities gleam
Undimmed by human tears!
America! America! God shed His grace on thee,
And crown thy good with brotherhood, from sea to shining sea!

- Katharine Lee Bates, 1893

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Well over 100 years ago the young English teacher Katharine Lee Bates was inspired enough by her cross-country train trip to write those words about what she saw and hoped for in America. In my own beautiful wandering years I made several driving trips across the country, and I know first hand the awe she felt when leaving the sheltered east and heading out west across the sprawling miles. What an incredible land this is! The sheer scale of it is surprising if you have never passed across it before. The wide variety of climates, ecosystems, animals, and people is something that must be experienced to be truly believed.

Approaching Flagstaff, Arizona: arid desert suddenly gives way to pine-covered mountains

When I think back to those trips, a collage of images tumbles into the front of my mind:

The swampy plains of Memphis and Arkansas; the patchwork highways, the cotton fields steeped in hot morning mist.
Fields of bluebells, brilliant indigo waving in the north Texas breeze.
Endless Kansas wheat fields, golden to the blue horizon as far as the eye could see.
Wind blowing over the stones of the Puerco Ruins in Arizona.

13th-century Puerco Ruins in Arizona

The dusky purple shadows of sunset in the Grand Canyon, a sight which completely silenced even the noisiest group of tourists.

South Edge of the Grand Canyon

A sudden snowstorm in July up near Raton Pass on the southern Colorado border.
Sunset while driving across the glowing white expanse of the Great Salt Lake in Utah.
Waking up to watch the sun rise over the mountains near Albuquerque, New Mexico.

Santa Fe railroad cars chug along the mountains outside Albuquerque, New Mexico

Endless lonely stretches of golden hills in south central California, and tiny towns with names like “Lost Hills,” “Bitter Water” and “Devil’s Den.”
Sitting under the tall pines of Jack’s Peak over Monterey, California, and watching sailboats on the bay below - - tiny white butterflies floating across a deep blue pond.
The thunder of waves at rocky Asilomar Beach - - feeling the delicate flutter of air from passing gulls overhead.

Reaching the Pacific: sunset on Asilomar Beach, California

And of course, a brilliant evening of fireworks over the Washington Monument in Washington, DC that I will never forget.

In those days when cell phones were not so common, I traveled (usually by myself) with no outside communication. Eventually I carried a CB radio. It was only in my later trips across the U.S. that I kept a cell phone for emergencies. I recall times driving, especially across the desert southwest, when there would not be another set of headlights from horizon to horizon. Oddly enough, no matter how desolate the place, I never felt alone - - whether from “immortal youth” or some more metaphysical reason I could not now say.

Mysterious cliff drawings near Puerco Ruins in Arizona

Traveling enough times, however, eventually brought the odds of mishap my way. At those times, I had the privilege of seeing first-hand just how incredible people can be when helping a traveler in need. I have a whole collection of memories of kind folks across the country lending me a hand, perhaps culminating in one particular week out in Tucumcari, New Mexico, where I had to stop for repairs to a badly cracked windshield. This is not an auto part normally kept on hand out in this tiny town in the desert, and it would require a day or two to get it in from the city. The only repair shop in town was run by a Native American gentleman and his daughter - - who kindly lent their brand new pickup truck to me, a stranger, until my van was repaired.

They even fixed the broken hinge on my passenger door when they noticed it.

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I could watch the news until I am queasy from the violence and calamity, and it would only take a few minutes of being open to the messages on the screen to begin feeling my faith in humanity ebbing away. Others can say what they say. I know what I have experienced, and it only takes a walk through the neighborhood to remind me of what I knew during all my travels: people can be pretty amazing when their highest selves are called upon.

As it lengthens by the years, the history of America seems rather like the life of an individual: it becomes a forest of beautiful, straight trees all mixed in with dead, broken branches and overgrown, decaying matter until it sometimes becomes difficult to tell what the forest was. It can be hard to find the original pattern, the driving intent.

It is good to return to the root, the source, to remember why we’re here. While I have some very personal ways to do this for my own life, on this day more than any other I remember with great reverence the call to higher thought that prompted the birth of this country. I used to have the documents hanging on my wall, but the Internet has made it very easy to find if I ever forget the words:

http://www.ushistory.org/Declaration/document/index.htm

and of course:

http://www.ushistory.org/documents/constitution.htm

The Jenotopia household sends its warmest blessings to all our fellow Americans across the globe, and to our friends of all other nations who have offered assistance to strangers without a second thought.

Gather Ye Rosebuds, J.W. Waterhouse

“The honeysuckle round the porch has woven its wavy bowers,
And by the meadow-trenches blow the faint sweet cuckoo-flowers;
And the wild marsh-marigold shines like fire in swamps and hollows gray,
And I’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother, I’m to be Queen o’ the May.”

- Tennyson, The May Queen

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Happy May Day! The first week of May (between May 4 and 10, according to most reckonings) contains a “cross-quarter day,” or the sun’s mid-point between the vernal equinox and the summer solstice. This time was significant to early astronomers in the larger context of the earth’s yearly cycle. It was important to early Europeans because it was the beginning of warmer months, and a time when livestock were typically sent to graze in summer pastures ~ a time when the harsh winter weather was usually over.

There are many interesting traditions and celebrations associated with this day, some of them dating to pre-Roman times. Miss Pat recalls making May Day posies with fresh flowers and leaving them on people’s doorsteps when she was a child. The much older tradition that comes to my mind is the ancient Irish tradition of re-lighting home hearth fires from the communal fire lit on the hill at Uisneach: what a beautiful way to celebrate community and the turning of the seasons.

In our modern world it is easy to get out of the rhythm of the seasons, and I think this does us a great disservice. Staying connected with the cycles of the earth ~ whether through gardening, animal care, earth sciences, even hunting, fishing, hiking or other outdoor activities ~ keeps us grounded and conscious of the endlessly-repeating pattern of all things in the natural world. I believe this has a transformative effect on us, keeping us balanced, healthy and happy.

Despite the suburban challenges to “staying connected,” there are many small ways we can incorporate more of the outdoors into our indoor lives. As for me, I will spend much of the day in an office, but when I get home I will surely be outside enjoying my gardening and playing with the animals until nightfall ~ no matter what surprises the weather brings!

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Here are a few interesting ideas for celebrating May Day:

‘Tanz in den Mai’ and help raise the Maibaum in Bavaria’s maypole celebration near Putzbrunn: http://www.travel.hickerphoto.com/bavarian_german_culture.jsp .

You could enjoy Sima (boiled, fermented mixture of raisins, sugar and yeast) and Tippaleivät (biscuits) at Finland’s Vappu celebration. Or not. http://www.scandinavica.com/culture/tradition/walpurgis.htm

You could live vicariously through the eyes of scampering nymphs who danced through the woods last night in Edinburgh’s revived Beltane festival: http://www.beltane.org/

There’s still time to enter the cheese-rolling contest to be held during their May Day celebration (May 5) in the Village of Stilton, England: http://www.stilton.org/about_rolling.html

. . . or you could sit outside and enjoy the sights and sounds of nature ~ even if it is just at your local city park.

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“The May Queen,” beautiful stained glass window designed by George Parlby and Thomas Cowell, 1900

I have been inspired in the wake of my visit to Bonnie Blue Farm, and before my bags were unpacked I was in the kitchen working on just the recipe for these beautiful, fresh goat cheeses.

Deliciously rich spinach-fêta tarts

I developed a lovely, rich, creamy Spinach-Fêta Tart that incorporated Bonnie Blue’s delicious fêta cheese with baby spinach and fresh eggs from my Spoiled Suburban Hens. I wrote down the recipe against my own natural tendencies just so I could share it with you. Even if you don’t have access to fresh goat cheese you can still make this tart with a wide range of sheep fêtas from your local grocery; you might want to experiment a little to find a type that has just the right flavor for your personal taste.

I happened to have a bottle of 2005 dry Frascati (Fontana Candida) in the refrigerator, and it turned out to be delightful with this tart. Frascati is an Italian white wine from the area around Rome, and it is made with a blend of three very ancient grape varietals (Trebbiano, Malvasia, and a grape simply called Greco). It was light, floral but not too sweet, and it perfectly balanced the richness of the tart ~ a complete accident of Fate that turned out in my favor. If you pair this tart with wine, you might choose something similarly light; even a sparkling wine would be nice.

Hope you enjoy the recipe!

Jen