A couple of weeks ago, one of Bill’s co-workers invited us to go to a wine tasting/market in Wiesbaden. She bought tickets for us, two of her other friends, and of course, herself. The event was held in the Colonnades near the Kurhaus in downtown Wiesbaden. To gain entry, we had prove we were fully vaccinated, but all other COVID related measures were dropped. We were supposed to be limited to two and a half hours, but fewer people showed up than were expected, so we could have stayed longer if we’d wanted to.
I really had a good time. I had forgotten how much fun these events are, even though I usually end up drinking too much. 😉 We met people representing wineries from around Germany, but there were also a couple of wineries from Italy and France in attendance. We also talked to a lady who runs a nut business out of Freudenstadt, which is very close to where we used to live when we were in the Stuttgart area. She had some really tasty cashews and other nuts that had complementary sweet and savory flavors. She also had salts, cheese breads, and granola.
We didn’t manage to hit every table. If we had, I would be in even worse shape this morning than I am… My liver really got a workout. But I did manage to get some photos. Lots of people were out and about, including a number of wedding parties. Springtime in Wiesbaden is a great time to see brides!
It’s so nice to have some normalcy again. I hope to enjoy it for as long as possible.
KurhausHow I spent my Satirday.Balloons in the air…I hope no wildlife is harmed.There weren’t too many people.Bill tries Bergkase.I loved this Sekt. It was called Provakateur. This vintner also had alcohol free wine, which was surprisingly good.I meant to buy some of this because of the name… I forgot. I liked the wine, too.I never got a chance to talk to this guy.Who’s this handsome devil?We had a great chat with this lady.She runs her business out of Freudenstadt.It was a great time!
I enjoyed talking to some of the winery reps. One French lady bonded with us over a love for Georgian wines and the ancient way wines are made in the Caucasus. She said she did an internship in the Republic of Georgia, and since I lived in Armenia, we both knew about the region. ETA: It turns out the woman was actually from Germany, but she imports French wines. We found this out when Bill got the Rechnung!
Another winery was represented by the founder’s son, who said their winery was extremely tiny, with just one hectare of vines. Besides wines, they also made plum brandy and wineschorles (wine spritzers) that were refreshing. I think we came home with about 30 bottles!
I think we’ll take it easy today… enjoy the nice weather, and take care of some chores.
Here are a few shots of some of our neighborhood’s cutest residents. We ran into them on our walk the other day. Our neighborhood also has a bee feeding vending machine made from a repurposed gumball machine.
I guess these mallards were on their way back to the creek.
My friend Priya, her husband Ron, and our new friend, Heather, came up to Wiesbaden from Stuttgart yesterday. They asked Bill and me to join them at the Wiesbaden Christmas Market. The markets down near Stuttgart have mostly been cancelled, due to rising COVID-19 infections, but there are many towns in other states that are having smaller versions of their markets. Priya and Ron have been making their way to a number of them.
I was glad they invited us to join them. I had been wanting to to go the market, but was having trouble with motivation. The weather hasn’t been nice lately, and the COVID rules can be onerous. But thanks to our friends from Stuttgart, we managed to have a great time. It was quite a shock to hang out with people again. We were all laughing about the erosion of social skills that has happened since March 2020.
After a few hours and too much wine and beer, we said our goodbyes. Priya, Ron, and Heather went on to visit the market in Mainz. Bill and I went home to feed the dogs.
For some reason, the connection on this site is excruciatingly slow today. I’ll have to keep the commentary to a minimum. I also can’t delete the photos, so there are a few that look like repeats. I’ll try to fix these glitches later.
The weather was cloudy, but not too cold.The geese liked it.They had the food and beverage areas cordoned off.Everybody had to show ID and full COVID vaccination status to attend.And masks were required… but they didn’t have to be FFP2s.The sun even peeked out a few times.Giant gingerbread house!The potato pancakes were delicious. They came with garlic sauce.Bill got us a pulled pork box.It was delicious!
Today, I received a package I had been eagerly awaiting. It came from County Clare, Ireland, and was decorated with stamps and stickers. The lady, name of Anne, who had sent me my order from Luka Bloom, had drawn little musical notes next to my name, which she had written in cursive that looked a lot like my own… especially after I’ve had a couple of beers.
The mailman asked me in German if we didn’t have a post office box. He was a young lad and I hadn’t seen him before. He’d also caught me off guard when he spoke German to me and I was standing there in a nightie with no bra on. I responded in English and he understood, just at about the time that I mentally translated what he’d said. No matter, since I wouldn’t have been able to speak German back to him. Isn’t it cool that my Irish music got to me on St. Patrick’s Day? Especially since I wrote to Anne to ask her to send it to Germany, even though I have a U.S. billing address and there was no way to add a different delivery address in their order form. It was no problem to make the change– and if I hadn’t, God only knows when the APO would have sent it to me.
So who is Luka Bloom (born Kevin Barry Moore)? He’s a fantastic indie folk musician and the brother of Christy Moore, another great indie folk musician. I was introduced to Christy Moore by an honest to God Irishman with whom I used to work at a Presbyterian church camp in Virginia. Funny thing is, my Irish friend, who lived near Belfast and most definitely not a Brit, was a Catholic. He ended up marrying one of the other counselors, a lovely Black woman from Stafford, Virginia. They have been together now for over twenty-five years and have six or seven children… I’ve lost count!
My Irish friend sent me a mix tape when I lived in Armenia and it had some of Christy Moore’s music on it. I liked it so much that when I got back to the States, I sought it out and stocked up my music collection.
Anyway, Christy Moore recently plugged his brother’s latest album, Out of the Blue. I am more familiar with Christy Moore’s music, so I decided to pre-order the new album, as well as a couple of others that looked interesting. As I’ve gotten older, I often find myself drunken downloading music or buying CDs from street musicians others I don’t know well. I’m very seldom disappointed in the results, but then I have very eclectic musical tastes. Luka Bloom’s new album, by the way, can be downloaded. I decided to get a CD because he was signing them. I also bought a CD that I couldn’t download, and another came with a download I got from the site.
Other than listening to my new CDs, I have no other special plans for today. I might not even have any whiskey or beer, because I’ve kind of been enjoying letting my body go booze free. I’m hoping Bill will be home sometime between tomorrow night and Friday night. After that, I suspect my teetotaling will conclude. I haven’t been totally faithful to the wagon during this latest marathon TDY, but I have found that I’ve not really wanted to drink alcohol so much… which is a relief, given my colorful family history.
I’ve found that I like Luka Bloom as much as I do his brother. Right now, I’m typing this and listening to one of the albums I bought, remembering when Bill and I took our cruise from Scotland to Northern Ireland with a stop in Carlingford, which is in the Republic of Ireland.
It turned out Dermott was Irish, but was born and raised in Newry, on the northern side of the border. He spoke of how in the 80s, the border checks were brutal. Guards would literally take cars apart, looking for bombs and contraband. Then he said he hoped one day Ireland would be reunited– it became clear that Dermott had Nationalist leanings. That got a rather disgruntled reaction from the elderly Brits who were on the cruise. Bill and I had no real skin in the game, except for our own Irish heritage. Turns out that other than the Irish surname I got from Bill when we married, I am actually more Irish than he is.
Then, Bill proceeded to annoy the Brits, who just wanted to get away from Dermott (I got the sense they thought he was an ingrate). Dermott was talking about Irish folk tales. Bill happens to love Irish literature and actually studied it in college. And then it seemed that he knew more about it than the guide did… The guide had heard the stories from his father, while Bill had studied it at American University and written papers on it… I got the sense that the other cruisers were irritated with both of them by the time that excursion. Luckily, there was a lot of booze on the boat.
Bill and I have been to Ireland a couple of other times. We went in 2016 for our 14th anniversary. One of my funniest memories from that trip was running into a bunch of 12 year old boys on a crowded train to Kilkenny, where we were going to tour the Smithwick’s Brewery. The kids were hilariously witty. When they found out Bill had been to Iraq and we were from America, they asked all kids of cheeky questions. The poor beleaguered “den mom” who was with them kept giving the look. But I swear, we about died laughing when one of the kids said, “Nobody vacations in Ireland! It’s AWFUL!” Then, a few minutes later, he asked us if we considered Canada our “goody two shoes neighbor to the north.”
The third time we went was to Dublin, to attend a marathon concert featuring Paul Simon, James Taylor, and Bonnie Raitt. The six hour concert, in and of itself, was reason enough to love our visit. But we also stayed in a fabulous hotel– the Merrion– and we had high tea. It was a marvelous time. I really miss travel… especially carefree travel. Here’s hoping that COVID-19 will be arrested soon, so we can go back to Ireland and raise a pint with those lads who were on the way to Kilkenny, who are now closer to 18. Seems like whenever we go to Ireland, we make at least one new friend and many new wonderful memories. At the very least, I come home with new stories… perhaps more than I do in some of the other places we’ve been.
From Luka Bloom’s latest album, Out of the Blue. I’m listening to this as I type this.
And one by Luka Bloom’s brother, Christy Moore. Believe it or not, this was the first version of “Fairytale of New York” I ever heard. It’s a cover… but it’s a damn fine cover!
Well, that about does it for this wistful post. I sure am ready to fast forward to our next trip. But barring that, I’d just like to fast forward to seeing Bill again. I have really missed him.
Another week has passed of Germany’s lockdown. I do my best to get my entertainment wherever I can find it. Nowadays, it seems my best chances for live entertainment are in the backyard. As you can see, Tommi the lab puppy still enjoys being a “peeping Tom”. He looks in on Noyzi and Arran all the time.
A few days ago, we ran into my neighbor’s mom, who also lives in the neighborhood. She looks after Tommi while my neighbor works. Noyzi and Tommi had an adorable meeting. It was obvious they wanted to play. Arran, of course, was very cranky and wanted no part of the shenanigans.
Below is a video of a couple of Tommi’s visits. People seem to like the Noyzi videos, even though they’re pretty similar. I would like to make some music videos soon. I just have to decide what I want to try. I’ll have plenty of time undisturbed, since Bill has to work TDY for three weeks. I hate it when he goes away for long stretches, but it does give me the opportunity to do some creative stuff without interruption. I’ll probably practice more guitar while he’s gone, too.
Noyzi and Tommi are confirmed pals… and Tommi still loves to visit under the fence.
I might also add some travel posts, since this lockdown just HAS to end soon. I read a really sad story about German hoteliers trying to keep going while people aren’t allowed to stay for leisure purposes. They must be very scared about the future and trying to survive. Bill is giving the hotel in Grafenwoehr three weeks worth of business, but it sure as hell isn’t a pleasure trip.
Meanwhile, I’ll be trying to keep Arran going as I also try to teach Noyzi that he doesn’t have to be afraid of everything… like the television. Today’s featured photo is of Noyzi, who until a few days ago, had never been to that part of the bedroom. In fact, I don’t think he’d ever really come into the room. He’s afraid of the TV. He seems to think the people in them will get him. Meanwhile, Arran has had some tummy troubles lately, so he went to the vet the other day. I have to drop off a sample of his poop on Monday so we can see if he picked up a parasite. The joys of mundane, monotony… and I get to do it all alone throughout March. I’ve already told Bill I’m probably going to buy some new toys while he’s gone.
Hopefully, it won’t be much longer before we get vaccinated and things might be a bit more normal. I am so ready to travel. My poor car keeps dying because I never drive anywhere.
The soggy weather continues here in Germany. We’ve had nothing but rain and snow since the new year. The weather is a bit of a bummer, especially since everything is still locked down here. We’re running short on fun lately, which is why it’s so great to have a new rescue dog around. Especially one from Kosovo!
Ever since Noyzi, the Kosovar street dog, and Tommi met a couple of weeks ago, Noyzi has been obsessively watching the fence that borders our neighbor’s yard. I see him sniffing the air, as if to catch a whiff of his new friend, Tommi the Lab. I let him and Arran outside for a pee break yesterday, and they both went nuts at the far corner of our little yard. I kept seeing little flashes of movement under the fence. I have seen mice, hedgehogs, birds, and the odd cat or squirrel on or in that fence. I thought maybe there was a cat or something there, making the dogs react…
Bill is not too pleased about having to upgrade the fencing. He was in the middle of something work related when this excitement happened.Party pooper!
But then I saw a blond doggie face and the happy eyes of our German neighbor’s cute little puppy. It turns out he’s been as interested in hanging out with Noyzi as Noyzi has been interested in hanging out with him! He was trying to wriggle under the fence. I wasn’t able to get the best video, since Bill came out and broke it up before I was able to catch the scene. But later, we let them out again, and Tommi tried again.
Noyzi and Tommi are desperately trying to find a way to be buddies, even though they are separated by a tall fence!
Pretty soon, I reckon Tommi will be too big to even try to go under the fence. And Bill will probably fortify it with something to prevent a breach. It was still pretty cute to see Tommi’s little face. He was very happy to try to come play.
Later, Noyzi came up to me while I was sitting at the table and I started scratching his butt. I have now created a monster. Now, not only does he show up like a silent canine taxman whenever I’m eating something, but he also wants butt rubs. Every time I rub, he drops a ton of hair. But it’s worth it, because look at the big smile on his face in the featured photo.
We’re seeing that silly grin more and more often, since he’s joined us from Kosovo. In four months, he’s gone from being so scared he’d pee on himself whenever Bill took off his jacket or belt, to begging for butt rubs, table scraps, and walks around the neighborhood. Maybe he’s not the best behaved dog around, but he sure is enjoying life. And he’s made this COVID-19 nightmare easier to bear. I have never regretted taking in any of the dogs we’ve rescued… even the tragedy of Jonny last spring ended up doing some good. But Noyzi has been especially rewarding to watch. And I’ve even made a couple new friends in the process.
Tomorrow, Arran will get his stitches out, having had a mast cell tumor removed on his left hind leg. Maybe the vet will be able to tell Bill the results of Noyzi’s DNA test, too.
Prior to Monday, I had never heard of Soultzmatt, another cute town in Alsace where wonderful locally produced wines are turned out every year. My friend, Ellen, said that she’d been buying wines from Klein René et Michel for years. As I mentioned in my previous post, I knew Ellen from Facebook. Before Monday, I had never met Ellen in person, though we have been interacting for a few years now. She and her friend, Louise, were about a half an hour behind us, so we had originally planned to visit Eguisheim. But the lure of wine was too strong to resist, and we soon found ourselves on the was to 5 Rue Ingold in Soultzmatt.
Bill was a little confused at first, once we found the winery. We weren’t sure where to park, or where to go. As luck would have it, another couple pulled up at about the same time we did, only they were French and spoke no English. Ellen had asked us to wait, but since the lady was already opening the tasting room for the French couple, we decided to go ahead… We knew we’d still be tasting wines when Ellen and Louise showed up. Sure enough, we were!
The lady who was running the tasting didn’t speak any English at all, so things were a little awkward at first. But then Bill told her he speaks a little German and, lo and behold, she spoke German, too! We’ve found that a lot of people in Alsace speak German, especially among the older folks. There’s a guy in Ribeauville who sells liqueurs and wines who speaks no English, but has happily carried on conversations with Bill, despite Bill’s limited German proficiency.
By the time Ellen and Louise showed up, the French couple had left with three boxes of wine– probably about 18 bottles worth. And Bill, Parker, and I had already tried about three… Ellen speaks French and German, so things got a lot easier after that! We left with twelve bottles of wine ourselves.
On the way into town…Here’s the city hall, just steps away from the winery.Parker checks out the list…So does Bill.Heading back to Ribeauville.
Ellen did manage to get a nice shot of us enjoying our wine…
This was a very successful stop!
It’s always a pleasure to meet online acquaintances offline. After all, that’s how Bill and I came together. We used to be strictly online friends. Ellen and Louise were delightful company. It turns out we have some things in common, too. Louise is a horse person, and I was a horse person for years before I grew up… and out. Louise lives in Mobile, Alabama, which was where my horse lived after his very first owner in Baton Rouge, Louisiana sold him with his mom. Louise is also the name of my former riding instructor. 😉 And Ellen was especially great company, especially since we lived in the same community and have husbands who do somewhat similar work. I was most impressed by her ability to speak French and German. Time for me to get back on the stick, I guess.
After we tasted and bought our wine, we headed back to Ribeauville. Parker stayed in while Bill and I went searching for dinner. We found only one open restaurant, though it was one we’d never tried before… Restaurant Le Ribeaupierre. I see it gets pretty low Trip Advisor ratings, although I can honestly say I have legitimately had worse dining experiences in Ribeauville. We were the only ones in the restaurant, but the waiter was still very pleasant and the food wasn’t bad.
We had never tried the Restaurant Le Ribeaupierre before…I had lasagne. It was lukewarm and, sadly, had two mushrooms in it. Bill took them away for me. The lasagne was otherwise alright.Bill had salmon with sauerkraut and citron sauce.A delightful Irish Coffee for me…AnAnd a “colonel” for my retired Lieutenant Colonel…
Restaurant Le Ribeaupierre is quaintly decorated and seems like a somewhat popular lunch spot, despite its low ratings on Trip Advisor. It looks like they mostly serve pizzas. I had some trouble choosing what I was going to have, mainly because the presence of mushrooms pretty much spoil my meals (not that I can’t afford to have some spoiled). Lasagne is one of those items that is hit or miss. Sometimes people use mushrooms in them. Sometimes they don’t. Anyway, this meal was alright. The Irish Coffee made up for it, and Bill enjoyed his “colonel”– lemon sorbet with a shot of vodka. We noticed that the waiter locked up right after we left, at about 8:00pm. Like I said, Ribeauville is dead in January, but plenty of fun can still be had if you look hard enough.
In the spring of 1998, I was 25 years old and living with my parents in Gloucester, Virginia. Six months earlier, I had come home from a two year stint in the Republic of Armenia, where I had served as an English teacher with the Peace Corps. While I will never regret spending those years in Armenia, I came home with a pretty serious case of clinical depression. I was broke and having a hard time finding a job that would pay enough to get me launched out on my own. I also came home to some significant family issues, which made my living at home a burden to my parents.
I spent the first few months home working as a temp, mostly at the College of William & Mary in various capacities. In the spring of ’98, I found myself working in William & Mary’s admissions office. That was an eye-opening experience, but it didn’t pay enough and the work was incredibly tedious. My parents were eager to have me get out on my own and I was eager to leave. I didn’t get along with my dad, who had his own issues with depression, post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), and alcoholism. My mom was at her wits’ end trying to keep their business going, which they ran out of their house. Dad had gone to rehab the day after my return from Armenia. Dad’s rehab ultimately wasn’t successful. He and I fought a lot.
One day, after a terrible row with my dad, I marched myself over to The Trellis, at that time one of the best restaurants in Williamsburg, Virginia. It was then owned by renowned Chef Marcel Desaulniers, who has written many cookbooks and used to have cooking shows on PBS. His partner, John Curtis, owned several businesses in Williamsburg and had himself been a Peace Corps Volunteer in the 1960s. My mission was to get a job that would pay more so I could GTFO of my parents’ house and get on with my life.
My eldest sister had worked at The Trellis in 1980, when it first opened. She graduated from William & Mary in 1981 and had gone on to do bigger and better things, including joining the Peace Corps. She went to Morocco from 1984-86. I had followed in her footsteps, but unlike my big sister, I wasn’t finding success. Although I had never worked as a waitress before, all three of my sisters had waited tables. I figured if they could do it, so could I. I liked working with food and was giving some thought to going to culinary school. When I was in Armenia, I had done a number of food related projects and had even once been employed as a cook.
The Trellis had a reputation for being a great place to be if you wanted to make bank, but it was also an extremely demanding work environment. I had applied to work there once in 1994, but the manager passed. I worked in retail for a year, then went to Armenia. In 1998, I was determined to get a job at The Trellis. I was mostly motivated by my rage at my dad and the need to stop living in his house. That must have been the magic that was missing the first time I applied, because that time, I got hired. Or, it could have been that they simply needed warm bodies. In 1998 and throughout my time working at The Trellis, they were always hiring because they were chronically short staffed! A lot of people were hired, only to quit or be fired in short order.
I had a really hard time learning how to wait tables at The Trellis. Marcel Desaulniers had been a Marine and he ran his kitchen with military precision. It didn’t matter that I didn’t have experience waiting tables, though. In fact, the management preferred people who were brand new to waiting tables. That way, there weren’t any bad habits that had to be remedied. But it was difficult getting the hang of the job. I remember it took a few weeks before I was finally at ease with the job itself. And then I had to learn about the food!
The menu changed seasonally, and all of the wait staff had to demonstrate their knowledge. There were daily specials, which we had to recite from memory. We were tested on the menus and learned about wine and liquor. Everyone started working at lunch, which was fast paced and required a lot more work to make cash. As a waiter’s skills improved, he or she would be promoted to “Dinner Cafe”, which was even worse than working lunch. It was basically a hybrid menu that included certain lunch and dinner dishes and patrons were seated on the terrace or in the “cafe” area. The money was nominally better, but the work was just as hard. Finally, when menu tests were passed and table maintenance skills were high enough, the waiter would get dinner shifts and start making good money.
It was a lot to take in, and I felt like I was back in college. In those days, I was strictly a beer drinker and I knew nothing about wine, fine food, or liquor. I remember fumbling with the wine tool, trying to get accustomed to opening bottles of wine with style. I got yelled at all the time by the powers that be, which was hard on me. The job was physically, mentally, and emotionally demanding. There were a few times when I felt like giving up and trying something else.
Even though I was crippled by depression and anxiety, I was determined to succeed. I just thought about how much I needed to have my own apartment and reminded myself that waiting tables is a very portable skill. After many weeks of hard work, I did eventually make it to a venerable dinner waiter position and even trained some people. But there were many meltdowns along the way… and at first, quite a few people thought I might be one of the many people who didn’t make it through the first week of training. I worked at The Trellis for about a year and a half before I left to go to graduate school.
One of the captains working at The Trellis in 1998 was a guy named CW. I was immediately impressed and inspired by him. He was hardworking, funny, and kind. However, he was also very detailed oriented and task directed. I liked and respected him immediately, especially when I learned that when he started at The Trellis, he took the bus all the way from Norfolk, Virginia to get to work. There were times he missed the last bus home. Still, he showed up to work every day on time and busted his ass to provide great service and make money. He was tough when he needed to be, yet compassionate. CW was a fine role model.
CW left The Trellis a few months after I started working there. I remember his farewell at line up one day. He announced that he was going to work at Kinkead’s, a legendary (and now defunct) restaurant in Washington, DC. I remember the kind send off he received from the restaurant’s more senior staffers. Years later, when I turned 30, Bill and I celebrated at Kinkead’s because I remember CW talking about it. He didn’t wait on us, but I remember that birthday dinner as one of the first of many great meals Bill and I have had together.
CW still works in DC, and has had the opportunity to work at a lot of great restaurants with some amazing chefs. He is now studying to become a wine expert, specifically in German wines. Last week, as part of his sommelier training, he came to the Rheingau to work at a winery. We had the opportunity to meet up in Mainz last night. Even though I hadn’t seen him since 1998, he was easy to spot and there wasn’t a moment of awkwardness all evening.
We had a lovely evening at a Weinstube called Weinhaus zum Spiegel. It’s a charming place in one of the many “alleys and alcoves” in Mainz, a city Bill and I are still getting to know. Over several glasses of wine and small plates, CW, Bill, and I talked for several hours. Here are a few photos from our evening. I do mean a “few” photos, because we were so focused on chatting that there wasn’t much time for picture taking.
I’ve taken a photo of this cool fountain before. It’s called the Fastnachtsbrunnen “Carnival Fountain” and it was built in 1967.A few weeks ago, I wrote about finding these bronze plaques in our town. We found three more in Mainz. I’ll have to look up these names to find out their story.I enjoyed the bric-a-brac on the walls. This wine house was very charming and traditional…The menu is mostly wine… with lots of “small plates” and snacks. I had Spundekäs with pretzels, a Mainz speciality. Bill had ham with Paarweg (rolls that are attached), pickles, hard boiled egg, and tomato.CW had the housemade cold cut platter, with wurst, Paarweg, pickles, and vegetables.You can’t miss the sign.
Weinhaus zum Spiegel is in a super charming timbered building. I wish I had gotten a picture of it when the sun was still shining. We’ll have to go back to Mainz so I can get a proper photo of the historic looking edifice. I can’t say I was terribly impressed by the food, especially since I had originally wanted smoked trout and they were out of it. I did see a lot of people enjoying Federweisser (new wine) and Zwiebelkuchen (onion “cake”, which looks more like a tart). Although Zwiebelkuchen is a famous dish in southern Germany and popular this time of year, I still have yet to try it. I wish I’d had it last night, although I did like the Spundekäs.
Anyway, we weren’t really there for food as much as we were the company, and CW is excellent company. It was exciting to hear about his plans to break into the German wine industry. Who knows? He may soon join us over here… if we don’t end up having to move again. He has many tales of working in Washington, DC and dealing with some major high maintenance folks– politicians and their ilk– as well as some surprisingly down to earth celebrities.
We finally called it a night at about 10:30, when it was becoming clear that the Weinstube was winding down its service. As Bill and I made our way home, I was musing about how special the memories of working at The Trellis are to some of us. It was a place where I went through many different levels of hell. I remember “shitting Twinkies”, as CW once put it, on the terrace on beautiful spring and fall afternoons and major holidays. I lost a lot of weight working there, and also found myself in therapy and on medication to finally deal with the depression and anxiety that had hindered me for so long. I made enough money to get health insurance, and gathered the resolve to seek the help I desperately needed. I socked away money for the day when I would finally move out on my own. Finally, when I was ready, I launched into graduate school, which led to this “overeducated housewife” lifestyle I currently enjoy.
I only worked at The Trellis for about 18 months, and much of the actual job was hell, but I left there with so many friends I can still count on today, even twenty years after my last shift. We’re all scattered around the world now, but we have the camaraderie of that common experience binding us and, through the magic of Facebook, can stay in touch. And, just like CW, when it was time to leave, I got a warm send off, complete with a signed cookbook from Marcel, and a song from the resident harp guitarist, Stephen Bennett, whose music got me through so many horrific Saturday night dinner shifts. I learned about good food, fine wines, table maintenance, hard work, and even great music. Not only did I discover Stephen Bennett at The Trellis, I also made enough money to invest in voice lessons for myself! And, as difficult as it all was, working at the Trellis absolutely changed my life for the better. In fact, working there might have even saved my life, given my mental state at the time. 😉
The Trellis still exists in Williamsburg, but it now has different owners and is no longer a fine dining establishment. I haven’t been there to try its new incarnation. I’m not sure I could bear it. I think I’d rather remember it the way it was back in the day.
Cheers to all of my former Trellis colleagues who once shat Twinkies in the weeds with me!And cheers to CW as he continues his path to bigger and better things!I have a feeling our paths could cross again on this side of the Atlantic.
After checking out the cathedral, I decided I was very tired and my feet were killing me. It was the perfect time to reacquaint myself with Vienna’s easy to figure out metro, which I used quite a bit when I visited in 1997. Bill and I quickly determined our hotel was near the U4 line. The Stephen’s Dom cathedral was on another line, but we only had to go one stop to Karlsplatz to switch trains. Before we knew it, we were just a couple of minutes away from the hotel. While I was on the train, I noticed quite a few young people gloriously free of adult interference. I couldn’t help but think how Americans would react had we been in the United States. A couple of the kids appeared to be about ten years old, yet they were doing just fine on the U bahn, all by themselves!
We went to the hotel room. I took off my shoes and started watching crappy 70s and 80s TV shows dubbed in German. I never thought I’d see CHiPs on regular TV again. I was never a Knight Rider fan, but I did watch an episode and realized why David Hasselhoff was so popular in the 80s. We had plans to meet Herbert and Susanne at 6:00. We went back to the coffee house we’d visited earlier in the day for a snack. I had chicken soup and a Gosser beer, which I used to drink all the time when I lived in Armenia. Bill had an open faced sandwich and a beer. The same guy waited on us.
Quite a nice Austrian lager.
A little snack. We thought we’d be going to the concert and didn’t want to get hangry. I had a bit of an upset stomach, so I went for something mild. The soup reminded me of Lipton Cup O’Noodles, only it was much better tasting and obviously homemade. The noodles were similar, though.
Bill thought we were supposed to meet them at the opera house, a massive, centrally located structure. Actually, we were supposed to go back to the cathedral. Bill ended up having to call Herbert to connect with them. By the time we met Herbert and Susanne, it was about 6:20. We were supposed to go to the concert at 8:00pm.
Herbert and his girlfriend strolled with us around Vienna. Susanne was born and raised there and Herbert has lived there for 15 years. They pointed out a TGIFriday’s and seemed rather surprised when I said it was a popular American chain restaurant. Susanne was a little self-conscious about her English, but it was way better than my German.
We eventually got on the tram and went near the Rathaus, which is a very beautiful building. We strolled around Vienna’s rose garden, which we were told would be in full bloom the following month. And then we stopped for a drink. Herbert and Susanne were worried about us missing the concert, but we repeatedly told them it was okay. Yes, Bill spent about 80 euros for tickets, but I had read the reviews and had low expectations. We probably would have spent that on dinner Thursday night if we’d had it. Besides, while I might have liked the concert well enough, I figure an investment in a friendship is more valuable. We were hitting it off with Herbert and Susanne, who confessed they’d only been together for a couple of months.
It was great meeting locals and talking with them about life in Vienna. It made the city more personal and, I think, will make it a more welcoming place when we visit again. I think we will, too. It’s amazing that all I knew about Herbert was hearing his voice on SingSnap. Now I can put a face to the name. He is a very interesting guy, too.
Nighttime shots. I remembered the above from last time I visited in ’97. Seems like these are in other Austrian cities, too. I remember seeing one in St. Polten. ETA: My friend Susanne posted this… basically, this was erected to commemorate the plague. They are all over Austria and Germany.
On the way back to the hotel, we stopped at a Wienerwald, a local chicken chain. Bill and I ate at one in Boeblingen back in 2007 or so and we liked the food alright. We wanted to have something to eat before bed. The restaurant was absolutely teeming with kids… again, all unsupervised. But all they were doing was being loud. They otherwise functioned just fine on their own! It was refreshing!
I couldn’t eat much of this, but it kept me from getting really hungry.
A little fun with Viennese ads in the metro…
The Viennese U-Bahn is pretty great. It’s easy to figure out and they even offer magazines to read if you’re lucky enough to sit down. Ticket machines offer English translation and there’s a flat rate for all destinations within the city– 2.20 euros a ride. You can also buy in bulk or get multiple trip tickets for less! Next time, we’ll do that.
I had been itching to do some karaoke in front of a live audience for some time. I do a lot of karaoke on SingSnap.com, which is an online karaoke site. But there’s nothing like performing live. Babuder’s is a nice place located on a side street called Tiefer Graben. When we arrived at about 7:00pm on Thursday night, the place was just opening up. Bill and I selected a table and ordered a couple of local beers. Herbert was already there, but we had never met in person before. I only knew him from comments and private messages on my recordings. Sometimes Herbert joins me in duets and I’ve come to enjoy his witty observations.
Anyway, I was feeling a little shy. Karaoke at Babuder’s is a little different than what I’m used to. Instead of looking through books of available songs and handing the KJ slips of paper with requests, you just go up to him and ask him for songs. They have a database with over 30,000 songs, so chances are good they’ll have what you want. But not being able to browse through a book means you have to think of something to sing rather than have something suggested. You also have no idea what version of karaoke song you’ll get. They are not all created equally.
I started with “Blue Bayou”, which I’ve done hundreds of times. I got up on the little stage, feeling oddly nervous in front of all the Viennese locals. There weren’t actually that many people there, but I was jittery anyway. I eventually relaxed and enjoyed the rush. I spotted the resident Queen Bee in the corner. She was very cute and probably at least twenty years younger than me. She had a couple of girlfriends with her and one of the guys who worked there, a young guy with muscles, appeared to be hitting on her. I have to admit, the Queen Bee had a good voice. Fortunately, our styles were different.
As the night wore on, Herbert and Bill started bonding. Herbert is a very interesting guy. He’s in his early 60s. His parents were Czech, but he was born and raised in Ludwigsburg, which is a town very close to Stuttgart. He speaks English, German, Polish, Russian, and, based on one of his karaoke performances, French. He has three master’s degrees and a voice that reminds me a bit of Bob Dylan’s. He and Bill really seemed to hit it off and they talked a lot while I got up and sang stuff by Alison Krauss, Kate Bush, The Carpenters, and more Linda Ronstadt. To my knowledge, no one filmed me… I’m glad of that! One thing I did notice was that most of the people at Babuder’s could sing quite competently. It also appeared to be a very gay friendly place, though most everyone was subdued. One guy started speaking rapid fire German to me and I answered that I speak no German in German. He switched to English. It turned out he was a Brit.
Bill is unimpressed…
Decent beer. They had peanuts and pretzels, but I didn’t notice any other food.
The party was winding down.
Not the best photo of the sign outside.
Herbert wanted to get together on Friday night so we could meet his girlfriend and they could show us around Vienna. We left Babuder’s at about 11:00 and caught a cab back to our hotel, where we both promptly crashed. I would have liked to have gone back to Babuder’s, but there was a lot of other stuff we wanted to see and do. Herbert says Thursday nights at Babuder’s are good because it’s not too crowded. If we get back to Vienna, we will have to visit again.
The weather was nicer today, though still pretty chilly. We took the dogs for a walk before we did our shopping. Zane especially enjoyed himself, though it was pretty messy going thanks to the soggy ground and occasional ice patches. On the way back, we ran into a very pleasant German couple who seemed to enjoy our hounds. I got to tell the husband that I can’t speak German. Still working on it, though, and making progress in understanding at least.
Well, it was another typical Sunday in Germany and we’re still in our usual rut over having lunch at The Auld Rogue. Indeed, we did go there today after stopping at Panzer for two top ups for our phones, a new pie plate, and a bigger mixing bowl. Somehow, I neglected to pack a pie plate, even though I know we have at least one in storage. We also didn’t pack any decent sized mixing bowls and I have a hankering to make a blackout cake for my husband. When I do, I’ll have to take a photo of it. It’s a thing of beauty. Bill will no doubt take some to work, too, since there’s no way the two of us can eat the whole thing before it goes stale.
On our way into AAFES, Bill caught sight of a familiar face. It turned out to belong to a guy Bill worked with at the Pentagon from 2001-03. He and his wife attended our wedding in Lexington, Virginia, and we bought them gifts for their adorable infant daughter who is now about 11 years old. Their son, a toddler when we last saw them, must be an early teen now. Bill traded business cards with his old friend and I expect we might hang out once or twice. It was nice to see them again. You never know who you’ll run into when you’re affiliated with the military.
We de-Christmased our house and, I’m hoping, tomorrow we’ll be able to start planning a quick getaway for MLK weekend so I can write about something other than life in Germany. I am more than ready to travel so I can write more on my travel blog.
No pictures today… but you can bet there will be more soon.
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