Three countries in one daaaaayng
Jeff thinks this headline is cheesy, and ignore the fact that “dang” is spelled wrong. But, seriously, on Saturday, I was in three countries on one day without ever once stepping foot in an airplane. That’s pretty DAYNG cool. (Jeff was busy flying to Israel, Greece and France. Lame.)
Saturday, one of the pilot’s wives (Deb) planned an outing, complete with brown rented minivan, to a glass-blowing exhibit on the outskirts of Aachen. I’m pretty sure “outskirts” meant Holland because we definitely entered a new country — new language, new roadsigns, and a new way to say ‘thank you’ (dank u, as opposed to danke in German). The presentation was in Dutch, but we had a nice bilingual gentleman sitting among us who shouted out quick English translations, much to the dismay of a whiny adolescent in front of us, who just thought we were a bunch of noisy Americans. The one thing that really stuck with me is that once the glass is blown, it cools in a 500-degree oven. Not sure if that’s Fahrenheit or Celsius. Either way, it’s pretty smoky. Oh, and the artisan made a glass horse in about 15 seconds. Incredible.
Here he is, spinning a platter.
The glass work was beautiful, and I bought myself a 35 Euro vase off the clearance rack. It matches the new counter-top in our to-be apartment. I love that on the bottom you can actually see the scar left from the glass-blowing tube. Makes it feel more like art, and less like something I bought from the HomeGoods section of TJ Maxx (called TK Maxx in Deutschland, by the way).
On the way to the “outskirts of Aachen,” I moved from minivan to Mini-Cooper with Nancy, Gail and Zukhra. Our GPS took us off-track about seven times, and I was thrilled to hear one of the FedEx wives say “shit.” License to swear! I’d been worried I was the crude one of the bunch. I didn’t hear too many F-bombs, but I look forward to breaking that ice.
Following Aachen, we made our way to the top of a large hill, from which you can see the Netherlands, Germany and Belgium. On the way, we got lost again (surprise!), and we actually ended up in Belgium. All the road signs turned to French, there were a lot more horses, and of course, thank you is said “merci.” Thanks, Ms. Henderson, for the four years of French.
Here’s another great view — not sure the country — we found along the way to never-Nederland.
We eventually arrived and met up with the other families. From “the hill” was a lookout tower, from which you can see the three countries we’d already been lost in. Snapped this photo with Gail, and behind us is Holland.
We also partook in more meat, french fries and beer, while some of the kiddos got lost in the labyrinth maze, also at the top of this hill.
We loved the beer from lunch so much, we went back to Belgium to a small grocery store, where we bought more Duvel, cookies, and of course, Belgian chocolate.
Then, it was back in the school bus and home to Germany.
That concluded Saturday. More on Sunday later …
Raw Pork and Other German Food Finds
Yep, we ate raw pork. It’s called “mettwurst” in German. Smoked, and often cured, this delicacy was spread on a slab of bread with some salt and onion and chased with a half liter of beer to kill whatever bacteria was not annihilated in the curing process.
I know, you’re probably gagging, but it was actually tasty. We never would have tried this pig-sushi without our new friends, Emily and Nick. Nick is a native, and Emily is his American wife who has lived here for the past six years. (Thanks, Bethany Rock, for the introduction!). Though it was tasty, I convinced myself later in the evening I had a stomach ache. Probably because I’ve been told since childhood that raw meat is a no-no, especially pork!
Here’s a pic of Jeff and I ‘toasting’ to spreadable Wilbur. Prost.
Next, our foursome journeyed to a walk-up, take-out food-stand, where we sampled some other authentic German cuisine — Currywurst. This is essentially a sausage, cut into small pieces, drowning in what I non-eloquently described as “curry ketchup.” We ate it with miniature, two-tined wooden forks. Mmmm…
We followed our pork injection with a short walk down the Rhine to burn some calories. Here are a couple shots. These four homes are very famous, but I don’t recall why.
Slightly off the Rhine path, we found a full moon. In his silent protest for paying high taxes year over year, a local installed this gem facing city hall.
After our 15, maybe 20 minute, walk, we journeyed to our next pub, where we experienced some more local traditions: pig knuckles and Kolsch, a local beer that is served in .21 liter glasses and replaced automatically by the waiter/waitress after one is finished. The wait staff then tallies your consumption on a coaster. We finished 22.
As for dinner, Jeff sampled the pig knuckle. Don’t be fooled by the word knuckle. This thing is HUGE. You can order it either baked or deep fried. In effort to cut back on calories, Jeff opted for the baked version. Here are the before and after shots.
I had mussels. Just a few.
That’s it for the local cuisine. More to come on the other international treats we’ve ingested since our arrival. This is a foodie town, and I couldn’t be happier.
Here’s to vegetables.
Until next time…
A European Adventure 