Category Archives: Germany

Germany

Into Boxes Again

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In some ways, it was the easiest move I’ve ever done.

Clothes packed into duffel bags and suitcases, books and crockery into boxes, decorative items gently wrapped before being placed into other boxes, frames taken off walls and stacked. Furniture loaded into the car or the van, padded with pillow and blankets. Three or four trips, one to a village a short ways away, and we were done.

And with every trip, things everywhere.

Furniture carefully moved into pre-measured locations, no space to spare. Empty a bag, fill a set of drawers, unzip the next bag, reorganize the drawers.

We spent hours combining two kitchens into one and formed piles: Things we use and love, thing to store for later use, things to donate, things that simply needed to go. Glad we had built a new set of shelves.

Mere days later, the bed stood slightly higher and more items found their place. Shortly thereafter, a new cabinet in the bathroom took care of a general sense of organized chaos.

A beloved photo printed on canvas. More pictures arranged and hung. Every spare surface filled with plants.

Forms filled out, phone calls made, appointments set, items slowly crossed off the bureaucratic to-do list. Agreements set with the landlord, a day spent painting the old apartment, items gradually sold to colleagues, to strangers, other items donated. I’ve always found it pretty easy to part with things.

A new, longer route to work. Depending on the weather, through the city or through the park. Based on the snow conditions, by bike or by bus. Alarm reset to save time for last-minute adjustments.

And then finding rhythm. Alarms ringing at different times, shower occupied morning and evening, discussion of which temperature to wash clothes. Who starts coffee and who makes the bed and are you coming straight home after work?

This move reminded me of my first move: Excitement, joy, family around to help, pizza when everything was done. I have a lot of experience with moves and it makes a difference, having people there to direct, to carry, to organize. It makes a difference, not doing it alone. But this move was yet different in its celebration, in the name labels that went up on the doorbell and mailbox.

This move was not just a change of location, be it part of town or city or country, but a change of circumstance, a change that I’d tried once before in a very different place and very different time. Aware of this, I had a moment shortly before where the world swayed under my feet and I needed time for it to steady itself; I needed time to steady myself.

In many ways, this was the easiest move I’d ever done. In another sense, the ease belies the work it took to get here.

And that’s how it is with transitions, I think. You don’t realize you’re there until you are. And then you step over the threshold.

Welcome home.

Weimar, Germany – January 2024
Germany

Winter Wonderland

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There’s something really magical about the first real snowfall, despite the slow drivers on roads, icy bike paths, and bus delays. When it started to snow a couple days ago, my grade 11 class stood up as one unit and clustered around the windows, pressing their noses to the glass, taking photos. When my grade 7 class came in a few minutes later, they dropped their bags at their chairs and ran to the windows as well. To say the least, it was heartwarming to see the whole class, comprised of individuals who normally erupt into chaos upon being so physically close to one another, crowded in one line against the windows, looking out at the trees and rooftops.

The first snow is one of those moments where children see the environment in a totally new way, even though it happens every year, and where adults remember what it feels like to be children. Walking home from the climbing hall last night, a route I decided not to take with my bike due to my earlier encounter with unpleasant riding conditions, we sang quietly, “It’s snowing, it’s snowing, it’s snowing.” Our wonderland air was crisp and cold, fresh, winter.

On the way to school, again choosing to leave the bike at home, I walked under the sort of trees that inspire illustrations in children’s books and watched the red glow beginning on the horizon. As my first students came in for the day, we observed the parting of the clouds, the first rays of gold greeting red rooftops and the tallest tree branches. We don’t always see the sun in wintertime here.

Winter is the Earth’s opportunity to sleep, to rest and restore before coming alive again in spring. Rest and restoration is something we all need, and perhaps the short, dark days can be seen as a way of making the time and space for that. This is also a time to huddle close to family and friends, to warm the hearts, souls, and cold feet. We have visitors coming soon, the Christmas Market has opened, and fresh snow keeps us moving slowly, changing the way we structure our days.

It’s a beautiful time, winter, and I’m glad it’s here.

Germany

A Sweet Start

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Over the weekend I had the opportunity to participate in the wonderful German tradition of the Schuleinführung, the beginning of school for children entering grade one. Also known as Schulanfang, this is the point at which a child becomes a schoolchild. This is a long-awaited moment and the celebration when it finally arrives is a testament to that. Endlich Schulkind! proclaimed decorations, cards, and an invitation we received.

Part of Alles Gute zum ersten Schultag, or wishing a child well on the first day of school, comes the tradition of presenting the child with a Zuckertüte, or cone filled with sweets, gifts, and perhaps school supplies. The cones are often made of highly decorated cardboard, but can also be rather fancier and made of fabric with the name of the child embroidered. Some are as tall as 85 centimetres, out of which quite a few goodies are excitedly unpacked. However, as my German teacher pointed out, a Zuckertüte is also a way to sweeten the serious responsibilities that are about to begin.

On the Saturday before school starts, the soon-to-be grade one children and their parents attend a ceremony at school in which names are called and the Zuckertüten, lovingly prepared by the families in advance, are presented. In the afternoon, the parties begin. Amidst Kaffee und Kuchen and later dinner, guests greet the child, who has been trained to give handshakes and say thank you, and present more gifts and supplies to help a child enter their new phase in life. On this particular swelteringly hot Saturday, plastic pools and children running around in various states of undress were a feature of both parties we attended, as were tables of adult relatives and friends enjoying a range of beverages.

After some time at the first party located in the village firehouse, we remained at the second until after midnight, leaving long after the fireworks that were allowed only because rules in villages are relatively relaxed. At that late hour, some children were still occupied with various painting pursuits and one couple managed a few dances until laughter got the better of them. As is custom in Germany, we said goodbye to each table on our way out, having done just the opposite upon arrival. Everyone is greeted, regardless of whether you know one another or not.

This element of community is something I really enjoy about social events here in Germany, and it was absolutely lovely to be a part of a Zuckertütenfest, the celebration of a child moving forward in the world. For the first of what will be many moments, children get a hint of what is to come, of how they would be expected to comport themselves. This is a big change, an exciting one, and that is indeed something to celebrate.

Zuckertüten have a long history in Germany, and there are regional differences along former East-West lines, as well. (Interesting reading in German here and English here.)

Weimar – July 2021