Travelogue LXV: Humans of Vermont II

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAJanuary 5, 2017 Jonathan and I have flown in from opposite sides of the planet to spend Christmas in Vermont. We have a place to stay together thanks to the wonderful hospitality of Katharina and Glenn, who have lent us the use of the tiny cabin/sauna up the hill from the home they finished building last summer. OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAHere’s a look into the beautiful space Katharina and Glenn have created for themselves, using timbers from an old deconstructed barn. The house is on a back road about fifteen minutes from my family’s farm, surrounded by the other cabins and homes Glenn has built over the decades. They have big plans for the place–an outdoor kitchen this summer, an amphitheater built into the hillside, grapes on the south-facing slope, animals to keep the fields clear. They want a space for collaborative living, for projects and creators of all kinds.

During the day, the sun pours in the wall of south-facing windows, flooding the living room and kitchen with light and making the two wood stoves that heat the place almost irrelevant. But it is winter in Vermont, and the nights are long and it’s pitch black and ice cold again by 4:30. We spend the evenings installing speakers and a turntable for Glenn’s massive collection of records, or reading under a petroleum lamp in our cabin up the road. We trail along with Glenn and Katharina to a solstice celebration, a bonfire and poetry followed by bluegrass fiddling. One night we haul apple pie and wine up the hill and fire up the sauna. It’s snowing hard, and after we are thoroughly sweating we step outside and rub ice into our backs.

For Jonathan and me, it’s offered us space to reconnect after months of 5,600 miles of separation, and to make some pretty big and exciting plans about our future. And, of course, a chance to rest and revel in Vermont’s beauty. Jonathan has split wood and driven trucks to his heart’s content, and I’ve seen my mountains again.

Und es war alles, alles gut. 

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The sauna up the hill, where we are staying.

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Travelogue LXIII: Vermont I: Landscape

September 1st, 2016 I’ve been back in Vermont for two weeks now. At the end of the day, this place comes and will always come closer to home than anywhere else I might live. It’s in my blood, familiar as the back of my hand.

The aesthetics of Vermont are winning me over again, as they always do. It’s a sort of resting, this–to stare into the distance and see nothing but woods and clouds and perhaps a single mown field on the horizon. You can hardly do that in Germany. It’s a country full of green spaces, but with 82 million people in a land the size of Montana, the next village is almost always in sight. Here, so much of what one sees is defined by emptiness, and that emptiness is breathtaking.

This time, instead of posting my own photos I am handing things over to my very talented mother and sister, who have captured a great deal of beauty on the farm in the last two years. Most of the pictures were taken from our front porch.

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Travelogue LXX: Sweden

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The wood-fired sauna in the back garden of friends. In Germany, saunas are a sort of Holy of Holies–no talking, no eating, no nonsense. In Sweden, well, there are often beer bottle openers nailed up to the doors.

June 3, 2016 Last Friday morning I found myself for the first time in six months suddenly no longer writing a thesis. A surreal experience, that, to hold in my hands the culminating project of the degree I came to Germany to get. At any rate, a bit of celebration was in order.

Jonathan had been invited to give a lecture at the Swedish Wine Association, and I took the train up to join him a few days later in Varberg, a tiny town on the Western coast. He spent a couple years helping build up a young winery there, and still has deep connections to the people who run the place.

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Ästad Vingård, the winery.

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Consulting services for a small-scale ecological wine grower.

And so we spent the first couple days attending to business at the winery, or rather Jonathan attended to business and I looked at everything and tried simultaneously to learn Swedish and to not break anything and also drank a lot of wine. On the second day, we spent six hours perched on the back of a four-wheeler spreading natural fertilizer on grape vines and singing Irish drinking songs at the top of our lungs. On the third day, we cleaned out and tilled a little garden plot for a friend and then ran and jumped in the North Sea, which was disgustingly frigid. It doesn’t get much more romantic than that.

Even if I hadn’t been experiencing it all with a particularly dear human being, I still would have reveled in it. This new world I have been introduced to in the last few months–the vineyards, the people who work them, the wine cellars and shops and curious tourists who keep the family business afloat–is something I knowSheep people are not that much different than wine people, at the end of the day. Agritourism is agritourism, no matter which side of the pond you are on. I find the same vocabulary and passions on a winery on the coast of Sweden that I do on a tiny sheep farm in central Vermont. And the more I journey on into the heady world of academia and scholarship, the more I find myself eternally drawn back to these things.

Anyway, in exchange for the work we got two nights in the winery inn–lovely room, wood-fired saunas, three-course dinners in the restaurant followed by all the delights of an open bar. A fair trade, if you ask me.

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Barefoot gardening 100 meters from the North Sea.

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There were wood-fired hot tubs next to the saunas, yo.

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Typical Swedish architecture–wooden construction, straw roofing (below).

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAOn the last day, we walked up the coast outside of Varberg–a surreal, rugged world of rocks and seaweed and trees bent over backwards from the wind off the sea. Gray and monotone when shot through a macro lens, but infinitely detailed and colorful and rich when viewed up close.

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Looking back at Varberg’s fortress and harbor.

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Varberg’s harbor.

Then it was over, and we made the 15-hour journey back home–through three countries, change trains in Copenhagen and Hamburg, take the ferry into Germany, arrive in Mainz in the pitch black and catch the last bus home.

After so much time on trains, their rhythm and swing get into your bones. For hours afterwards you feel like your entire world is moving, like you are still rushing on into the night with rain water slanting off the windows.

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Half-way between Denmark and Germany.

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Travelogue LXXIII: Spring

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Mount Belchen in the Black Forest in southern Germany, where I spent Easter.

Osterspaziergang

Vom Eise befreit sind Strom und Bäche
durch des Frühlings holden belebenden Blick,
im Tale grünet Hoffnungsglück;
der alte Winter, in seiner Schwäche,
zog sich in rauhe Berge zurück.
Von dort her sendet er, fliehend, nur
ohnmächtige Schauer körnigen Eises
in Streifen über die grünende Flur.
Aber die Sonne duldet kein Weißes,
überall regt sich Bildung und Streben,
alles will sie mit Farben beleben;
doch an Blumen fehlt’s im Revier,
sie nimmt geputzte Menschen dafür.

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A view into the Black Forest from the local castle ruins.

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Staufen

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAKehre dich um, von diesen Höhen
nach der Stadt zurückzusehen!
Aus dem hohlen, finstern Tor
dringt ein buntes Gewimmel hervor.
Jeder sonnt sich heute so gern.
Sie feiern die Auferstehung des Herrn,
denn sie sind selber auferstanden:
aus niedriger Häuser dumpfen Gemächern,
aus Handwerks- und Gewerbesbanden,
aus dem Druck von Giebeln und Dächern,
aus den Straßen quetschender Enge,
aus der Kirchen ehrwürdiger Nacht
sind sie alle ans Licht gebracht.

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Dialect: Wein (wine) becomes Woi in Mainz, Wii in Staufen

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Brunch

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OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERASieh nur, sieh! wie behend sich die Menge
durch die Gärten und Felder zerschlägt,
wie der Fluß in Breit und Länge
so manchen lustigen Nachen bewegt,
und, bis zum Sinken überladen,
entfernt sich dieser letzte Kahn.
Selbst von des Berges fernen Pfaden
blinken uns farbige Kleider an.
Ich höre schon des Dorfs Getümmel,
hier ist des Volkes wahrer Himmel,
zufrieden jauchzet groß und klein:
Hier bin ich Mensch, hier darf ich’s sein!

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Faust I

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Spring

 

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Travelogue LXXI: Weinbergen

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAFebruary 28, 2016 Yesterday, the sun shone in Germany–really shone, with a strength and warmth that have been absent for months. And when the sun shines in Germany in the winter, you leave the libraries at the university behind and you get out and you do something.

So we packed a picnic lunch and tea and tools into the back of a rattly rainbow Volkswagen and drove into the Weinbergen (vineyards; literally “wine mountains,” which I think is much more poetic). In the late winter the vintners begin the process of pruning the grape vines in preparation for the next growing season, and I was lucky enough to be invited by one particular vine-pruner to tag along.

And it was marvelous.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAOLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAThe vineyards of the Rheingau are almost ridiculously steep, falling straight down to the banks of the river. The slopes are covered in slippery silver-blue or red slate. Standing upright requires strong legs and a good sense of balance; actually doing something at any level of efficiency while standing upright requires genuine skill.

In these vineyards, the steepness means that all of the work is still done by hand, using techniques that have been in place for centuries. Pruners now use battery-powered clippers, but the process is still the same: cutting away old or unwanted growth from each plant and training selected shoots to grow in the proper directions. It all sounds simple enough, but is in fact anything but–every plant is a decision, a tiny work of art, shaped and re-shaped over a period of decades by dozens of hands.

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Stone steps are built into the walls to access lower terraces.

And so we worked. Or rather, J. pruned like a professional while I took pictures, did not fall off any walls, tried not to cut off the wrong things, and generally enjoyed myself more than I have in a long time.

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Hands down the most excellent vine-pruner in the Rheingau.

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Different types of slate.

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Battery-powered clippers.

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Yes, that’s me cutting grape vines in a flannel shirt from Vermont in a vineyard on the Rhine. With thousand-year-old-castle ruins in the background. Sometimes it is possible to get the miraculousness of existence into a photograph. 

I think the rest of the pictures speak for themselves. Even from the most distant of perspectives, the Rheingau in late February, perched on the dividing line between winter and spring, is pretty dang gorgeous.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAOLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAOLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAOLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAOLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAOLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAOLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAOLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAAt the end of the day, we hiked up to the very top of the ridge. Tired legs, chapped hands, lunch long forgotten. But the sun was slowly falling towards the mountains on the other side of Rhine and we didn’t want to go.

I’ve never been one for meditation in any traditional form. But this, I thought, sitting on a bench and looking at the mountains and not being alone, this comes pretty close.

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A gazebo at the very top of the mountain, with a self-service shelf of wine and glasses for hikers.

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Gloaming. Dämmerung.

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Sunset. Sonnenuntergang.

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Travelogue LXIX: Snow

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My roofs.

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St. Stephan’s.

January 17th, 2016 Sometimes, you find yourself dancing in some dive bar in the Neustadt at four in the morning. And then sometimes you look out the window to find that it is snowing, really snowing, for the first time since last winter, and the entire world is delighted. You run to the window and laugh, and everyone runs to the window and laughs, and someone opens the door and white fat flakes blow on to the dance floor. You step into the street, and they melt on hot skin. Even the DJ is euphoric.

And then you wake up the next morning after three hours of sleep and take your camera and run out into the cold because this is something.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAOLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAOLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAOLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAOLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAOLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAAnd then you skip back to your warm apartment to sleep off your hangover, and the air is full of church bells and the cafés full of Sunday-brunchers, and you are very much content.

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The Sunday-brunchers.

Travelogue LXVI: Herr, es ist Zeit

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Herbsttag / Autumn Day

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Herr: Es ist Zeit. Der Sommer war sehr groß. / Lord, it is time. The summer was immense.

Leg deinen Schatten auf die Sonnenuhren / Lay your shadow on the sundials

Leg deinen Schatten auf die Sonnenuhren / Lay your shadow on the sundials

und auf den Fluren laß die Winde los. / and let loose the wind in the fields.

und auf den Fluren laß die Winde los. / and let loose the wind in the fields.

Befiehl den letzten Früchten reif zu sein / gib Ihnen noch zwei südlichere Tage / Bid the last fruits to be full; / give them two more southerly days

Befiehl den letzten Früchten voll zu sein / Bid the last fruits to be full

gib Ihnen noch zwei südlichere Tage / give them two more southerly days,

gib Ihnen noch zwei südlichere Tage / give them two more southerly days,

dräng sie zur Vollendung hin und jage / die letzte Süße in den schweren Wein. / press them to ripeness, and chase / the last sweetness into the heavy wine.

dräng sie zur Vollendung hin und jage / press them to ripeness, and chase

die letzte Süße in den schweren Wein. / the last sweetness into the heavy wine.

die letzte Süße in den schweren Wein. / the last sweetness into the heavy wine.

Wer jetzt kein Haus hat, baut sich keines mehr / Whoever has no house now will not build one anymore

Wer jetzt kein Haus hat, baut sich keines mehr / Whoever has no house now will not build one anymore

wer jetzt allein ist, wird es lange bleiben, / Whoever is alone now will remain so for a long time,

wer jetzt allein ist, wird es lange bleiben, / Whoever is alone now will remain so for a long time,

wird lesen, wachen, lange Briefe schreiben / will stay up, read, write long letters

wird wachen, lesen, lange Briefe schreiben / will stay up, read, write long letters

und wird auf den Alleen hin und her / and wander the avenues, up and down,

und wird in den Alleen hin und her / and wander the avenues, up and down,

unruhig wandern, wenn die Blätter treiben. / restlessly, while the leaves are blowing.

unruhig wandern, wenn die Blätter treiben. / restlessly, while the leaves are blowing.

Rainer Maria Rilke

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Travelogue LXI: Gotland III: Landscape

Yoga under a sea stack on Fårö Island.

Yoga under a sea stack on Fårö Island. As far north as I’ve ever been in my life. 

September 24, 2015 One final post on Gotland–I’ve written about the people and the farms, but nothing about the natural landscape itself, which is, after all, the backdrop to and shaper of everything that goes on on the Island.

Gotland makes Mainz seem tame and domesticated, civilized to the point of complete docility. In Germany, the pre-Christian, pre-modern past is hidden behind layers of growth and technology and gorgeous Baroque cathedrals. You can almost fool yourself into thinking it never existed–that Germany has always been this post-Enlightenment land driven by progress and the Church. On Gotland, however, it all feels very close–the Vikings, the wooden ships, Odin and Valhalla and all the rest. Portrayals of Mary are more similar to Freia than to anything Christian. On Fårö, the tiny island to the north of Gotland, farmers still raise their livestock in thatched barns and behind stone walls.

One of the 92 (!!) churches still in weekly use on the island. They were built between the 11th and 12th centuries--Romanesque or Gothic architecture, sometimes with a defense tower in front.

One of the 92 (!!) nearly-identical churches still in weekly use on the island. Nearly all were built between the 11th and 12th centuries–Romanesque or Gothic architecture, sometimes with a defense tower in front.

Cathedral ruins in Visby. Many catholic churches on the island were abandoned after the Reformation.

Cathedral ruins in Visby. Many catholic churches on the island were abandoned after the Reformation.

The museum in Visby had a fascinating collection of engraved stones, both pre- and post-Christianity. Here, a woman holds a snake as part of a pagan ritual.

The museum in Visby had a fascinating collection of engraved stones, both pre- and post-Christianity. Here, a woman holds a snake as part of a pagan ritual.

Christian and pagan imagery combine.

Christian and pagan imagery combine.

Boats outside of a small fishing village.

Boats outside of a small fishing village.

Fishing huts with stakes driven into the ground for drying the nets.

Fishing huts with stakes driven into the ground for drying the nets.

Thatched barn on Fårö Island.

Thatched barn and windmill on Fårö Island.

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Another fishing village on  Fårö.

Another fishing village on Fårö, only accessible by a winding track along the edge of the ocean. The rental car took a bit of a beating, there.  

White limestone beaches.

White limestone beaches.

The northernmost point of  Fårö is lined with Sea Stacks, limestone towers formed over millennia by wind and water.

The northernmost point of Fårö is lined with Sea Stacks, limestone towers formed over millennia by wind and water.

Lilla Karlsö Island off the eastern coast of Gotland, where one farmer we talked to grazes several hundred sheep.

Lilla Karlsö Island off the eastern coast of Gotland, where one farmer we talked to grazes several hundred sheep. There were dozens of white swans swimming in the Baltic along this stretch of the coast. 

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Travelogue XLIX: Weinkultur

 

At the Weinfest am Kirchenstück.

At the Weinfest am Kirchenstück.

July 5, 2015 Most Americans associate Germany with beer–Pilsner and Weizen, Oktoberfest, etc etc. But I am living in Rheinhessen, the single largest wine-producing area in the country, which means that the Germany I know is the land of wine. Weinkultur–Wine Culture–is definitely a thing.

Here, wine is much more than something you pour at dinner, is about much more than the alcohol content. You don’t just drink wine–you talk about it, you debate and discuss, you admire. You make a trip once a year to your favorite tiny winery somewhere in Flomborn or Büdesheim or Bingen and come back with a trunk full of €600 worth of champagne. You sit every Friday night in the same Weinstube you have been going to since after the Second World war and make speeches about the Riesling for the benefit of the Mädchen from America.

It’s an art form in and of itself, talking about wine, and the amount of knowledge and genuine passion the average Weinstube-goer brings to the discussion is absolutely staggering. It’s like the way my little brother talks about baseball, or the way my piano teacher could compare the voices of Fischer-Dieskau and Wunderlich–the finest of nuances spun out into story, with a whole poetic vocabulary and symbolism to match.

I’m learning, too. After a year, I know what I like–dry Riesling, a good Rosé, and every now and then an Auslese because they taste like whatever the gods were drinking on Homer’s Olympus. But I’m no expert, can’t work out all the tiny differences that transform the drinking and talking about of wine into a sort of creative act.

Yet, anyway.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAIn Mainz, the opportunities to celebrate, learn about, and, most importantly, to drink wine abound. The city is one of the eight Great Wine Capitals in the world, after all, and people are verdammt proud of it.

At the University of Mainz, for instance, the student-run group Uni Vinum organizes a “Wine Express” once a month for students–€15, a charter bus, an afternoon of wine-tasting at a couple of the hundreds of wineries in the area. Most are small family businesses run by multiple generations, with histories that go back hundreds of years. A wine-tasting includes a tour of the vineyards and a presentation of the wines by a member of the family, with plenty of opportunities to ask questions and peek behind the scenes. For newcomers such as myself, it’s perfect.

The drive to diversify--many wineries have a small Gästehaus, or bed-and-breakfast inn.

The need to diversify–many wineries have a small Gästehaus, or bed-and-breakfast inn, alongside the wine business.

For me, equally as fascinating as the wineries themselves is the chance to be on the other side of agritourism for a change. When I am at home, on the farm and bed and breakfast in in Vermont, I live the family business. There, I am the second generation, the daughter on the family farm who serves simultaneously as actress, tour guide, and seductress of the curious strangers whose money allows us to do what we do. At home, as in Germany, it is all about storytelling. My ancestors purchased the land in 1650, I grew up in these vineyards with my father, we are the only fully organic winery in the area–my parents came from the city and started the business from scratch 30 years ago, I spent every summer in the garden with my mother, we are the only farm with Gotland sheep in New England. A family business is a family business, whether in Germany or America, and the rhetoric is always the same.

A multi generational affair: above, the son, below, the father.

A multi generational affair: above, the son (on the right–to the left is Max Lindemann, the force of energy behind Uni Vinum), below, the father.

Storytelling.

Storytelling.

And a cute cat, of course. The presence of a small and fluffy animal is guaranteed to increase the buying power of tourists.

And a cute cat, of course. The presence of a small and fluffy animal is guaranteed to increase the buying power of tourists.

Champagne reception in the garden....

Champagne reception in the garden….

Then into the cellars...

Then into the cellars…

...and then a tractor ride up to the top of the vineyards for wine tasting.

…and then a tractor ride up to the top of the vineyards for wine tasting.

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About 8 wines in. 🙂

For those who want access to more than one winery at a time, however, there are the dozens of wine festivals taking place in the area at any given moment during the summer. They range from tiny–a few stands at the corner of some vineyard on the Rhine–to immense–the Weinmarkt in Mainz lasts for two weekends and attracts hundreds of thousands of visitors.

Last night, for instance, I went to the festival on the Kirchenstück, a small vineyard right outside of downtown Mainz. It was a local affair, almost entirely free of international tourists–no live music, no fancy show, just picnic tables set up between the rows of grape vines and a field turned into a make-shift parking lot. The German couple I was with knew many of the wineries personally.

And it was absolutely gorgeous.

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Weinschorle--half wine, half sparkling water--is very popular when the temperatures are in the mid 90s, as they were last night....

Weinschorle–half wine, half sparkling water–is very popular when the temperatures are in the mid 90s, as they were last night….

A family affair....

A family affair….

The spoils.

The spoils.

Rosé.

Rosé.

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When we left it was nearly midnight, and people were still coming in. Lanterns strung up over the road, crates of empty wine bottles stacked behind the stands, children running down between the long rows of grape vines. They were probably going to be there all night.