A Basque-Country Carnival

Let me start by boasting about an improvement in the weather... LOOK!

Before...

After! Not actually the same beach, but you get the idea.

So, I have now been working in France for two whole weeks! *gasp* I thought I would be seriously flagging by now after being softened up to the 12-hour week of a language assistant, but I have actually got into the flow of work and am really enjoying the placement. So yay!

But I'm not going to write about work. This post is about my interesting (and slightly bizarre) experience yesterday at the Biarritz Carnaval! I was a little miffed to be leaving Germany just before the Karneval in Cologne, so I'm glad to say this experience served to compensate a little.

Now, Biarritz is in the Basque country, so one might expect plenty of traditional folk dancing and Basque costumes going on. And you would be right. There were costumes and folk dancing galore. There was, however, a whole lot more to it than that!

My first inkling that something was going on in the city was hearing a weird rhythmic bell/drum beat whilst quietly minding my own business in a café. It turned out to be coming from a group of men dressed in sheepskins and pointy hats, with giant bells strapped to their backs, who marched rhythmically up and down outside the café window. Next came a whole procession of people in costumes (mostly involving paper streamers stuck indiscriminately onto hats, coats and skirts), followed by a road train. Obviously.

Sheep-men with bells

Also among the crowd were plenty of people wearing giant papier maché heads, some of them with slightly disturbing grimacing faces. Almost all of them seemed to be carrying sticks with small beanbag-style sacks hanging from them. The purpose of these was, as far as I could observe, to swing at passing children, who would then attack the bag with their toy swords. (Come to think of it, why did so many children have swords? Must be tradition...) The fancy dress ideas of the other procession members varied from overweight batman to entirely-wrapped-in-scarves, with a whole range of enthusiastic and not-so-enthusiastic participants in between. At the end of the whole parade came a slightly out-of-place-looking almost-rock band with electric guitars, bass, snare drum and accordion, all of them looking very French in their black berets.

One of the less-freaky specimens. Observe stick in hand...

In the meantime, I had received a text from my boss inviting me to one of the town's parks, where there would be more events and her god-daughter would be taking part in a hip-hop dance performance. On the way up there I spotted this wonderful gem:

It's a Battle Crêpes!!! (Or a crêpe battle, in case you hadn't worked that out!) The flyer instructed participants to bring half a dozen crêpes to the Parc Mazon for an epic battle... Only in France!

A crowd seemed to be gathering on the park's fronton court (apparently fronton is a sort of violent form of squash (the sport, not the vegetable) which people in this region are very keen on), so I headed that way and observed the aforementioned procession (minus train) gradually arrive and form a substantial crowd. After a few minutes milling around, we were all shunted to the sides, leaving space for the performances to start. As mentioned, hip-hop dancing ensued, with impressive results (my boss tells me they have a pretty successful club going). After this came some more traditional Basque folk dancing, accompanied by a group of rather shrill whistles/recorders/pipes. Part of the dancing involved some intricate footwork around a glass on the floor, which seemed to be a bit much for the performers, most of whom managed to break theirs. This left the coordinators to rush on and hurriedly sweep up the broken glass and replace it with a new one for the next dancer to break.

Steady...

...ooops!

Hastily replacing the glass

Glass-breaking aside, however, most of the dancing was great, with some very impressive costumes.

Glass-breaking dancers before the glass-breaking occurred

Dancers in baggy shirts, veils and streamer wigs.

Then everyone descended on the court again (slightly worrying with all the broken glass lying around) and enjoyed the many delights on offer such as the bouncy castle, coffee and crêpes (crêpe-battle leftovers perhaps?), and kiddies' tug-of-war. I'm not sure there's anything cuter than seeing a tiny child in a unicorn onesie trying to take on her entire friendship group in a tug-of-war. Another cuteness-overload moment occurred when two tiny children who could barely walk, one in traditional Colombian costume (complete with hat) and one in a tiny tiger onesie, started holding hands and dancing around giggling. The cutest!

Unicorn-onesie had called for reinforcements by this time

After some more general milling around, people seemed to congregate around a small fenced-in area at the far end of the court, where a dummy-man made of clothes stuffed with newspapers was sitting in a chair. I forget what the point of this was, but I gathered from my boss's interpretation of the commentator that the man the dummy represented was supposed to have jumped into some water and made such a big splash that it flooded some important places... Plus he didn't pay for his drinks at a strip club. I'm slightly vague on the details.

But of course, he had to be punished. So they set him on fire, much to the trauma of all the observing children.

Commentator recites the numerous misdeeds. Newspaper man still unsure of his fate...

Three against one! Seems a little unfair...

Things aren't looking great for poor newspaper man

After all this came, of course, some middle aged ladies line-dancing to 'God bless Texas'.

And that, following a lovely meal at my boss's flat (she is the best), was my experience of Carnaval! Beats Cologne any day! I'm just sorry I never found the crêpe battle...

BIARRITZ!!!

I'm feeling too tired and boring to think up a punny post title today, but I will at some point, I promise!

So, as you probably guessed from the title of this post, I have officially arrived in my second year-abroad destination: Biarritz. "Where?" you ask. Good question. I had no idea either until I accepted the job here (about 3 weeks before my placement was due to start - last minute, anyone?), but thought I should probably look up where it was before attempting to travel there. (As you may have guessed from the last post, travelling there was quite an undertaking!) Biarritz is right on France's Atlantic coast, and right in the south, about 40km from the Spanish border. So far so good!

You might be forgiven for imagining a sunny seaside town with beautiful sandy beaches. That's certainly what I thought. And what google images led me to believe. Turns out that the sunny weather only happens in summer, and right now it is definitely still March. Biarritz is currently in the grips of the stormiest storm I've ever seen. Imagine constant rain, thunder and lightning, and gales to make you re-think your decision to accept a ride to work on the back of your colleagues definitely-blow-about-able moped. Umbrellas are a definite no-no. Sad times.

Bit different to how I imagined...

So much rain :( Let's hope my camera forgives me for taking it out in this weather!

But it's not all doom and gloom! Yesterday, I started my shiny brand-new job at a translation agency, and I have to say that so far I am loving it! Although it is a definite shock to the system working 9-5 (well, technically 9.30-5.30) when I've been used to working 12 hours a week as a language assistant, the work is so interesting that the time (so far) has flown by. While the thought of translating boring documents for a living has never exactly appealed to me, this job could not be more different. I'm translating things to do with culture and entertainment, like TV-show subtitles, cartoon scripts, literature, and BDs (Bandes Dessinées - a form of French comic book/graphic novel). Definitely more interesting than the stuff we do at uni!

Adding to the list of pros about Biarritz (the weather is the only real con at the moment, but it's a big one!) is my living situation. I'm staying with a friend of my work colleague's, along with her 3-year-old son. Now, I won't lie. The prospect of living with a 3 year old did not exactly fill me with joy. But, assured by the previous intern (who also lived there) that it wasn't a problem for her, I decided to take the plunge and just go for it. (Who was I to turn down an offer of accommodation which would mean less long-distance organisation on my part!?) So far it has been great! Oona, the lady I'm living with, is really friendly and relaxed, and she keeps offering me more things to make my room feel more like home. I got home today to find that she'd sneaked a rug, chair and lamp into my room. I'm certainly not complaining! What's more, her son is absolutely adorable (well, so far anyway!) I helped him put together some Lego yesterday, so hopefully that put me in his good books! Fingers crossed...

All in all, the transition to France has been much less painful than it could have been, although this could be partly due to the fact that I'm too busy with my sudden full-time job at the moment that I don't have time to think about much else!

I have noticed a few small differences though. So, in the same way that I did when I arrived in Germany, I think I'll list them here:

• Kissing. It's a big thing. Whenever anyone arrives at the office they have to do the rounds and kiss everyone (once on each cheek, which I'm told is relatively few kisses compared with other parts of France!). Sometimes they even do this when they leave the office as well. That adds up to a lot of kisses! I think I prefer the Germans' handshaking. Much less awkward-potential.
• No one here waits at the red man! My inner-German is scandalised.
• Sugar. So much sugar. Cake everywhere... Bit of a contrast to the German salt-obsession. (Not complaining!) 
• French - Here I am back in the oh-no-people-are-expecting-small-talk-and-I-have-no-idea-what-to-say situation. So many times I have bitten back (or not quite bitten back) an ach so! which (sadly) is only met with confusion here. Darn those Frenchies for not speaking German!
• Weird milk. It tastes different. I do not approve.

I'm sure there will soon be many more things to add to this list! I will keep you posted.

Until then, à bientôt!

Let's just hope the weather improves!

An Amster-dam good time

Title credit goes to Chase, unashamedly pinched by me, since I am obviously unable to resist a good pun.

So, in true year abroad fashion, and because I am currently in the grips of oh-wow-I-only-have-a-month-left-let's-make-the-most-of-it syndrome, this past weekend involved an impromptu (for me anyway!) trip to Amsterdam, courtesy of the ever-efficient-and-reliable Deutsche Bahn. On Thursday night I (along with a sizeable group of other language assistants) threw caution to the wind and hopped on an evening train to the Venice of the North, fully equipped with appropriate supplies of the snack and beverage variety and enough classic British (and American) banter to see our train carriage gradually emptying throughout the journey. Stereotype fulfilled! (Oops)

When we arrived, I was pleasantly surprised by the hostel (Flying Pig Uptown Hostel, in case anyone's curious), which boasted what felt like several thousand flights of stairs, and its own cat (among other things of course!).

Hostel's cat was unimpressed by our hilarious prank.

Good advice in the hostel's stairwell.
I think this was about 4 flights up

On Friday, our first full day, we wandered around for what seemed like eternity trying to find breakfast, before settling less-than-reluctantly for the Hardrock Cafe (no regrets). It was good. In the afternoon we went to a torture museum, which was pretty much just a display of torture equipment and explanations (and artistic interpretations) of their usage, all accompanied by bizarrely soothing music. Gruesome. That afternoon was just filled with general wanderings, visits to touristy souvenir shops (naturally), a brief perusal of an impressive cheese shop, and, to top it all off, a visit to Wagamama's (Yeah, Amsterdam has Wagamama's! Take that Germany!). As you can see, we fully embraced the culture of... er... Japan.

Some clogs in a touristy shop. I think these were about my size.

Saturday was a day filled with culture and that associated smugness which comes with having spent the day looking at art, history and architecture and actually enjoying it. First off was the Van Gogh museum, which, while bringing back happy reminiscences of a certain Doctor Who episode, was also really interesting and insightful. I absolutely loved looking at all the paintings and learning the story behind them, seeing how his style developed, and (of course) buying copious amounts of postcards of the paintings from the museum gift shop. (I have a postcard-buying addiction. It's a serious problem. But hey, these postcards were really nice!)

Just a small selection...

After a second round in Wagamama (don't judge us), we embarked on a boat tour of Amsterdam's canals, which took us the scenic route through the city, giving us beautiful views of the city's unique houses. The boat trip even came with a recorded accompaniment in the form of a cringey 'couple' (definitely actors) telling us all about the local history and architecture, as well as certain random details of their lives. Bonus!

Pretty view of some houses

I took about a hundred identical pictures to this... Seriously, this place is so beautiful!

Our day of culturedness was topped off with a visit to the Anne Frank house, a tour of which we had thankfully booked beforehand (the queues were massive!). Though I'd read the diary of Anne Frank years ago, the story had never really struck me quite as much as when I could see all the rooms they lived in, hear details of what happened to them in the camps, and read extracts of the diary in context. The museum is so beautifully done, letting the rooms in the house where they all lived and the diary extracts speak for themselves. It's so moving and I highly recommend a visit.

That evening we mostly just wandered around getting soaked in the rain, trying to find a supermarket, missing our tram stop twice (that's a skill right there), seeing the red light district (it's not a nice place), and playing the Rennie/country game (don't ask) into the small hours with hilarious results.

On Sunday, after a bit of shopping, wandering around sighing about how we all love Amsterdam and want to move there, and a visit to the best hot chocolate shop in the world (it's official), a very tired bunch of language assistants got back on a train bound for Minden (city of dreams), and were greeted by SNOW(!!) when we got back to good old Deutschland. The icing on the cake of a fantastic long-weekend!

Bis zum nächsten Mal, liebe Kumpels!

Herbstferien Part 1 - When The Farmers came to town

Update: This blog post now has pictures! That's right, real photographs that I took with my own two hands. My camera memory card has now made its way safely back from Venice where it had decided to stay a little longer and enjoy a nice holiday :)

So, you may have noticed that this blog has been unusually quiet the last few days (make that weeks... sorry!). The reasons for this are as follows:

1. Not a lot of stuff happened
2. A lot of stuff happened

The week before the Herbstferien (This is the 2-week school holiday most German states have in October. Don't mind if I do!) was extremely normal, so I won't bore you with that. Instead, I will begin this post two weeks ago with a very exciting event (drum-roll please): The Farmers came to Lemgo! (No, it isn't some bizarre German farmer festival, though I wouldn't put it past them... The Farmers are my awesome family!)

After a brief stint lost in Lage (apparently there's no way to drive through it and a very helpful lack of signposts), the Farmers finished their impressive (nearly) two-day's drive from Winchester to Lemgo. Their arrival was celebrated by much hugging and tea-drinking and general excitement, followed by a thrilling trip to the supermarket, where I was able to show off the wonders of German pizza-hybrids (pizza-burger or pizza-pasta anyone?).

The next day, our proper tour of Lemgo began, with an exciting trip to the Junkerhaus. This is just the house of an *ahem* eccentric outsider artist in Lemgo called Karl Junker, who decided to build himself a slightly creepy but extremely beautiful house/work of art out of ornately carved wood. It really was quite amazing - I don't think the photos quite did it justice.

Junkerhaus! My camera memory card finally made it home to me :)

Fun as it was to look around, I can't imagine it would be much fun to actually live there. There were far too many bizarrely staring paintings and hideously uncomfortable-looking chairs for my liking.

For lunch, we headed into town, where there was a market on with loads of stalls selling toasted mandeln (almonds), bratwurst, and all sorts of other German goodies. We sampled some of said bratwurst, before deciding to try the regional speciality pickert, which is a tasty but extremely filling type of potato scone. We had ours with plum jam, but they were also serving it with leberwurst (liver sausage). Some people even had theirs with half and half (though I'm not sure I would try that myself).

That afternoon came the event that one must experience/endure in order to gain a true induction into German way of life: one's first handball game. Following our small misunderstanding, in which I had to ensure the Farmers that they would not actually be required to play handball, I'm sure the others were relieved to just sit on the sidelines and observe the German craziness from afar. Though I'm not what anyone would call a sporty person, and my understanding of football really only extends to kicking a ball in a net (what, there's more to it than that?), I actually found handball really enjoyable. It's kind of like football and basketball's hyperactive love child, with lots of supporters playing drums. Only a few minutes in, we worked out what colour team we were supporting, and were able to make appreciative/derogatory noises at appropriate moments. We lost (as an official resident of Lemgo, I feel it's acceptable to refer to the Lemgo team as 'we', and I'm sure they found my support indispensable), but the opposing team was Berlin, so I don't think we really did that badly.

They throw a ball with their hands (I think).

In the evening we were invited to the home of one of the teachers from my school, and my sister, Esther, was able to chat to a fellow bird-watching enthusiast, while I got my first experience of hearing a German say 'squirrel' first-hand. (Search on youtube for 'Germans saying squirrel' and you won't be disappointed. I feel it's acceptable for me to laugh, because I'm sure my attempts to say Eichhörnchen are just as amusing to them!)

Highlights of the rest of the all-too-short visit included going to see the Hermann statue, or Hermannsdenkmal, (Hermann the German was supposed to have led the Germanic tribes to victory against three Roman legions, but the giant statue of him was actually built much later, apparently as a sort of two-fingered salute to the French!), walking in the woods, having a lovely lunch in nearby Detmold, more walking in the woods, looking round the Brake castle, and some more walking in the woods.

Hermann the German in all his glory

All in all, a really lovely visit! I'm only sorry it was so short.

I guess Germany's pretty OK :)

Not quite my usual post format, but I had fun making these lists, so I hope you enjoy them. :)

So, I've been in Lemgo about a month now (how time flies!), which means I can look back on my first impressions of Germany with a fresh perspective (although I'm sure this will continue to change as my time here goes on). Though I have to admit I'm still very much a home bird, there are many things that I'm distinctly warming to in this strange land; I'm almost being won over to the German way of life. There might even be a couple of ways in which the Germans even manage to one-up us Brits. (Who would've thought!?) Perhaps these Germans aren't so crazy after all.

Here are just a few things that, in my eyes, Germany does better.

• Giant square pillows... it's true! I've been converted! They're still weird though.
• Cycling - Everybody does it, even old ladies! And I absolutely love it! Much quicker than walking, but still provides that inner smugness that comes with doing exercise. Win win!
• Beer (We should definitely bring Altbierbowle to the UK! And who had the brilliant idea of mixing beer with lemonade??? Whoever it was, I take my hat off to you)
• Table service in pubs - Such a good idea. Though I'll definitely have lost my ability to elbow my way to the bar in Wetherspoons.
• Haribo - Germans do haribo in a big way. Not just gummy bears, but gummy everything. My taste buds are loving it! My teeth? Not so much.

Yes, I did buy Christmas Haribo in October. Don't judge me.

• Opportunities for sausage puns - I think we all know how I feel about those... (They're the wurst)
• Language - Germans have so many useful terms that we don't have single words for in English! I've read about words such as Drachenfutter (a gift to make it up to someone, especially a spouse, who you've done something to annoy) and Treppenwitz (literally 'staircase joke', a joke or comeback that you think of once the moment has passed). Since coming here, I've also come across fremdschämen (to be embarrassed on behalf of someone else), Suppenkoma (or 'soup coma', the tired feeling you get after a big meal), and Liebhaberstück (something an individual especially likes to collect). See, English seems ridiculously wordy by comparison!

However, much as I love the Vaterland, there are some things that we Brits just do better!

• Tea - sorry Deutschland! I know you try.
• Tap water. There is nothing wrong with it, despite what the judging looks from waiters would have you believe.
• Films - seriously, it seems like every German film is actually a British or American one (well, mostly American if I'm honest) dubbed into German. And it isn't half confusing trying to lip-read while you listen.
• Jokes. (To be fair, humour is one thing that just doesn't translate. When I've grown to fully understand the deutsche Humor I'll know I've become a fully fledged German!)

Edit: I just read the best German word! It's verschlimmbessern, which is the verb used to describe the act of making something worse, while actively trying to make it better. Such a great one!