the captain's great event

With war seemingly on the verge of erupting in more than one corner of the world, as subtle as Mount St. Helens spewing plumes of ash, it feels frivolous of me to give tips on planning a great party. All I can say is that while preparing for this past weekend’s festivities I was listening almost constantly to CNN International; ever more grateful for our peaceful patch of property by this river and so looking forward to celebrating life and love with some dear friends.

Photo credit: Maximilian Groß

I do love planning a party. I have been doing it all my life, something that I got from my mother. She always had loads of people over to the house, effortlessly entertaining friends with much food cooked and many a wine drunk.

What I definitely get from my father though, is the fine art of list-making – so here is a list to help you with your next féte:

Invitation-sending: When I look at this cute boy it still makes me giddy. An invitation that will put a smile on someone’s face will excite them for your event. If you want to make sure that people can attend your party make sure you send invitations early (if you don’t really want them to come, send the invites two days before). I highly recommend sending a real card as opposed to an e-card (who doesn’t still love mail?) and when we received an RSVP in the form of a postcard from a couple who lives just up the hill, I was equally thrilled!

Taste-testing recipes: Why not spend the weeks leading up to your party making yourself and your schatzi some great food – all in the name of research. It also eases your stress level greatly on the day of, knowing how to actually make the recipe.

List-making: Enough said. Make lists and then some more lists; brainstorm and firmly cement the details in your head. Trust me, on party day you will barely have time to look at a list. But having them will prevent a nervous breakdown in the days leading up to your house being invaded by 60 hungry, thirsty revellers on a day which could bring storms or heat or locusts. Plan for everything. With a list.

Appliance, house and garden-cleaning: Like moving to a new house, having a big party is the perfect opportunity to fix odds and ends (we have more odds than ends) and to clean things we (I) normally wouldn’t clean (the outside party fridge). Great guy even built stairs to our front door on Friday – now we actually have stairs!

Tent-christening: As I mentioned before, weather is as unpredictable as cancer.  Plan for bad weather and then in most cases it will be sunny, blue-skies and not a hint of rain or wind. Two nights before the party, we borrowed a long, white tent and with Hansi, Simone, Max and the Romanian we set it up and spent the rest of the evening in it. The only downpour came while we were taking it down the day after – see, planning worked.

Deko-rating: A faint whiff of a theme is fun…will it be elegant BBQ with haybales and Hugos or Gatsby-esque with champagne served in glasses bigger than finger bowls; more flapper less flannel? Our theme was rustic (we have no choice) with a hint of the nautical. I strategically threw big boat ropes and life preservers around, and Bärbel placed a huge orange buoy, with much thought, laying it right on the ground beside her. Great guy thought it was strange that I kept asking him to tie more knots, but he went with the flow – how could he not, he loves boats (and safety, for that matter).

Now for the food and drink tips (the best part and sometimes the only reason to go to a party):

Sun tea-steeping: a super easy, non-alcoholic necessity for the drivers and the pregnant. Mix tea bags, some sugar, lemons, limes and mint plucked from your garden (if you have it growing like a wild crazy weed) into a large, large glass jar. Stir and let it steep in the sun outside all day. Try to move it around with the sunshine. Later, cool with ice cubes. Done.

Local vintner-supporting: We picked up Rieslings and Weißburgunder (pinot blanc) from two favourite weinguts – Kauer and Hemmes. Drink stations were set up on different tables for ease and avoided clustering and clamouring for a drink. Sun-tea and pop, wine and sekt, beer and more beer, espresso machine and whisky – and water was, of course, everywhere.

Ciabatta loaves-warming…with bread on every wooden surface coupled with spündekäs dips or artichoke and goat-cheese antipasto people are instantly happy (just don’t forget a knife otherwise they stand there like lost puppies having no idea what to do - seriously). Along with platters of cheese and grapes, crudités and more bread, pretzels and sesame sticks, your revellers will be satisfied and full.

Tart-baking: More savory less sweet – arugula and brie, zucchini and tomato, yum and yum. Tarts are so easy to make ahead and so excellent to eat. I made five and there was one piece left at the end of the night (which I ate).

Pulled-pork slow-cooking: This strange, new food was a hit with the Germans after I showed them how to eat it on a bun. I love having a slow cooker again. Alongside the pulled-pork, we brated lots of bratwurst during the course of the evening - at one point turning the bbq-ing duties over to my new brother-from-another-mother, Roland. There was definitely enough fleisch in the haus!

One-loving: We thought that rockn’roller would be trilling some of his jazzy tunes wearing his too-short leather pants and converse, but he was a no-show – off to see his new baby mama. So we made do with great guy’s beloved garden disco; Linton Kwesi Johnson, Trance Groove and the Doors to name some of his happy music. He had a great evening strolling the lawns among new friends and some longer-in-the-tooth, childhood buddies, while wearing his captain's hat and calling everyone 'old sport' (kidding - I'm reading 'A Curious Invitation-the forty greatest parties in literature' and am on Gatsby. My next party will be Alice's just in time for my birthday - glorious fun). Just like bread, music makes people happy. If only all the peoples of the world would sway together more…in one love.

Remember:

At the end of the day, or the begin of the party, the most important thing to do whether you’ve finished all of the prepping or not, is to stop working and to start enjoying the people who have come to be with you.

This is great advice, which I tried to adhere to. Unfortunately I was a bit behind my own schedule – not helped by the arrival of uninvited party guests three hours early!! This is an unforeseen challenge that one just has to make the best of - smile and serve them coffee. No list will help.

As this was a big birthday, invited friends started to arrive on the nose instead of fashionably late. While I did manage to comb my hair, put eyeliner on and slide into a dress, I forgot that I was just wearing flip flops and had only removed nail polish from one of my hands. The plus side is that nobody looks at your hands or your feet if you keep moving, hopping from group to group, like a bride at her wedding. Food, in this case, is also a great distraction from the small details that you’ve forgotten…just keep putting food in front of people and they’ll barely even look you in the eye!

There are no pics of the happy birthday boy because he does not take a happy photo well.

Hours later, as we sat by the river in the calm, quiet late night/early morning hours – great guy’s reggae put to bed and the hard core friends not yet ready for it – I felt the blessings of peace, the glow of contented friends, and the familiar melancholy of missing those far away. The auburn lights of the cathedral softly anointed us, with the only noise being a goose or a duck. If only everyone could feel the safety and love and abundance that we enjoyed this weekend. Happy birthday great guy (I refuse to call you captain).

lights, camera...and a rock'n roller

‘Let men and women make good sentences. Let them learn to spell the sound of the waterfall and the noise of the bathwater. Let us get down the colors of the baseball gloves, the difference in shade between the centerfielder’s deep pocket and the discreet indentation of the catcher’s mitt…Let us enlist the Vocabulary, the Syntax, the high grammar of the mysterious world.’ – Stanley Elkin

(A quote from the textbook I’m using in my latest writing class. Motivating.)

Over the past two weeks, ms. potter and I have been consumed with creating a plan and a script for a video we spent the last two days shooting. Not much time = much stress.

Peter rabbit came on board with his curly locks and his camera skill. And all of the other ‘stars’ who we enlisted did so without hesitation…well, except for great guy.

He is no willing actor. He would much rather design and build an entire house in a day than have to stand in front of a video camera, or any camera for that matter. But, I promised that all he’d have to do is stand beside me holding a very heavy spotlight and shine it on me…how hard can that be?

I had also asked the father if he would mind helping out. I mentioned that the video would be uploaded to youtube; that his bit would be about online learning through skype; and that he would just need to smile into the little camera on the computer monitor. He had no idea what I was actually talking about, but he said yes.

Fortunately for us, he had been involved in some late-night-drinking embarrassments at our place two nights previously, and was feeling very sheepish about it all. I probably could’ve asked him to fund the entire video production; he was in a ‘yes’ state of mind.

So, great guy and the father showed up at the shoot together…their late-night bonding session having not worn off…and they were both total pros. This family, I must say, is very photogenic. We kept saying, ‘wow, you look so great on film’…and they would each say at their respective times, ‘Ja, ja.’ Humble not, but great-looking yes. We were just missing the sister or the model trio would’ve been complete.

Cut to rock’n roller. He showed up exactly on time (we made his call noon, thinking that would be early enough) and he had literally just rolled out of bed. He’s been having a tough time of late and so was looking quite rough around the edges…but at least he showed up, in jazzy pin-stripes, with a kerchief tied around his neck, and his beauty of a stand-up bass in tow. This particular instrument is its own character in any performance mr. roller gives.

Rock’n roller’s bit involved, of course, some jazzy-tune playing. It was groovy fun, with a hint of crazy. I rocked out a little bit beside him, while the gargoyle atop his bass hopped and wiggled along to the beat. Rock’n roller did his thing, not taking too many cues from peter, so the whole thing was a luscious mix of adlib and the spontaneous. That’s the genius behind artists who roll out of bed and create.

The shoot wouldn’t have been complete without an appearance by my newest fascinator out of Paris. She/it played the part of a Queen-like head-topper, and did it well if I do say so myself.

In a month or so, after peter has worked his magic, all of his table-top camera-angling and film slicing and dicing will be in full view for all of you to see…unless my part is so embarrassing I don’t tell you about its release. Very good possibility.

rock'n roller and the geologist

For the first time, I am sitting outside, at the big wooden table, under the trees, beside the river and writing.  This may seem shocking to those of you who have actually been here and have experienced the place I am trying pathetically to describe, because it is a dreamy, perfect place.  Why am I here only now doing this?

I feel finally alone.  Everyone has left the building for the evening.  Great guy is out resurrecting his fitness program (and I am proud of him), the haus folks are…who knows where, and right now I don’t really care.  I just want calm and quiet and a little alone time. 

A turtle dove is softly hooting (is that a hooting sound?) in the tree above me and the air still faintly holds the wood-burned smell of last night’s grilling and bonfire.  The small, weird-looking cat, who I’ve given up on winning over, wanders by with a big-ass mouse in her mouth (how the heck?  Yesterday, she was trying to catch a duck…maybe she will yet).  And, of course, the crazy, chirping birds are still here, as always, keeping me company…and that’s good.

The Canadians have been here.  And, can I just say, I love me some Canadians.  Not because they are any different from Germans or anyone else, but just because they know me…and I know them.  Do you get what I’m putting down (to quote, amongst others, my brother)?  It is a wonderfully familiar, comforting feeling to be with friends who know you; the friends who you have fun history with…good stories and adventures to recall, but also those friends who have seen you cry and fall apart and who have helped you when you have really needed help. 

I mean, I am absolutely certain, that the friends I am making here, great guy’s circle of friends, would totally help me out if I called them, because they are really nice and warm and lovely people, and I am a girlfriend of a man who is a good friend to them (I think).  But, this is a different feeling.  And , I know that just as I developed strong, lasting friendships with people in Calgary and Saskatchewan, this too will surely, hopefully happen here in Germany.  But for now, I am just so thankful for a few nights of my friends.  I was goofy and stupid (dancing no, jumping, around to George Michael, impersonating my bro’s awesome dance moves), I talked and talked and talked and talked (sorry Gail, but THANK YOU!), we irritated a very patient, Birkenstocks sales man, and just hung out.  And, I felt like my brother and my other very close friends were here a little bit, or at least closer, and then I cried when they all left.  But, a good cry.

So, here’s a rock’n roller story to go with that:  Once upon a time…no, I’m kidding.  A couple of weeks ago, as one group of Canadians came through and stayed with us…a great old friend (although he’s quite a bit younger than me, less noticeable now than once upon a time), his fiancée and his son…we came upon rock’n roller in the back garden as I was touring them around.

Rock’n roller was sitting at the garden table with his glass of red wine (box of red wine standing close by…I thought you could only buy those at Target, but no, they are also available here and quite price-worthy as you might imagine).  I was in the process of showing the Canadians the dilapidated, stone stable, which is still standing at the back of great guy’s property and is so cool.  We stopped and said hi and I introduced my friends to my newer friend.  We did a little bit of small-talk, chit-chatting, when it hit me.  Hey, he loves rocks (cause he’s a meister kletterer, aka master climber, as I may have mentioned) and Canadian-fiancee is a geologist!  A match made in heaven!  So, I said…almost exactly that. 

At that same instance, as I noticed rock’n roller’s expression faintly change, I remembered something great guy had recently said.  Unfortunately, it was already too late (my problem has always been that I am either way too early or way too late).  Rock’n roller is currently in a ‘I hate geologists faze’.  Ooopsy.

You see, climbing is rock’n roller’s great passion, along with music…well, it’s also his livelihood.  Recently his beloved cliffs, where he has climbed for a lot of his life, were closed.  Climbing at this place, where he says many great climbers learned to climb, was his joy, his stress-relief, and now he is stuck at home, sitting here.  It was, he thinks, geologists who said it has to be closed.  He told great guy that he hates geologists because they sit 100’s of metres away (‘they don’t love rocks, like I love rocks’), using binoculars, to determine if rocks or safe or not.  They have no clue. 

Well, he said something to that affect (I might be paraphrasing) to the geologist standing next to me, who I actually know has often been very close to rocks in her lifetime,  and I think likes them a lot. I saw her back stiffen and straighten a bit, and her voice got a teensy bit punchier (is that a word?).  Now, it all turned out to be perfectly cordial and polite…most of the people in the group were Canadians afterall…but the rock lovefest which I had briefly imagined failed to materialize.  Such a shame.  Okay, I guess that was my fault, since I quickly moved the group on to the stables.  Yeah, stables!

Having the Canadians visit made me see great guy in a little bit of a greater light (oh, is that possible?).  He was generous and giving, he took time and energy, drove to the airport at 7 am to pick up one said Canadian because I had to work (and it was his idea!).  He toured them around, made lunches, all in his relaxed, no-big-deal way and I love that.  We watched insane numbers of Harley bikers, we cheered Germany on to a soccer win along with seemingly 1000 others in a biergarten, we hung out at a winefest and numerous times at our fave spot on the Rhein, and countless great hours here at home, just hanging…with our Canadians.  It was relaxed and fun and familiar…as if it happens all the time.  I sincerely hope it does!

trés bonn(e)!

The wait is over. It finally snowed! I woke to a powder-sugared, wonderland of white, and it made me happy. The banks of the, now swollen, river were all white. The cathedral and burg, all lovely and white, were covered with heavy white snow. And, as I drove to Mickey’s weinhaus to pack up wine to send to some very late customers, I laughed at my grumpy co-workers who weren’t at all happy about the snow. But, unfortunately, by the afternoon it was basically gone, with only slushy remnants left behind.

On Saturday evening, great guy and I zipped off (after he put in another long, long day at our baustelle) to Bonn. I really wanted to experience a bustling, new-to-me city on the Rhein, packed full of history…and Christmas revelers. Bonn used to be the German capital city, before the wall came down in 1989, giving the capital city reigns to Berlin. The architecture of Bonn’s buildings in the altstadt is beautiful, and along with a flowing design of the pedestrian zone along the river, it has a comforting feel about it.

‘Magical’ is surely defined by the Oxford Dictionary as ‘wandering the evening streets admidst a German Weihnachtsmarkt (Christmas market)’. I had heard that Bonn had an amazing markt, and it did not disappoint! In three different squares of the altstadt huge, 10 meter tall, wooden Christmas pyramids were turning, displaying shepherds with their sheep, mary and joseph heading to Bethlehem, angels trumpeting in star-filled skies. The markt stands were full of happy, glühwein drinkers and tourists purchasing Christmas ornaments and last-minute gifts. We walked arm-in-arm, soaking in the amber glow of the street lanterns, sipping at terracotta mugs filled with steaming wine while snacking on baked, sugary almonds. Yum yum.

Our weekend was book-ended by two wonderful parties, one at max and bärbel’s on Friday evening (I think max turned 29 again) and the other on Sunday night at jülchen and rock ‘n roller’s (jülchen actually turned 29, or is she only 28…oh man, I feel old). Both fests were filled with terrific, new-to-me, very nice people; such as kerstin#43 (everyone here is named ‘kerstin’…it’s like the American ‘linda’, only much prettier sounding) and dave, the half-breed (his dad is American, and as jülchen introduced us, she said ‘dave, say hi to nina, she’s from Canada!’-he said hi-it was magical).

The best thing about both evenings, other than being in the homes of wonderful friends, was that great guy and I just laughed. Especially Sunday night. It is a great thing when someone just wants to see you laughing, and whether it’s because of snow falling or great guy’s silliness, it feels so good to laugh. I hope that wherever you are today you will share a laugh or two with someone you love…or don’t. Just laugh.

rock'n roller is from china

Rock’n roller came by last night. He knocked on the door, let himself in, asked if we had a schluck wein for him, sat down and lit a cigarette. Great guy and I sat there and just looked at him. Then, he casually mentioned that the women are sitting over in the haus, in pitch blackness. What? There’s no electricity. Don’t know why, but don’t worry, we’ll deal with it later….let me tell you about my day. Great guy clarified, ‘Are julchen and angie at home?’ ‘Ja, they’re sitting in the dark. But, you don’t have to go over there right now. Let’s have a cigarette first and relax. They’re fine over there.’ Oh my.

Last weekend, at our fest, with 25 people cozily packed into our little stellwerk haus, rock’n roller and I got into politics. I should know by now that talking with him, beyond a certain point in the evening has no real productive outcome, but I kind of miss chatting about the world’s craziness. At the point in the “conversation” where rock’n roller said to me, in all seriousness, that he is not a German right now, that I should not consider him German, I knew that I might burst out laughing at any moment (at least I wasn’t going to cry this time!). Of course, I interrupted his rant and asked him, ‘where are you from right now?’ And he said, I’m not kidding, right now I’m from China. Of course. Then, thankfully, before I had to listen to him spew about the current situation there (because of course he knows all about what it’s like to be a Chinese person in this current global climate), I excused myself to concentrate on our other guests.

Amidst the lunacy of the week, great guy and I managed to head out for a dinner celebrating the actual day I arrived here a year ago. We followed dinner in the Goldener Engel (which sounds way less cheesy in German than in English – Gold Angel) by a romantic, yet freezing, stroll beneath the lit-up burg (castle) of the Ingelheim Weihnachtsmarkt (Christmas market). With glühwein in hand to warm us, the smell of gebrante Mandeln (roasted almonds) wafting in the air, we walked among the stands set-up within the castle walls. It was very cool, cool. I asked great guy where he thinks we might be in a year from now, and in his not-so-romantic way, he said, ‘maybe we’ll be right here’. I guess that wouldn’t be too bad.