I went to the Henry Ford Museum today to see their Star Trek exhibit before it closes on Sunday. Yeah, part of my habit of seeing things just before they close. After paying the admission fee (Star Trek included) I explored some of the other exhibits, such as the development of machines to make stuff during the 19th Century and the automobile timeline. It’s a cool museum even without the Star Trek exhibit.
The Star Trek exhibit included costumes, props (such as the tricorder), some of the set components (such as captain’s chairs), and models of various spaceships used during filming. There was also a timeline of when the stories of each of the various series (TV and film) took place.
Included were videos of various actors and writers talking about how revolutionary the series were, especially when it began back in 1966. The original series was set in the future to give Gene Roddenberry a way to talk about big issues, such as racism. The cast was intentionally multi-racial – white, black, Asian, and Russian (this was the Cold War) characters working together in harmony. Each series also had a character that wasn’t quite human – Spock, Data, Odo, Whorf, and the holographic Doctor, among others.
One of he videos talked about actual technology trying to catch up to the tech of the shows. We now have computer tablets. The first pocket size portable phones were a “clamshell” design to imitate the communicator of Star Trek. Google is trying to create the all-knowing Computer of the show. The medical community has early versions of the tricorder.
Astronaut Mae Jemison became the first African-American woman in space. She credited Star Trek and Lieutenant Uhura as inspirations.
Several episodes take place in a mirror universe where all the familiar characters have an evil double. This allowed the show’s writers to play with how technology can be used for both good and evil.
I’ve talked about a society without supremacy, without a social hierarchy. I saw such a society in what Roddenberry portrayed on the screen. With the popularity of the franchise there are a lot of people who appreciate seeing a society without ranking and believe it can be done and are working toward it.
Friday, August 30, 2019
Thursday, August 29, 2019
Overwhelmed by the nastiness
Over the last few years I’ve quoted frequently from Melissa McEwan of Shakesville. Her blog has been a primary source of my news for much of that time. I probably quoted McEwan more than any other writer.
In mid July McEwan declared a sabbatical, lasting through August. I thought that would fit well with my own plans because I would be gone for much of August and wouldn’t miss much of her wisdom.
In mid August McEwan posted she will no longer write the Shakesville blog. The reason: researching and reporting the nasty guy and GOP cruelty became too much. She grieved over the pain they caused and the constant anguish was appearing as physical health issues.
Another big factor was Twitter. McEwan put links of her posts into tweets, and that attracted a great deal of supremacist pushback. Though she was quite good at defending herself the constant online abuse took its toll.
I quoted McEwan so frequently because I could see she was right and she could explain her points very well. She pegged the nasty guy as an authoritarian the day he came down the escalator to announce his candidacy for president. Several months later she went through his speech point by point to say what was authoritarian about each one.
The first few times I followed links to Shakesville I read well written articles which resonated with me. But I saw most of the other content on the site was geared towards feminism. I wasn’t much interested in women’s issues.
But after a few more looks and probably after the demise of another blog I depended on for news, I became a regular reader of Shakesville. I realized that women’s issues, in the way McEwan explained them, were also LGBT issues, minority issues, and even men’s issues. She was writing about the ways of supremacy, calling it out and explaining it. She frequently talked about rape culture – the ideas in our culture that project misogyny, imply that rape is OK, and then protect the rapists.
Over the last couple years she has put up a post every weekday documenting the latest trash committed by the nasty guy, his minions, and the GOP. This was an act of resistance. She frequently wrote, because the story highlighted it, that with this administration malice is the agenda. Starting last January she also posted every weekday a summary of news about the Democrats running for the presidency. She praised the good things they said and called out the supremacist things. It is through her evaluation of the candidates that I created my list of favorites, currently Warren, Harris, Booker, and Castro, none of whom are white men. I’m pleased to see all four are still in the running.
I’ve had a pretty good understanding of the various aspects of supremacy for a while now. Even so, McEwan taught me a lot. She could say see this here, that’s misogyny. And over here, that’s racism. And that over there, is fat hatred. And this little bit is why intersectionality has to be considered.
McEwan also had her lighter moments. She posted pictures of her pets every workday, saying after reading about the day’s malice we needed something cute. She asked about us – what have we been reading? What craft things have we done? What are some of our recent joys? How have wee been feeling? Is there a personal situation we’d like to ask her community in hopes of getting a fresh perspective? There was usually a question of the day, something offbeat to allow us to share experiences and see how others think. She built a community and nourished us.
She ran her comments as a safe space. Those who belittled others were warned and then banned. We could be free to express how we felt about something without someone dumping on us (I’m sure she wished she could have done the same on Twitter). Even with that I learned something, when it is important to say nothing.
So Liss, I’ll miss your wisdom of how the world works. I’ll miss your understanding of what the nasty guy and his minions are doing. I’m sorry you were overwhelmed by the nastiness of the nasty guy and his followers. I wish a full recovery for you and great happiness in whatever ventures you take up next.
In mid July McEwan declared a sabbatical, lasting through August. I thought that would fit well with my own plans because I would be gone for much of August and wouldn’t miss much of her wisdom.
In mid August McEwan posted she will no longer write the Shakesville blog. The reason: researching and reporting the nasty guy and GOP cruelty became too much. She grieved over the pain they caused and the constant anguish was appearing as physical health issues.
Another big factor was Twitter. McEwan put links of her posts into tweets, and that attracted a great deal of supremacist pushback. Though she was quite good at defending herself the constant online abuse took its toll.
I quoted McEwan so frequently because I could see she was right and she could explain her points very well. She pegged the nasty guy as an authoritarian the day he came down the escalator to announce his candidacy for president. Several months later she went through his speech point by point to say what was authoritarian about each one.
The first few times I followed links to Shakesville I read well written articles which resonated with me. But I saw most of the other content on the site was geared towards feminism. I wasn’t much interested in women’s issues.
But after a few more looks and probably after the demise of another blog I depended on for news, I became a regular reader of Shakesville. I realized that women’s issues, in the way McEwan explained them, were also LGBT issues, minority issues, and even men’s issues. She was writing about the ways of supremacy, calling it out and explaining it. She frequently talked about rape culture – the ideas in our culture that project misogyny, imply that rape is OK, and then protect the rapists.
Over the last couple years she has put up a post every weekday documenting the latest trash committed by the nasty guy, his minions, and the GOP. This was an act of resistance. She frequently wrote, because the story highlighted it, that with this administration malice is the agenda. Starting last January she also posted every weekday a summary of news about the Democrats running for the presidency. She praised the good things they said and called out the supremacist things. It is through her evaluation of the candidates that I created my list of favorites, currently Warren, Harris, Booker, and Castro, none of whom are white men. I’m pleased to see all four are still in the running.
I’ve had a pretty good understanding of the various aspects of supremacy for a while now. Even so, McEwan taught me a lot. She could say see this here, that’s misogyny. And over here, that’s racism. And that over there, is fat hatred. And this little bit is why intersectionality has to be considered.
McEwan also had her lighter moments. She posted pictures of her pets every workday, saying after reading about the day’s malice we needed something cute. She asked about us – what have we been reading? What craft things have we done? What are some of our recent joys? How have wee been feeling? Is there a personal situation we’d like to ask her community in hopes of getting a fresh perspective? There was usually a question of the day, something offbeat to allow us to share experiences and see how others think. She built a community and nourished us.
She ran her comments as a safe space. Those who belittled others were warned and then banned. We could be free to express how we felt about something without someone dumping on us (I’m sure she wished she could have done the same on Twitter). Even with that I learned something, when it is important to say nothing.
So Liss, I’ll miss your wisdom of how the world works. I’ll miss your understanding of what the nasty guy and his minions are doing. I’m sorry you were overwhelmed by the nastiness of the nasty guy and his followers. I wish a full recovery for you and great happiness in whatever ventures you take up next.
Travelogue – The debates
Throughout my travelogue I mentioned the lively debates between Brother, Niece, and myself. Here’s a bit more on those debates.
Niece just turned 30. Brother is almost exactly 18 months older than me and we’re both more than twice Niece’s age. She doesn’t accept things just because someone says them. I admire that, though it can be tough to be on the receiving end of it. As I told her, I’ve done a lot of reading over the last dozen years (at least since I started this blog) and I don’t remember the names of all my sources.
In mid June Brother and his other daughter and family started a tour of Italy and Greece. This other niece wanted to expose her children to the cultural treasures of modern Italy and Greece and ancient Rome and Greek empires. Niece – the one who debated with me – joined them in Athens for a tour of those treasures and the trip back up the length of Italy. During car rides they listened to audio books about history, including of the Roman Empire.
So Niece delighted in hearing references to ancient Rome. She noticed that at least King Arthur (in fictional accounts), Charlemagne, the emperors of the Holy Roman Empire, Napoleon, and Hitler claimed to be successors of Rome and tried (and in some cases succeeded for a while) to recreate the power of Rome.
Niece got our debates going by saying we should not dismiss conservatives as stupid and lazy. It took some discussion to refine her point to saying we should not dismiss conservative voters as stupid and lazy. She pointed out that various progressive discussion sites have lots of commenters who do exactly that. This isn’t helpful, she says. They have values and we progressives need to understand those values. We need to talk with conservatives to find where our values align.
Conservative lawmakers were a topic of other discussions. They certainly haven’t been lazy, doing a great deal to enforce supremacy.
For example, Niece said, rural conservatives believe we can and should take care of ourselves. They have been doing that for generations. Government shouldn’t take care of us.
I told Niece there are parts of her thinking I agree with. We should not belittle conservative voters. I try to refrain from doing so in this blog. I know I’m not entirely successful in that and a few of my regular readers have reminded me when I haven’t. We should indeed talk to conservative voters. We should understand, not just sneer at, their values.
Brother, at a moment when Niece was somewhere else, said talking to our conservative neighbors isn’t going to work. They’re too bound up in their beliefs and prejudices. They believe in alternate facts. They have their own sources of news.
I argued this is the only thing that can work. We just haven’t tried it. Only in the 2018 election did Democrats run a candidate in every (or nearly) Congressional seat. In many deep red states the party simply didn’t bother. In many conservative areas Democrats don’t make any headway because they don’t know how to speak to the rural way of life.
Then Brother reminded me we have a very conservative sister-in-law. We don’t even talk to her about politics. We’ve learned from experience she won’t listen. So we don’t try. But if we don’t talk to her, someone with whom we already have a relationship, how are we going to talk to anyone else?
Hey, Niece. Great ideas you have there. Go talk to your aunt and let us know how it works out.
Brother suggested we vote them out of office. I said, good idea … but he needs to factor in the voter suppression, gerrymandering, Russian interference, and the refusal of Moscow Mitch (the term Brother consistently used for Senate Majority Leader McConnell) to pass any sort of election protection laws. And, since I came home, the resignation of a member of the Federal Elections Commission, rendering that body incapable of anything.
So what do we do?
I don’t feel bad that we didn’t come up with a solution. People who study authoritarian regimes have only one idea – get your resistance in gear and get to it. Alas, even that probably won’t slow down a regime determined to be authoritarian.
Niece proved to be a sharp debater. She was good at pointing out contradictions in an argument. For example: Early in our travels I talked about supremacy and it sure would be nice to build a society without it. Late in our travels, close to three weeks later, we talked about a benevolent dictator as perhaps the most effective government. I then expressed doubt about whether a dictator, someone who got the position through enforcing supremacy, could truly be benevolent with the best interests of the citizens in mind (see our discussions of Napoleon). Niece replied that a benevolent dictator doesn’t sound any less possible than a society without any form of supremacy. Good point.
I enjoyed these debates. I appreciate that Niece challenged my positions and did so without condemning them or me. I hope she feels that my challenges of her ideas held the same respect.
Once idea of hers I challenged was whether there is a god who is sometimes wrathful. This was a realization that came to me as I spoke. In my current understanding of supremacy, a wrathful god is one who uses violence to get what he wants. Using violence is a supremacist act. Supremacist acts cannot encompass love. A god can either be wrathful or loving, but not both. Besides, a god is already supreme and doesn’t need to enforce it.
Niece maintained such wrath is used to correct us towards the attitudes god wants us to have. At the time I used Niece’s sister and her husband and the interactions they have with their children. In my visits I’ve watched them in action. They do correct their children (and the oldest one will push boundaries until he is corrected), but in my presence they were never violent. In the same way a loving god does not have to be violent to correct us.
Niece just turned 30. Brother is almost exactly 18 months older than me and we’re both more than twice Niece’s age. She doesn’t accept things just because someone says them. I admire that, though it can be tough to be on the receiving end of it. As I told her, I’ve done a lot of reading over the last dozen years (at least since I started this blog) and I don’t remember the names of all my sources.
In mid June Brother and his other daughter and family started a tour of Italy and Greece. This other niece wanted to expose her children to the cultural treasures of modern Italy and Greece and ancient Rome and Greek empires. Niece – the one who debated with me – joined them in Athens for a tour of those treasures and the trip back up the length of Italy. During car rides they listened to audio books about history, including of the Roman Empire.
So Niece delighted in hearing references to ancient Rome. She noticed that at least King Arthur (in fictional accounts), Charlemagne, the emperors of the Holy Roman Empire, Napoleon, and Hitler claimed to be successors of Rome and tried (and in some cases succeeded for a while) to recreate the power of Rome.
Niece got our debates going by saying we should not dismiss conservatives as stupid and lazy. It took some discussion to refine her point to saying we should not dismiss conservative voters as stupid and lazy. She pointed out that various progressive discussion sites have lots of commenters who do exactly that. This isn’t helpful, she says. They have values and we progressives need to understand those values. We need to talk with conservatives to find where our values align.
Conservative lawmakers were a topic of other discussions. They certainly haven’t been lazy, doing a great deal to enforce supremacy.
For example, Niece said, rural conservatives believe we can and should take care of ourselves. They have been doing that for generations. Government shouldn’t take care of us.
I told Niece there are parts of her thinking I agree with. We should not belittle conservative voters. I try to refrain from doing so in this blog. I know I’m not entirely successful in that and a few of my regular readers have reminded me when I haven’t. We should indeed talk to conservative voters. We should understand, not just sneer at, their values.
Brother, at a moment when Niece was somewhere else, said talking to our conservative neighbors isn’t going to work. They’re too bound up in their beliefs and prejudices. They believe in alternate facts. They have their own sources of news.
I argued this is the only thing that can work. We just haven’t tried it. Only in the 2018 election did Democrats run a candidate in every (or nearly) Congressional seat. In many deep red states the party simply didn’t bother. In many conservative areas Democrats don’t make any headway because they don’t know how to speak to the rural way of life.
Then Brother reminded me we have a very conservative sister-in-law. We don’t even talk to her about politics. We’ve learned from experience she won’t listen. So we don’t try. But if we don’t talk to her, someone with whom we already have a relationship, how are we going to talk to anyone else?
Hey, Niece. Great ideas you have there. Go talk to your aunt and let us know how it works out.
Brother suggested we vote them out of office. I said, good idea … but he needs to factor in the voter suppression, gerrymandering, Russian interference, and the refusal of Moscow Mitch (the term Brother consistently used for Senate Majority Leader McConnell) to pass any sort of election protection laws. And, since I came home, the resignation of a member of the Federal Elections Commission, rendering that body incapable of anything.
So what do we do?
I don’t feel bad that we didn’t come up with a solution. People who study authoritarian regimes have only one idea – get your resistance in gear and get to it. Alas, even that probably won’t slow down a regime determined to be authoritarian.
Niece proved to be a sharp debater. She was good at pointing out contradictions in an argument. For example: Early in our travels I talked about supremacy and it sure would be nice to build a society without it. Late in our travels, close to three weeks later, we talked about a benevolent dictator as perhaps the most effective government. I then expressed doubt about whether a dictator, someone who got the position through enforcing supremacy, could truly be benevolent with the best interests of the citizens in mind (see our discussions of Napoleon). Niece replied that a benevolent dictator doesn’t sound any less possible than a society without any form of supremacy. Good point.
I enjoyed these debates. I appreciate that Niece challenged my positions and did so without condemning them or me. I hope she feels that my challenges of her ideas held the same respect.
Once idea of hers I challenged was whether there is a god who is sometimes wrathful. This was a realization that came to me as I spoke. In my current understanding of supremacy, a wrathful god is one who uses violence to get what he wants. Using violence is a supremacist act. Supremacist acts cannot encompass love. A god can either be wrathful or loving, but not both. Besides, a god is already supreme and doesn’t need to enforce it.
Niece maintained such wrath is used to correct us towards the attitudes god wants us to have. At the time I used Niece’s sister and her husband and the interactions they have with their children. In my visits I’ve watched them in action. They do correct their children (and the oldest one will push boundaries until he is corrected), but in my presence they were never violent. In the same way a loving god does not have to be violent to correct us.
Tuesday, August 27, 2019
Travelogue – The trip home
Monday, August 26
My alarm went off before 5:30 and Brother and I were out the door around 6:45. My flight wasn’t until 10:10 but I was to be at the airport two hours ahead and the train took an hour.
As I checked in and dropped the bag I was told there were long lines for international security, so don’t dawdle, go there directly. I did detour briefly to the bathroom, then got in line. Brother stayed outside the line until I got through. I saw why the line was slow – there were six stations for passport control and only two of them were active.
Once through that and the security check it was another long hike to the gate. They wanted me there by 9:15. I made it before 9:30. And then waited. For international flights the plane doesn’t pull up to the terminal. One takes a bus to the boarding station. The buses hadn’t started loading when I got there.
We backed away from the boarding station only a few minute late. And we arrived in Detroit 35 minutes early.
For much of the flight over land the weather was clear. I could see when we flew over Nürnberg…
… across the Netherlands, central England and Ireland, across the wilds of Labrador, down the St. Lawrence River, and over Ottawa …
I had hoped to get a good shot of downtown Detroit as we landed. Alas, we were too far away.
I had arranged for two friends to pick me up. They took me to the airport more than three weeks ago and I guided them to the correct terminal of the two. Today, once through customs and baggage claim I went to the curbside to wait. And wait. A couple times I checked the road outside domestic arrivals in case they missed the road to international arrivals. I also found Detroit Metro Airport no longer has pay phones. After almost an hour I gave up and took a taxi home.
Once inside and with my home phone I called my friends. They had gone to the wrong terminal.
Yeah, one solution is to get a simple phone for moments like this. Another is to get friends with a better sense of direction, though those can sometimes be hard to come by.
I took 700 photos during this trip. Between camera (with good zoom) and phone, Brother took 1650 photos. He copied his batch to my camera card. I haven’t looked through them yet.
My alarm went off before 5:30 and Brother and I were out the door around 6:45. My flight wasn’t until 10:10 but I was to be at the airport two hours ahead and the train took an hour.
As I checked in and dropped the bag I was told there were long lines for international security, so don’t dawdle, go there directly. I did detour briefly to the bathroom, then got in line. Brother stayed outside the line until I got through. I saw why the line was slow – there were six stations for passport control and only two of them were active.
Once through that and the security check it was another long hike to the gate. They wanted me there by 9:15. I made it before 9:30. And then waited. For international flights the plane doesn’t pull up to the terminal. One takes a bus to the boarding station. The buses hadn’t started loading when I got there.
We backed away from the boarding station only a few minute late. And we arrived in Detroit 35 minutes early.
For much of the flight over land the weather was clear. I could see when we flew over Nürnberg…
… across the Netherlands, central England and Ireland, across the wilds of Labrador, down the St. Lawrence River, and over Ottawa …
I had hoped to get a good shot of downtown Detroit as we landed. Alas, we were too far away.
I had arranged for two friends to pick me up. They took me to the airport more than three weeks ago and I guided them to the correct terminal of the two. Today, once through customs and baggage claim I went to the curbside to wait. And wait. A couple times I checked the road outside domestic arrivals in case they missed the road to international arrivals. I also found Detroit Metro Airport no longer has pay phones. After almost an hour I gave up and took a taxi home.
Once inside and with my home phone I called my friends. They had gone to the wrong terminal.
Yeah, one solution is to get a simple phone for moments like this. Another is to get friends with a better sense of direction, though those can sometimes be hard to come by.
I took 700 photos during this trip. Between camera (with good zoom) and phone, Brother took 1650 photos. He copied his batch to my camera card. I haven’t looked through them yet.
Travelogue – Rise to power
I’m home. I enjoyed my own bed last night, getting into bed an hour earlier than I normally do and awake at 5, though I had no trouble staying in bed until 7. Then I had a 90 minute nap this afternoon.
Back to the last couple days of the trip:
Sunday, August 25
Brother and I went to the Stadtmuseum, the City Museum of Munich. In the ticket lobby is a model of modern downtown Munich. This bit shows the Our Lady Church, the City Hall, and the ruler’s Residence.
Their biggest exhibit in the museum is Typically Munich, a look at life was like in Munich through the ages. The exhibit was created in 2008 to mark the 850th anniversary of the founding of the city in 1158. It begins with another model of the city, this one showing the city in the 1500s. This photo shows the Our Lady Church and St. Peter’s Church looking from the north.
Also in the mid millennial display is series of Morris dancers. Here’s one of them.
There is also a set of combative cherubs. They were taken from a fountain in front of the City Hall (copies are there now) and represent battling the four evils of the Medieval Age: war, hunger, disease, and … heresy. This one is battling a dragon, but I don’t know what that represents.
The other floors of the exhibit show things from the 1800s, 1900s, and into this century. I didn’t take any more pictures.
Lunch was a bit of an adventure because so many places were closed on Sunday. One place open was the outdoor cafeteria in the nearby VictulienMarkt. I got a sausage and a kraut salad (not sauerkraut, just cabbage). Brother got goulash, which looked pretty good and made me wish I had gotten that. I wonder why the maker of the condiment packets thought it was appropriate to put the mustard in a red package.
Back to the museum, this time to an exhibit of the Nazi party. This is important to have here because the party began in Munich and considered the city to be its home, even after it moved to the seat of power in Berlin. The displays show the start of the party, then its effect in Munich. That included the creation of the nearby Dachau concentration camp, which trained leaders of other camps, including how to efficiently murder. The rise of the party is quite interesting because of its parallels in today’s America. However, when the exhibits started talking about the brutality of the regime once in power I stopped playing the English narration.
The Nazis got its start because Germany had been badly defeated in WWI and had a hard time rebuilding because of excessive reparations paid to other countries for causing the war. The previous system of government, the Kaiser and local Kings and Dukes, had collapsed. Just before the war ended there was a big demonstration in Munich declaring the start of a Bavarian Republic. King Ludwig III decided it was prudent for him to get out of town that night. So there was no central government and no tradition of democracy or parliamentary rule to manage the country.
The Weimar Republic tried, but that government is best known for extremely high levels of inflation.
And here comes a guy with someone to blame it all on. The crowds loved that idea and the conviction and charisma of the guy espousing it.
So what’s America’s excuse? We have a strong economy and a functioning government.
When Hitler was given the role of Chancellor in 1933 the heads of other parties thought they could control him. But Hitler moved quickly to consolidate power. He installed loyalists in key government positions and began outlawing other parties. In just a few months he had control and began persecuting political opponents. And Jews.
Shortly after Dachau was created there was a document about it. All propaganda. Short version: Dachau is a really pleasant place which is much too good for the monsters who are imprisoned there. Yeah, inmates were described in the most vile way possible (the same way the American nasty guy describes Muslims and Mexicans) but not to worry the camp leadership will make sure they never get out.
I went on to another display in the museum, one all about puppets and marionettes. Well into the 20th century various marionette theaters produced shows across Germany. Some of them were traveling troupes. Some of these troupes, sometimes decades after they stopped working, gave their materials to the Stadtmuseum. The property of one traveling troupe had perhaps 20 marionette bodies, a few dozen different heads, and a broad inventory of costumes. They could tell a broad repertoire of stories.
Here’s some of the characters from a more modern troupe made out of the German equivalent of the mid century Erector Set.
After we left the museum Brother and I had some ice cream, then walked around downtown for a while. We had about three hours before our evening event. At about 6:30 I decided what I really wanted for supper was the goulash Brother had for lunch. So we went back to the cafeteria in the VictulienMarkt. Alas, they were at the end of their day and out of goulash. So I had the Leberkäse which, in spite of its name, is neither liver nor cheese. It is a loaf of meat with the consistency of American hot dogs. Servers slice off a chunk and slip it between halves of a roll.
After supper we attended a concert in they nearby Holy Ghost Church (see earlier posts for photos). This concert was two trumpets and organ. It was very nice, though only one piece was written after 1800, so by my tastes it was rather tame.
The concert was an hour. After that we walked back to the apartment and I was soon in bed.
Back to the last couple days of the trip:
Sunday, August 25
Brother and I went to the Stadtmuseum, the City Museum of Munich. In the ticket lobby is a model of modern downtown Munich. This bit shows the Our Lady Church, the City Hall, and the ruler’s Residence.
Their biggest exhibit in the museum is Typically Munich, a look at life was like in Munich through the ages. The exhibit was created in 2008 to mark the 850th anniversary of the founding of the city in 1158. It begins with another model of the city, this one showing the city in the 1500s. This photo shows the Our Lady Church and St. Peter’s Church looking from the north.
Also in the mid millennial display is series of Morris dancers. Here’s one of them.
There is also a set of combative cherubs. They were taken from a fountain in front of the City Hall (copies are there now) and represent battling the four evils of the Medieval Age: war, hunger, disease, and … heresy. This one is battling a dragon, but I don’t know what that represents.
The other floors of the exhibit show things from the 1800s, 1900s, and into this century. I didn’t take any more pictures.
Lunch was a bit of an adventure because so many places were closed on Sunday. One place open was the outdoor cafeteria in the nearby VictulienMarkt. I got a sausage and a kraut salad (not sauerkraut, just cabbage). Brother got goulash, which looked pretty good and made me wish I had gotten that. I wonder why the maker of the condiment packets thought it was appropriate to put the mustard in a red package.
Back to the museum, this time to an exhibit of the Nazi party. This is important to have here because the party began in Munich and considered the city to be its home, even after it moved to the seat of power in Berlin. The displays show the start of the party, then its effect in Munich. That included the creation of the nearby Dachau concentration camp, which trained leaders of other camps, including how to efficiently murder. The rise of the party is quite interesting because of its parallels in today’s America. However, when the exhibits started talking about the brutality of the regime once in power I stopped playing the English narration.
The Nazis got its start because Germany had been badly defeated in WWI and had a hard time rebuilding because of excessive reparations paid to other countries for causing the war. The previous system of government, the Kaiser and local Kings and Dukes, had collapsed. Just before the war ended there was a big demonstration in Munich declaring the start of a Bavarian Republic. King Ludwig III decided it was prudent for him to get out of town that night. So there was no central government and no tradition of democracy or parliamentary rule to manage the country.
The Weimar Republic tried, but that government is best known for extremely high levels of inflation.
And here comes a guy with someone to blame it all on. The crowds loved that idea and the conviction and charisma of the guy espousing it.
So what’s America’s excuse? We have a strong economy and a functioning government.
When Hitler was given the role of Chancellor in 1933 the heads of other parties thought they could control him. But Hitler moved quickly to consolidate power. He installed loyalists in key government positions and began outlawing other parties. In just a few months he had control and began persecuting political opponents. And Jews.
Shortly after Dachau was created there was a document about it. All propaganda. Short version: Dachau is a really pleasant place which is much too good for the monsters who are imprisoned there. Yeah, inmates were described in the most vile way possible (the same way the American nasty guy describes Muslims and Mexicans) but not to worry the camp leadership will make sure they never get out.
I went on to another display in the museum, one all about puppets and marionettes. Well into the 20th century various marionette theaters produced shows across Germany. Some of them were traveling troupes. Some of these troupes, sometimes decades after they stopped working, gave their materials to the Stadtmuseum. The property of one traveling troupe had perhaps 20 marionette bodies, a few dozen different heads, and a broad inventory of costumes. They could tell a broad repertoire of stories.
Here’s some of the characters from a more modern troupe made out of the German equivalent of the mid century Erector Set.
After we left the museum Brother and I had some ice cream, then walked around downtown for a while. We had about three hours before our evening event. At about 6:30 I decided what I really wanted for supper was the goulash Brother had for lunch. So we went back to the cafeteria in the VictulienMarkt. Alas, they were at the end of their day and out of goulash. So I had the Leberkäse which, in spite of its name, is neither liver nor cheese. It is a loaf of meat with the consistency of American hot dogs. Servers slice off a chunk and slip it between halves of a roll.
After supper we attended a concert in they nearby Holy Ghost Church (see earlier posts for photos). This concert was two trumpets and organ. It was very nice, though only one piece was written after 1800, so by my tastes it was rather tame.
The concert was an hour. After that we walked back to the apartment and I was soon in bed.
Friday, August 23, 2019
Travelogue – From church to church
Friday, August 23
Another slow start to the day, this time there is a good reason. Niece flew back to America this morning. Her flight was a bit after 7:00 am, so she and Brother left the apartment about 3:45. They caught a nearby bus to get to a train stop to get out to the airport, the whole trip was about an hour. Brother was with her in the baggage drop line, then said goodbye at the security line. He was back at the apartment about 7 and went to bed.
I heard them prepare to leave. I didn't hear Brother return. He slept until 11:00.
While waiting for him to wake up I stripped Niece's bed so that I can have the bedroom rather than the futon in the living room. I'll be able to close a door!
In a half day today Brother and I decided to explore central Munich – do the tourist things. We walked to nearby Sendlinger Tor, one of the original gates in the city wall. This must be part of the gay neighborhood because I saw an AIDS memorial. Then on down a pedestrian zone to Marienplatz, with a stop for a quick lunch. This walk included our first church of the day, the Asamkirche. It is highly decorated in the Baroque style.
Facing Marienplatz is the “new” city hall, only a couple hundred years old (yeah, new for a city founded in 1158).
Nearby is the “old” city hall. From there our walking seemed to be from church to church (though Brother hadn't advertised it as such).
There was the Holy Ghost Church …
St. Peter's Church …
Our Lady's Cathedral, yes it was much bigger than the others …
St. Michael's Church …
Citizen's Church …
And St. Anne's Church, where we didn't stay because a service was in progress.
Yeah, they seem to be variations on a theme. I had to study photo timestamps to tell which picture is from which church.
Along the way we wandered a bit through the Victualienmarkt, yeah, victuals market, a place with a lot of food stalls and a few restaurants. Brother hadn't explored this much and now will be able to visit more often.
After all those churches we went back to the Victualienmarkt in hopes of supper. But the main seating area was packed. So we went down a side street and found a place with fresh salads.
That turned out to be close to the Jewish Synagogue, which is a striking structure.
And next to that is the Jewish Museum. Back in 2005 a Jewish woman from England put an ad in several German newspapers saying she'd like to talk about anything with whomever was interested. She talked with forty five people. Some talked about what happened during the war, about what they heard from their parents or grandparents. Excerpts of these discussion are now on the exterior of the museum, some in German, some in English. Here's a paraphrase of a bit of one discussion (I would have photographed it if it wasn't printed on glass): Those Israelis are weird; they vote politics instead of economic issues. That means they vote against their economic self-interest. Which sounds a lot like America these days.
Another slow start to the day, this time there is a good reason. Niece flew back to America this morning. Her flight was a bit after 7:00 am, so she and Brother left the apartment about 3:45. They caught a nearby bus to get to a train stop to get out to the airport, the whole trip was about an hour. Brother was with her in the baggage drop line, then said goodbye at the security line. He was back at the apartment about 7 and went to bed.
I heard them prepare to leave. I didn't hear Brother return. He slept until 11:00.
While waiting for him to wake up I stripped Niece's bed so that I can have the bedroom rather than the futon in the living room. I'll be able to close a door!
In a half day today Brother and I decided to explore central Munich – do the tourist things. We walked to nearby Sendlinger Tor, one of the original gates in the city wall. This must be part of the gay neighborhood because I saw an AIDS memorial. Then on down a pedestrian zone to Marienplatz, with a stop for a quick lunch. This walk included our first church of the day, the Asamkirche. It is highly decorated in the Baroque style.
Facing Marienplatz is the “new” city hall, only a couple hundred years old (yeah, new for a city founded in 1158).
Nearby is the “old” city hall. From there our walking seemed to be from church to church (though Brother hadn't advertised it as such).
There was the Holy Ghost Church …
St. Peter's Church …
Our Lady's Cathedral, yes it was much bigger than the others …
St. Michael's Church …
Citizen's Church …
And St. Anne's Church, where we didn't stay because a service was in progress.
Yeah, they seem to be variations on a theme. I had to study photo timestamps to tell which picture is from which church.
Along the way we wandered a bit through the Victualienmarkt, yeah, victuals market, a place with a lot of food stalls and a few restaurants. Brother hadn't explored this much and now will be able to visit more often.
After all those churches we went back to the Victualienmarkt in hopes of supper. But the main seating area was packed. So we went down a side street and found a place with fresh salads.
That turned out to be close to the Jewish Synagogue, which is a striking structure.
And next to that is the Jewish Museum. Back in 2005 a Jewish woman from England put an ad in several German newspapers saying she'd like to talk about anything with whomever was interested. She talked with forty five people. Some talked about what happened during the war, about what they heard from their parents or grandparents. Excerpts of these discussion are now on the exterior of the museum, some in German, some in English. Here's a paraphrase of a bit of one discussion (I would have photographed it if it wasn't printed on glass): Those Israelis are weird; they vote politics instead of economic issues. That means they vote against their economic self-interest. Which sounds a lot like America these days.
Travelogue – Leaning on a rainbow looking bored
Thursday, August 22
We don't do mornings well. Sleeping in, lingering over breakfast, checking email, taking a shower (with three people and two bathrooms), and all kinds of other things mean we're still at the apartment at noon.
Or, in today's case, 12:45.
Munich has a great, though perhaps confusing, public transport system. There are buses, trams (streetcars), city trains (subway), suburban trains, and regional trains. They all use the same ticket system allowing one to use several in one trip. I saw a map in the main train station showing where around it are the stops for the various trains, trams, and buses. There was a lot on the map. One can also get maps of the tram system, the bus system, and the train network – they'd be too crowded to put all on one map. And then there is the phone app. One can say get me to there and the app, knowing where the phone is, figures out a route on the bus, tram, or train and shows how quickly the next conveyance will arrive. All pretty cool.
Brother used the app to get the route to our destination for the day. He looked at it and said this doesn't make sense. We could just walk up the street a few blocks and get the tram which would take us there directly. So we did. And found out why the app did what it did – because of construction there was no tram from that stop in the direction we wanted to go. So down the steps to the train station (also under construction but in use) to get a train to the main train station and pick up the tram from there.
There was also construction at the other end of our tram line, making us walk a couple extra blocks to our destination.
And that destination was the Nymphenburg Palace. This was the summer residence of the Elector of Bavaria (before 1806) and the King of Bavaria (1806 to 1913). Behind the palace is the back yard, now a huge park.
Brother and Niece decided they wanted to just enjoy the park. I wanted to tour the palace (though I had seen it 29 years ago). If we had gotten there before 2:30 I might have added entrance to the carriage museum and the little buildings scattered around the park. But the palace was enough.
The main room is in high Baroque style with a painted ceiling showing Roman gods and the pleasures of country living. Yes, this room was decorated to impress. The ruler's rooms were on one side of this hall, the wife's rooms on the other. There was also a gallery of beauties – the ruler had commissioned an artist to paint portraits of three dozen women. And, out of the ordinary for aristocrats, a couple of them were of common women (though they must have been loaned clothing because I couldn't tell which ones).
This is the front of the palace.
This is a part of the ceiling of the great hall showing the Roman gods. There's Apollo in the sun chariot, Juno with her peacock, Jupiter with thunderbolts under his feet, Neptune with his trident, Mercury with winged helmet and trumpet, and a few more. Brother says his favorite is the angel leaning against the rainbow looking bored.
One of the pleasures of the summer palace was music. Here's a couple musicians depicted in the wall of the great hall.
After my tour I joined up again with Niece and Brother and we walked through the park. We stopped at (though didn't go in) the grotto, the Pagoda (Chinese faces in the decoration, not Chinese architecture), and the bath house. We also stopped at the cascade to see the long view to the palace and enjoyed this kid on a fish with his feet in the air.
At 6:00 Niece had a previously scheduled business call that lasted 90 minutes. That allowed Brother and me to sit and talk and enjoy the surroundings.
As we were leaving through the palace front yard Brother pointed out a little door in the wall around that yard. Three years ago his wife spent her last few weeks in a care facility on the other side of that wall. When Brother needed a break he could step through that door. He said it was like the wardrobe door to Narnia with a completely different world on the other side, from care facility to royal park.
We ate supper at a Greek restaurant near the palace. I had heard during my tour that the Elector was promoted to King because he had sided with Napoleon when that general ended the Holy Roman Empire and the Elector didn't have a kaiser to elect anymore. So during supper Niece read history articles about the rise and fall of Napoleon.
We had earlier debated whether there could be such a thing as a benevolent dictator. Such a ruler could impose benefits to the people without the messiness of democracy. But would such a ruler be so caught up in enforcing the supremacy that gave him power that he would do anything for the common man? Or would all of his efforts be towards oppression?
It seems Napoleon came close to the benevolent dictator. He really did some good things for the common man, such as freedom of religion, universal education, votes by the people (though who knows if rigged), and saying professions should be chosen based on talent and not connection.
But he was also a tyrant, heavily censoring the press and making opponents disappear. And with a tyrant the people have to live with his mistakes – such as is disastrous campaign against Russia in 1812 (which Tchaikovsky wrote music about). It sounds like a half-million men died during that campaign.
After supper we worked our way back to the apartment through walking, tram, train, and more walking.
We don't do mornings well. Sleeping in, lingering over breakfast, checking email, taking a shower (with three people and two bathrooms), and all kinds of other things mean we're still at the apartment at noon.
Or, in today's case, 12:45.
Munich has a great, though perhaps confusing, public transport system. There are buses, trams (streetcars), city trains (subway), suburban trains, and regional trains. They all use the same ticket system allowing one to use several in one trip. I saw a map in the main train station showing where around it are the stops for the various trains, trams, and buses. There was a lot on the map. One can also get maps of the tram system, the bus system, and the train network – they'd be too crowded to put all on one map. And then there is the phone app. One can say get me to there and the app, knowing where the phone is, figures out a route on the bus, tram, or train and shows how quickly the next conveyance will arrive. All pretty cool.
Brother used the app to get the route to our destination for the day. He looked at it and said this doesn't make sense. We could just walk up the street a few blocks and get the tram which would take us there directly. So we did. And found out why the app did what it did – because of construction there was no tram from that stop in the direction we wanted to go. So down the steps to the train station (also under construction but in use) to get a train to the main train station and pick up the tram from there.
There was also construction at the other end of our tram line, making us walk a couple extra blocks to our destination.
And that destination was the Nymphenburg Palace. This was the summer residence of the Elector of Bavaria (before 1806) and the King of Bavaria (1806 to 1913). Behind the palace is the back yard, now a huge park.
Brother and Niece decided they wanted to just enjoy the park. I wanted to tour the palace (though I had seen it 29 years ago). If we had gotten there before 2:30 I might have added entrance to the carriage museum and the little buildings scattered around the park. But the palace was enough.
The main room is in high Baroque style with a painted ceiling showing Roman gods and the pleasures of country living. Yes, this room was decorated to impress. The ruler's rooms were on one side of this hall, the wife's rooms on the other. There was also a gallery of beauties – the ruler had commissioned an artist to paint portraits of three dozen women. And, out of the ordinary for aristocrats, a couple of them were of common women (though they must have been loaned clothing because I couldn't tell which ones).
This is the front of the palace.
This is a part of the ceiling of the great hall showing the Roman gods. There's Apollo in the sun chariot, Juno with her peacock, Jupiter with thunderbolts under his feet, Neptune with his trident, Mercury with winged helmet and trumpet, and a few more. Brother says his favorite is the angel leaning against the rainbow looking bored.
One of the pleasures of the summer palace was music. Here's a couple musicians depicted in the wall of the great hall.
After my tour I joined up again with Niece and Brother and we walked through the park. We stopped at (though didn't go in) the grotto, the Pagoda (Chinese faces in the decoration, not Chinese architecture), and the bath house. We also stopped at the cascade to see the long view to the palace and enjoyed this kid on a fish with his feet in the air.
At 6:00 Niece had a previously scheduled business call that lasted 90 minutes. That allowed Brother and me to sit and talk and enjoy the surroundings.
As we were leaving through the palace front yard Brother pointed out a little door in the wall around that yard. Three years ago his wife spent her last few weeks in a care facility on the other side of that wall. When Brother needed a break he could step through that door. He said it was like the wardrobe door to Narnia with a completely different world on the other side, from care facility to royal park.
We ate supper at a Greek restaurant near the palace. I had heard during my tour that the Elector was promoted to King because he had sided with Napoleon when that general ended the Holy Roman Empire and the Elector didn't have a kaiser to elect anymore. So during supper Niece read history articles about the rise and fall of Napoleon.
We had earlier debated whether there could be such a thing as a benevolent dictator. Such a ruler could impose benefits to the people without the messiness of democracy. But would such a ruler be so caught up in enforcing the supremacy that gave him power that he would do anything for the common man? Or would all of his efforts be towards oppression?
It seems Napoleon came close to the benevolent dictator. He really did some good things for the common man, such as freedom of religion, universal education, votes by the people (though who knows if rigged), and saying professions should be chosen based on talent and not connection.
But he was also a tyrant, heavily censoring the press and making opponents disappear. And with a tyrant the people have to live with his mistakes – such as is disastrous campaign against Russia in 1812 (which Tchaikovsky wrote music about). It sounds like a half-million men died during that campaign.
After supper we worked our way back to the apartment through walking, tram, train, and more walking.
Thursday, August 22, 2019
Travelogue – On the bicycle
Tuesday, August 20
As I mentioned a few days ago a good chunk of today was taken up by laundry. So I didn't get dressed until late in the afternoon. The rain canceled possible other events. So not a lot happened.
Brother went down the street to a Turkish takeout for Döner, pita bread or wraps filled with lettuce, cabbage, tomato, onion, a couple sauces, spices, and grilled meat. Back in Detroit the meat would be beef and lamb. Here the meat is turkey and chicken. The meat is layered and put on a large spit. As it turns it is toasted. When an order is filled the attendant has a device to shave off bits to scoop up into the meal. Since Brother doesn't do much cooking (other than breakfast) he has to be careful not to default to eating a Döner every day for lunch.
We all ventured out in the evening, with umbrellas, to an Indian restaurant a few blocks away. Good food!
Beyond that I spent most of the day writing, reviewing, and selecting photos for blog posts of our travels.
Wednesday, August 21
Another quiet and slow morning including a late breakfast.
By 12:30 we were ready for adventure. Brother has a really good bicycle and borrowed a couple more from friends. From the apartment we traveled (on designated bike lanes – thank you Munich!) over to the Isar River a few blocks away. We got on the bike paths beside the river and headed south and upstream. The weather was mostly overcast with a high of 64F. That makes for comfortable riding – one doesn't get sweaty – though I was a bit chilly during lunch.
By 1:45 we had ridden about a dozen kilometers and were near a pub. We decided to have lunch then in case the pub closed for the afternoon at 2:00.
Once fed we went a couple more kilometers south. Beyond that point the trail was less maintained and rather hilly. It was a good place to turn around.
For much of our route there is a canal alongside the river. The canal is there to allow for occasional dams to generate power. For part of the return trip we rode atop the levee between the canal and river.
There was one problem with the trip. The seat on my loaner bike was uncomfortable and by the end downright painful. Brother has another bike trip planned for Saturday with friends in the foothills of the Alps. This one includes taking a train south to a nice starting point. I said it sounds good – only if I get a comfortable bike seat.
While at Tintagel Brother bought a book about the adventures of King Arthur. Niece has been reading to us from it during meals. She even took it on the bike trip too read during lunch and at rest stops.
This book has prompted Niece to read up on King Arthur. Because of the legends must there be a kernel of truth? Or is Arthur the historians' biggest waste of time? If Arthur did exist he would have lived sometime about 450-600, after the Romans left Britain and during the time the residents were dealing with the horrible decision to hire the Saxons to keep the peace. Alas, the Saxons kept upping their salary demands and pillaging the countryside when their demands weren't met. Someone had to drive them out. This summary is according to Niece.
The illustrations of the King Arthur book are new for the 2016 edition. The text is from 1902 and is quite archaic to our ears. We frequently interrupt the reading to comment on details that seem to be from after the Norman invasion (the whole idea of chivalrous knights) or even after Henry VIII created the church of England (the prominence of the Archbishop of Canterbury). We also interrup to point out which parts of the story must be legend (Arthur healing from a sword blow to the head in four days) and how the legend might serve the storytellers of 1900. And more interruptions to comment on some absurd part of the tale. This has been fun. The story has been pretty good too.
We were back at the apartment before 5:00 and headed out to a pub for supper at 6:30 (rather early for us). Niece thought the pub, only a few blocks from the apartment, is an active part of the gay neighborhood (we did see a few rainbow flags). Was one of the hints the spinning disco ball?
Back at the apartment I created an evening concert through the wonderful resource of YouTube. We had talked about various kinds of music during our journeys and this was a chance to listen to a few of them. First in the play list was minimalism, so featured Music for 18 Musicians by Steve Reich (about 9 minutes of that hour long piece was enough, though Niece though it would be good sonic wallpaper), then A Short Ride in a Fast Machine and the last movement of Harmonielehre both by John Adams (the composer, not the president). Niece thought this would make good movie music, though not so good to simply listen to. From there we ventured into the Prelude and Liebestodt from Tristan and Isolde by Wagner. I played this because of the lovers' association with Tintagel. Then on to the last movement of the Great C Major Symphony of Schubert, before cycling back to Wagner and Wotan's Farewell from Die Walküre. Niece says she may be on her way of becoming a Wagner fan.
As I mentioned a few days ago a good chunk of today was taken up by laundry. So I didn't get dressed until late in the afternoon. The rain canceled possible other events. So not a lot happened.
Brother went down the street to a Turkish takeout for Döner, pita bread or wraps filled with lettuce, cabbage, tomato, onion, a couple sauces, spices, and grilled meat. Back in Detroit the meat would be beef and lamb. Here the meat is turkey and chicken. The meat is layered and put on a large spit. As it turns it is toasted. When an order is filled the attendant has a device to shave off bits to scoop up into the meal. Since Brother doesn't do much cooking (other than breakfast) he has to be careful not to default to eating a Döner every day for lunch.
We all ventured out in the evening, with umbrellas, to an Indian restaurant a few blocks away. Good food!
Beyond that I spent most of the day writing, reviewing, and selecting photos for blog posts of our travels.
Wednesday, August 21
Another quiet and slow morning including a late breakfast.
By 12:30 we were ready for adventure. Brother has a really good bicycle and borrowed a couple more from friends. From the apartment we traveled (on designated bike lanes – thank you Munich!) over to the Isar River a few blocks away. We got on the bike paths beside the river and headed south and upstream. The weather was mostly overcast with a high of 64F. That makes for comfortable riding – one doesn't get sweaty – though I was a bit chilly during lunch.
By 1:45 we had ridden about a dozen kilometers and were near a pub. We decided to have lunch then in case the pub closed for the afternoon at 2:00.
Once fed we went a couple more kilometers south. Beyond that point the trail was less maintained and rather hilly. It was a good place to turn around.
For much of our route there is a canal alongside the river. The canal is there to allow for occasional dams to generate power. For part of the return trip we rode atop the levee between the canal and river.
There was one problem with the trip. The seat on my loaner bike was uncomfortable and by the end downright painful. Brother has another bike trip planned for Saturday with friends in the foothills of the Alps. This one includes taking a train south to a nice starting point. I said it sounds good – only if I get a comfortable bike seat.
While at Tintagel Brother bought a book about the adventures of King Arthur. Niece has been reading to us from it during meals. She even took it on the bike trip too read during lunch and at rest stops.
This book has prompted Niece to read up on King Arthur. Because of the legends must there be a kernel of truth? Or is Arthur the historians' biggest waste of time? If Arthur did exist he would have lived sometime about 450-600, after the Romans left Britain and during the time the residents were dealing with the horrible decision to hire the Saxons to keep the peace. Alas, the Saxons kept upping their salary demands and pillaging the countryside when their demands weren't met. Someone had to drive them out. This summary is according to Niece.
The illustrations of the King Arthur book are new for the 2016 edition. The text is from 1902 and is quite archaic to our ears. We frequently interrupt the reading to comment on details that seem to be from after the Norman invasion (the whole idea of chivalrous knights) or even after Henry VIII created the church of England (the prominence of the Archbishop of Canterbury). We also interrup to point out which parts of the story must be legend (Arthur healing from a sword blow to the head in four days) and how the legend might serve the storytellers of 1900. And more interruptions to comment on some absurd part of the tale. This has been fun. The story has been pretty good too.
We were back at the apartment before 5:00 and headed out to a pub for supper at 6:30 (rather early for us). Niece thought the pub, only a few blocks from the apartment, is an active part of the gay neighborhood (we did see a few rainbow flags). Was one of the hints the spinning disco ball?
Back at the apartment I created an evening concert through the wonderful resource of YouTube. We had talked about various kinds of music during our journeys and this was a chance to listen to a few of them. First in the play list was minimalism, so featured Music for 18 Musicians by Steve Reich (about 9 minutes of that hour long piece was enough, though Niece though it would be good sonic wallpaper), then A Short Ride in a Fast Machine and the last movement of Harmonielehre both by John Adams (the composer, not the president). Niece thought this would make good movie music, though not so good to simply listen to. From there we ventured into the Prelude and Liebestodt from Tristan and Isolde by Wagner. I played this because of the lovers' association with Tintagel. Then on to the last movement of the Great C Major Symphony of Schubert, before cycling back to Wagner and Wotan's Farewell from Die Walküre. Niece says she may be on her way of becoming a Wagner fan.
Wednesday, August 21, 2019
Travelogue – A dash across England
Monday, August 19
Niece had a small breakfast, then came back with a bit of news – the hotel had found something that could be used as a tuning wrench for the harp. She got her phone and its tuning app and set to work. Of course, she then had to sit and play it for a while. She looked so happy sitting there. And so we sat to listen for a while.
Our main task for the day was to get back to Munich. The first part of that was to get back to Heathrow. Based on time estimates compared to reality when getting to Exeter we thought we should allow a lot of extra time.
We left Tintagel at about 10:15 with an estimate of four hours of driving (including known backups on the highway). I monitored routes for which was fastest (or if scenic only a couple minutes slower). We had about six hours of time. We did stop a couple times, including to buy lunch to eat in the car (Brother declined lunch, saying he had a big breakfast and wanted to drive on). Total stopped time was probably less than an hour. It still took all six hours.
We turned in the car and took their shuttle to the terminal. Lufthansa has tried to automate as much as possible, so it was up to us to stop at a kiosk to print our baggage tags. Brother knew about this effort, so downloaded all three boarding passes to his phone. But shifting from one pass to another was too cumbersome so an agent intervened and printed our passes. We got through security smoothly (the nail now in my checked bag). We had time for a snack and for Brother to have lunch.
Our gate was announced at 5:10. Signs to the gate said it was a 13 minute walk. Our boarding pass said we needed to be at the gate by 5:25. Something doesn't quite add up here. So, yeah, we were still boarding at the 5:50 departure time. Then had to wait in line to take off (there were 12 jets behind us when we flew). We still got to Munich at about the stated arrival time.
In most airports (and from my flight from the USA) the walk from the gate to customs control was pretty spartan and direct. This time there were many shops and lots of other people heading to other gates. It didn't look right. We followed the signs for baggage claim and just before we got there was passport control.
A train ride into the city. A walk in the rain to the apartment. And then to bed.
Niece had a small breakfast, then came back with a bit of news – the hotel had found something that could be used as a tuning wrench for the harp. She got her phone and its tuning app and set to work. Of course, she then had to sit and play it for a while. She looked so happy sitting there. And so we sat to listen for a while.
Our main task for the day was to get back to Munich. The first part of that was to get back to Heathrow. Based on time estimates compared to reality when getting to Exeter we thought we should allow a lot of extra time.
We left Tintagel at about 10:15 with an estimate of four hours of driving (including known backups on the highway). I monitored routes for which was fastest (or if scenic only a couple minutes slower). We had about six hours of time. We did stop a couple times, including to buy lunch to eat in the car (Brother declined lunch, saying he had a big breakfast and wanted to drive on). Total stopped time was probably less than an hour. It still took all six hours.
We turned in the car and took their shuttle to the terminal. Lufthansa has tried to automate as much as possible, so it was up to us to stop at a kiosk to print our baggage tags. Brother knew about this effort, so downloaded all three boarding passes to his phone. But shifting from one pass to another was too cumbersome so an agent intervened and printed our passes. We got through security smoothly (the nail now in my checked bag). We had time for a snack and for Brother to have lunch.
Our gate was announced at 5:10. Signs to the gate said it was a 13 minute walk. Our boarding pass said we needed to be at the gate by 5:25. Something doesn't quite add up here. So, yeah, we were still boarding at the 5:50 departure time. Then had to wait in line to take off (there were 12 jets behind us when we flew). We still got to Munich at about the stated arrival time.
In most airports (and from my flight from the USA) the walk from the gate to customs control was pretty spartan and direct. This time there were many shops and lots of other people heading to other gates. It didn't look right. We followed the signs for baggage claim and just before we got there was passport control.
A train ride into the city. A walk in the rain to the apartment. And then to bed.
Travelogue – Merlin and wind
Sunday, August 18
Before bed last night I asked at the pub about breakfast. Yeah, the do serve it – when the pub opens at 10:00. We want to be on the road well before then, what about earlier? There is place down the street just beyond the little grocery store.
So at about 8 we ventured out. Just past the grocery store and … no restaurants. We walked a bit farther, still nothing. We went back to the grocery store and bought a few ready made items for our breakfast.
We got the early start because we attended services in Chulmleigh at 10:30. It's a village about 25 miles, a 45 minute drive, northwest of Exeter. Yes, it is miles – though Britain has converted to Metric road distances were exempted.
Chulmleigh is where my dad's mother's family is from. Roger Greenslade was born in Chulmleigh in 1829 and married there in 1850 to Elizabeth Molland. Roger's father James was born in nearby Cheldon in 1791 and mother Rose Vicary was born in nearby Ashreighney in 1790. In 1854 James, Rose, Roger, Elizabeth, and Elizabeth's first two children immigrated to northern Ohio. Our ancestor, Roger Luke, the 9th child, was born in Ohio in 1868. His twin, Mark, lived only 15 months.
We can trace the Greenslade line another five generations before James. Most of them were born in Cheldon or Chawleigh, another nearby village.
The service that morning was pleasant. The congregation was small, which didn't help on the singing, which were several contemporary songs – nice, but nobody knew them. One of the members was the speaker. She did a good job, though wasn't a practiced speaker.
Before and after the service we talked to Marilyn, Elaine, and Paul. Elaine explained the interior – the screen was Tudor (and included the Tudor rose). The ceiling and its simply carved angels was also from that time. As for the rest – the Victorians came in, swept out the old stuff, and redecorated. That included the pulpit, the altar area, and the windows. So none of that was around when Roger married Elizabeth.
Elaine showed me a list of the names on the stones in the graveyard surrounding the church. Alas, no Greenslades, though the book saved us the trouble of walking through the churchyard. England doesn't follow the German rules of graves. When you buy one, it's yours. Old headstones stay around – though because of weather reading them could be a problem.
Paul was friendly and tried to be helpful. He offered to get us in contact with someone who might know more. His wife reminded him of a couple Greenslades in town. He hadn't made contact by the time we left town. He later emailed us some genealogy info of Greenslades. Our first reply to him was to ask for his sources.
We walked to the nearby pub for lunch. The waiter told us a large group had just ordered and our food wouldn't come for 45 minutes. At least they told us. We weren't real hungry yet, so went off to Chawleigh, a couple miles away. There we found a few graves with the name Saunders. That's the maaiden name of Rose Vicary's mother. Here's the Chawleigh church.
On to Cheldon, the smallest of the three villages and three churches. These days one pastor serves all three (and another nine). Cheldon has a service once a month (and someone along the way said none of the attendees are from Cheldon).
In Cheldon we found two headstones with the Greenslade name. Niece made a valiant effort to figure out what they said. One was for Emma Greenslade, who died in 1890, and the other was for (we think) Elizabeth Greenslade, who died in 1815.
Back in Chulmleigh, the pub was closed (we didn't want to take the time for a sit-down meal anyway) and the Indian take-away wouldn't open for three hours. So another meal out of a grocery store.
We drove across the Devon countryside, much of it on country roads one lane wide with big hedgerows on both sides. We kept the speed down and squeezed against the hedges when another car or a farm tractor passed.
Our destination was Tintagel on the Cornwall coast. There is a rocky peninsula that's almost an island. On the island are the remains of a Dark Ages settlement (“dark” because there are almost no written sources). The time would have been about the 5th to 7th Centuries. It may have been associated with the kings of Cornwall. In the 1100s Geoffrey of Monmouth wrote A History of the Kings of Britain (there was already enough kingly history to write a book?). This book said Tintagel was where King Arthur was conceived, so the place has been associated with that legend ever since. That legend prompted Richard, Earl of Cornwall to build a small castle here. Add into that mix the story of King Mark of Cornwall, his wife Iseult, and her lover Tristan (Wagner wrote a beautiful opera, Tristan and Isolde, the prelude of which I had used in my music theory classes).
Now there is a pretty cool new footbridge over the chasm between the mainland and island …
… rugged coast …
… ruins …
… a sculpture of Merlin …
… and a lot of wind.
We stayed at the Camelot Castle Hotel. It's a grand place, built in 1899 and refurbished starting in 1999. The rooms were cheaper than I expected (which is why I booked it), though I think they made up for it in the set price dinner (and it was a fine dinner).
Niece was captivated by the harp she found in the hotel's living room. She plays harp and hasn't been able to touch one for about five weeks. So, even though it was out of tune, she sat down and played. She also captivated a couple children, who watched and wanted to try for themselves, with Niece happily coaching.
Here's part of that living room. The table on the left is supposedly Arthur's Roundtable with the names of the various knights inscribed. Alas, it was in a script I couldn't read.
This place does get the award for the smallest bathroom. How small? The towel rack was outside. It was a modular thing that reminded me of an airplane bathroom with a little space to one side for a shower. Brother said at least we didn't have to go down the hall for toilet and showers, as the guests through much of the 20th Century had to do.
Before bed last night I asked at the pub about breakfast. Yeah, the do serve it – when the pub opens at 10:00. We want to be on the road well before then, what about earlier? There is place down the street just beyond the little grocery store.
So at about 8 we ventured out. Just past the grocery store and … no restaurants. We walked a bit farther, still nothing. We went back to the grocery store and bought a few ready made items for our breakfast.
We got the early start because we attended services in Chulmleigh at 10:30. It's a village about 25 miles, a 45 minute drive, northwest of Exeter. Yes, it is miles – though Britain has converted to Metric road distances were exempted.
Chulmleigh is where my dad's mother's family is from. Roger Greenslade was born in Chulmleigh in 1829 and married there in 1850 to Elizabeth Molland. Roger's father James was born in nearby Cheldon in 1791 and mother Rose Vicary was born in nearby Ashreighney in 1790. In 1854 James, Rose, Roger, Elizabeth, and Elizabeth's first two children immigrated to northern Ohio. Our ancestor, Roger Luke, the 9th child, was born in Ohio in 1868. His twin, Mark, lived only 15 months.
We can trace the Greenslade line another five generations before James. Most of them were born in Cheldon or Chawleigh, another nearby village.
The service that morning was pleasant. The congregation was small, which didn't help on the singing, which were several contemporary songs – nice, but nobody knew them. One of the members was the speaker. She did a good job, though wasn't a practiced speaker.
Before and after the service we talked to Marilyn, Elaine, and Paul. Elaine explained the interior – the screen was Tudor (and included the Tudor rose). The ceiling and its simply carved angels was also from that time. As for the rest – the Victorians came in, swept out the old stuff, and redecorated. That included the pulpit, the altar area, and the windows. So none of that was around when Roger married Elizabeth.
Elaine showed me a list of the names on the stones in the graveyard surrounding the church. Alas, no Greenslades, though the book saved us the trouble of walking through the churchyard. England doesn't follow the German rules of graves. When you buy one, it's yours. Old headstones stay around – though because of weather reading them could be a problem.
Paul was friendly and tried to be helpful. He offered to get us in contact with someone who might know more. His wife reminded him of a couple Greenslades in town. He hadn't made contact by the time we left town. He later emailed us some genealogy info of Greenslades. Our first reply to him was to ask for his sources.
We walked to the nearby pub for lunch. The waiter told us a large group had just ordered and our food wouldn't come for 45 minutes. At least they told us. We weren't real hungry yet, so went off to Chawleigh, a couple miles away. There we found a few graves with the name Saunders. That's the maaiden name of Rose Vicary's mother. Here's the Chawleigh church.
On to Cheldon, the smallest of the three villages and three churches. These days one pastor serves all three (and another nine). Cheldon has a service once a month (and someone along the way said none of the attendees are from Cheldon).
In Cheldon we found two headstones with the Greenslade name. Niece made a valiant effort to figure out what they said. One was for Emma Greenslade, who died in 1890, and the other was for (we think) Elizabeth Greenslade, who died in 1815.
Back in Chulmleigh, the pub was closed (we didn't want to take the time for a sit-down meal anyway) and the Indian take-away wouldn't open for three hours. So another meal out of a grocery store.
We drove across the Devon countryside, much of it on country roads one lane wide with big hedgerows on both sides. We kept the speed down and squeezed against the hedges when another car or a farm tractor passed.
Our destination was Tintagel on the Cornwall coast. There is a rocky peninsula that's almost an island. On the island are the remains of a Dark Ages settlement (“dark” because there are almost no written sources). The time would have been about the 5th to 7th Centuries. It may have been associated with the kings of Cornwall. In the 1100s Geoffrey of Monmouth wrote A History of the Kings of Britain (there was already enough kingly history to write a book?). This book said Tintagel was where King Arthur was conceived, so the place has been associated with that legend ever since. That legend prompted Richard, Earl of Cornwall to build a small castle here. Add into that mix the story of King Mark of Cornwall, his wife Iseult, and her lover Tristan (Wagner wrote a beautiful opera, Tristan and Isolde, the prelude of which I had used in my music theory classes).
Now there is a pretty cool new footbridge over the chasm between the mainland and island …
… rugged coast …
… ruins …
… a sculpture of Merlin …
… and a lot of wind.
We stayed at the Camelot Castle Hotel. It's a grand place, built in 1899 and refurbished starting in 1999. The rooms were cheaper than I expected (which is why I booked it), though I think they made up for it in the set price dinner (and it was a fine dinner).
Niece was captivated by the harp she found in the hotel's living room. She plays harp and hasn't been able to touch one for about five weeks. So, even though it was out of tune, she sat down and played. She also captivated a couple children, who watched and wanted to try for themselves, with Niece happily coaching.
Here's part of that living room. The table on the left is supposedly Arthur's Roundtable with the names of the various knights inscribed. Alas, it was in a script I couldn't read.
This place does get the award for the smallest bathroom. How small? The towel rack was outside. It was a modular thing that reminded me of an airplane bathroom with a little space to one side for a shower. Brother said at least we didn't have to go down the hall for toilet and showers, as the guests through much of the 20th Century had to do.
Travelogue – Tower bells
Saturday, August 17
During breakfast we talked to our hostess about our genealogy work and what we planned to see in Devon. She got out her copy of the Domesday Book in modern English. The book is essentially a census done after 1080, just a couple decades after the Norman invasion. The new king wanted to know what he ruled. Interesting that it listed livestock but not peasants. The important point for us was that the villages our ancestors lived in and then left in 1854 were already well established in 1080.
We left Worthing at about 10:45, a little later than we wanted. We decided on the scenic route to Exeter. At lunchtime we got off the main road and I confused left and right (amazingly easy to do in England) and led Brother down the wrong road which didn't have exits. I tried to get the map on the phone to tell us where restaurants were, but it wouldn't cooperate. In frustration I handed the phone to Niece, who guided us to a pub where we had a nice lunch.
We got into Exeter at 5:00, about an hour later than the navigation system on the phone suggested we would. This meant we weren't able to see inside some of the buildings, like the cathedral. Our hotel turned out to be or third one above a pub.
We set out to explore the town. We walked through Northernhay Gardens which had sections of Roman and Saxon walls. Then on through the downtown pedestrian zone and the Exeter Riddle, a monument with eight riddles on it (I didn't write them down to share). That's Brother in front of the monument and niece to the right.
At this hour the cathedral was closed for the day. As we got close, however, we could hear the bells ring. I could identify it as English change ringing and was delighted to hear it. I explained to Niece and Brother that in change ringing the bells are mounted on wheels that allow them to be rung a single time. Ringers pull on ropes to ring the bells in descending order. Once that is going smoothly they begin to ring changes – each time all the bells are played they are in a different order and ringers must know the pattern of how their bell moves through the order. A “peal” is about 40 thousand different orders and can take 15 hours to perform. Most ringing towers have plaques for those who complete a quarter peal. A much more complete explanation occupied our supper.
That supper was at a restaurant in the Quay near the Customs House. This used to be the shipping port. Now it is a place of restaurants and pubs. Many of our days were a big breakfast at 7:30 or 8, lunch at 1 or 2 and supper at about 7 or 8.
The hotel room was OK, though I think they were trying hard for the smallest bathroom. Then there was the big sodium light outside my window that illuminated the building in the evening.
During breakfast we talked to our hostess about our genealogy work and what we planned to see in Devon. She got out her copy of the Domesday Book in modern English. The book is essentially a census done after 1080, just a couple decades after the Norman invasion. The new king wanted to know what he ruled. Interesting that it listed livestock but not peasants. The important point for us was that the villages our ancestors lived in and then left in 1854 were already well established in 1080.
We left Worthing at about 10:45, a little later than we wanted. We decided on the scenic route to Exeter. At lunchtime we got off the main road and I confused left and right (amazingly easy to do in England) and led Brother down the wrong road which didn't have exits. I tried to get the map on the phone to tell us where restaurants were, but it wouldn't cooperate. In frustration I handed the phone to Niece, who guided us to a pub where we had a nice lunch.
We got into Exeter at 5:00, about an hour later than the navigation system on the phone suggested we would. This meant we weren't able to see inside some of the buildings, like the cathedral. Our hotel turned out to be or third one above a pub.
We set out to explore the town. We walked through Northernhay Gardens which had sections of Roman and Saxon walls. Then on through the downtown pedestrian zone and the Exeter Riddle, a monument with eight riddles on it (I didn't write them down to share). That's Brother in front of the monument and niece to the right.
At this hour the cathedral was closed for the day. As we got close, however, we could hear the bells ring. I could identify it as English change ringing and was delighted to hear it. I explained to Niece and Brother that in change ringing the bells are mounted on wheels that allow them to be rung a single time. Ringers pull on ropes to ring the bells in descending order. Once that is going smoothly they begin to ring changes – each time all the bells are played they are in a different order and ringers must know the pattern of how their bell moves through the order. A “peal” is about 40 thousand different orders and can take 15 hours to perform. Most ringing towers have plaques for those who complete a quarter peal. A much more complete explanation occupied our supper.
That supper was at a restaurant in the Quay near the Customs House. This used to be the shipping port. Now it is a place of restaurants and pubs. Many of our days were a big breakfast at 7:30 or 8, lunch at 1 or 2 and supper at about 7 or 8.
The hotel room was OK, though I think they were trying hard for the smallest bathroom. Then there was the big sodium light outside my window that illuminated the building in the evening.
Travelogue – Pleasure palace
Friday, August 16
I knew I hadn't taken photos at TASIS, but I had forgotten I had taken photos from the plane. I saw them when I looked for photos for today. So here's one that should have been included in the post of yesterday's events. It is of London and includes the London Eye, the Houses of Parliament, and Westminster Abbey.
At breakfast Brother told me about the room he and Niece shared at the hotel. Niece saw one bedbug. She had lived through a bedbug problem in an apartment and didn't want to live through another. Those pests are quite hard to eliminate. Brother said that if she had seen a second bedbug he would have woken me up and we would have fled to a Holiday Inn near the airport (not far away). One reason why they didn't was it was already after midnight. Even with one bedbug they put their luggage in the car.
Though Brother lived in Chertsey for three years he never checked out Chertsey Abbey. I was with his wife and daughters when they did it 20 years ago. So this morning we went to Abbey Park.
The Abbey was built in the 800s and was a thriving place for a few centuries. It even survived an attack or two by Vikings (the Abbey survived, the monks didn't). But in the early 1500s Henry VIII dissolved the monasteries. This particular Abbey was torn down and the rubble used to build other structures. About all that's left is part of a stone wall. And a map showing the Abbey stood over there where those houses are now.
So Niece followed a public path into a farm (yeah, the path winds between the house and the barn). Soon a man, who I guess was in his late 70s, came out to talk. Brother and I joined them and were introduced to Robin. He was quite a character and we ended up talking with him for about an hour. He talked about the history of the abbey, that the monks were a bit too rowdy and the paths to the nun's residences were a bit too well trod. He talked about his time in America – for several years he lived each spring and fall on Key West. He opened the barn to show us his big Chevy Suburban and the vintage motorcycle he is rebuilding (with another 10 bikes under tarps). He talked about his work with a raptor recovery and breeding program. I'm sure there were several other topics in there as well.
We parked the car near the house where Brother and family used to live and walked up the hill to it. This allowed us to stop and look it over. The big change was a wood fence above the brick wall which completely hid the first floor and much of the second from the street.
We drove on to Brighton. After finding a place to park we looked for lunch. The first pub turned us down. It was nearly 2:00, when they closed for the afternoon. The pub next door did provide a meal, though we were the only customers there.
On to the Royal Pavilion. We got an audio tour – one of those handheld devices that gives a 3 minute spiel in the major rooms. The place was built in the early 1800s for George, the Crown Prince, as his pleasure palace. The outside architecture has many Indian influences, the inside is mostly Chinese. The Prince would hold lavish dinner parties with up to 100 different dishes in a room where the chandelier hung from a dragon. Mostly the prince ran up debts. He became George IV in 1820 and died ten years later from obesity and gout.
William IV used the place a few times in his seven years as king. Victoria didn't think the place was suitable for her growing family. She removed the furnishings and sold the place to the city of Brighton. The current royal family has returned some of the furnishings on permanent loan. Because of such agreements we couldn't photograph the interior.
Here's the exterior.
When the tour was over rain was falling, the kind that settles in for a while. And our umbrellas were back in the car. Even so, we walked the few blocks to the coast. Our decision to not go out on the Brighton Pier was an easy one.
Through the course of the trip Niece has become much more interested in our family history. As we talked about our family roots in Devon (this time Dad's side of the family) she liked the idea of visiting the Devon Archives to do a bit of research. This was an idea she resisted when we planned the trip. So during our afternoon ice cream and coffee I check on archive opening hours. The would next be open on Tuesday – and we would be leaving Devon Monday morning.
I hadn't found a hotel in Brighton both with a price we could afford and with a vacancy. So I had chosen one a half hour to the west in Worthing. It turned out to be a lovely Bed and Breakfast place, much better than where we stayed the night before. It was also right on the coast. We could see a line of wind turbines, which we were later told were 16 kilometers from shore.
Niece said she wasn't hungry for supper, so Brother and I walked a few blocks – in the wind – to a fish and chips restaurant. That's where I found what whitebait is. I didn't want a full meal and this was the starter that looked like fish but wasn't shrimp or calamari. Whitebait are tiny fish, so small it doesn't make sense to skin or behead them. The whole fish is dipped in batter and fried. Brother said he'd be impressed if I ate the entire serving. I made it about halfway through. I then concentrated on my cole slaw and ate a few bites of Brother's cod.
We walked back to the hotel. This time there was rain with the wind. I held tight to my umbrella.
I knew I hadn't taken photos at TASIS, but I had forgotten I had taken photos from the plane. I saw them when I looked for photos for today. So here's one that should have been included in the post of yesterday's events. It is of London and includes the London Eye, the Houses of Parliament, and Westminster Abbey.
At breakfast Brother told me about the room he and Niece shared at the hotel. Niece saw one bedbug. She had lived through a bedbug problem in an apartment and didn't want to live through another. Those pests are quite hard to eliminate. Brother said that if she had seen a second bedbug he would have woken me up and we would have fled to a Holiday Inn near the airport (not far away). One reason why they didn't was it was already after midnight. Even with one bedbug they put their luggage in the car.
Though Brother lived in Chertsey for three years he never checked out Chertsey Abbey. I was with his wife and daughters when they did it 20 years ago. So this morning we went to Abbey Park.
The Abbey was built in the 800s and was a thriving place for a few centuries. It even survived an attack or two by Vikings (the Abbey survived, the monks didn't). But in the early 1500s Henry VIII dissolved the monasteries. This particular Abbey was torn down and the rubble used to build other structures. About all that's left is part of a stone wall. And a map showing the Abbey stood over there where those houses are now.
So Niece followed a public path into a farm (yeah, the path winds between the house and the barn). Soon a man, who I guess was in his late 70s, came out to talk. Brother and I joined them and were introduced to Robin. He was quite a character and we ended up talking with him for about an hour. He talked about the history of the abbey, that the monks were a bit too rowdy and the paths to the nun's residences were a bit too well trod. He talked about his time in America – for several years he lived each spring and fall on Key West. He opened the barn to show us his big Chevy Suburban and the vintage motorcycle he is rebuilding (with another 10 bikes under tarps). He talked about his work with a raptor recovery and breeding program. I'm sure there were several other topics in there as well.
We parked the car near the house where Brother and family used to live and walked up the hill to it. This allowed us to stop and look it over. The big change was a wood fence above the brick wall which completely hid the first floor and much of the second from the street.
We drove on to Brighton. After finding a place to park we looked for lunch. The first pub turned us down. It was nearly 2:00, when they closed for the afternoon. The pub next door did provide a meal, though we were the only customers there.
On to the Royal Pavilion. We got an audio tour – one of those handheld devices that gives a 3 minute spiel in the major rooms. The place was built in the early 1800s for George, the Crown Prince, as his pleasure palace. The outside architecture has many Indian influences, the inside is mostly Chinese. The Prince would hold lavish dinner parties with up to 100 different dishes in a room where the chandelier hung from a dragon. Mostly the prince ran up debts. He became George IV in 1820 and died ten years later from obesity and gout.
William IV used the place a few times in his seven years as king. Victoria didn't think the place was suitable for her growing family. She removed the furnishings and sold the place to the city of Brighton. The current royal family has returned some of the furnishings on permanent loan. Because of such agreements we couldn't photograph the interior.
Here's the exterior.
When the tour was over rain was falling, the kind that settles in for a while. And our umbrellas were back in the car. Even so, we walked the few blocks to the coast. Our decision to not go out on the Brighton Pier was an easy one.
Through the course of the trip Niece has become much more interested in our family history. As we talked about our family roots in Devon (this time Dad's side of the family) she liked the idea of visiting the Devon Archives to do a bit of research. This was an idea she resisted when we planned the trip. So during our afternoon ice cream and coffee I check on archive opening hours. The would next be open on Tuesday – and we would be leaving Devon Monday morning.
I hadn't found a hotel in Brighton both with a price we could afford and with a vacancy. So I had chosen one a half hour to the west in Worthing. It turned out to be a lovely Bed and Breakfast place, much better than where we stayed the night before. It was also right on the coast. We could see a line of wind turbines, which we were later told were 16 kilometers from shore.
Niece said she wasn't hungry for supper, so Brother and I walked a few blocks – in the wind – to a fish and chips restaurant. That's where I found what whitebait is. I didn't want a full meal and this was the starter that looked like fish but wasn't shrimp or calamari. Whitebait are tiny fish, so small it doesn't make sense to skin or behead them. The whole fish is dipped in batter and fried. Brother said he'd be impressed if I ate the entire serving. I made it about halfway through. I then concentrated on my cole slaw and ate a few bites of Brother's cod.
We walked back to the hotel. This time there was rain with the wind. I held tight to my umbrella.
Travelogue – Rediscover a part of childhood
Thursday, August 15
We had a leisurely morning at the hotel, sleeping in and enjoying breakfast. We checked out a bit before the designated 11:00. Then we walked the short distance to the train station and took a train to the airport.
After checking bags we faced a decision – whether to eat lunch before security (lots of fine options) or after (options unknown). We ate before, though it seemed we just had breakfast. That turned out to be a good decision – there wasn't much other than duty free shops beyond security.
I had a small problem during the security check. This past Sunday Brother had given me the gift from the Talle pastor and the nail was in my carryon bag. I had completely forgotten it was there. Of course, the x-ray found it and flagged my bag for further checking. The agent found the nail. I said it was a souvenir and that, if necessary, he could take it. After a bit more discussion he let me keep it if I made sure I moved it to my checked bag. I agreed.
The flight to Heathrow was about an hour. We picked up another rental car, which Brother expertly drove on the other side of the road. Then it was off to the area where Brother and family lived for three years while he was on foreign assignment for his company. At the time Niece was ages 7-9.
We went first to the school where Niece and her sister attended. This is TASIS, The American School in (Switzerland) in England. The original school was in Switzerland. In the last 20 years this English branch of the school dropped Switzerland from the name but didn't change its acronym.
Though Niece hadn't given them any notice we were coming and it was already late in the day, Mary of the public relations office showed us around. She said part of her job is to hear from alumni, and showing them around and hearing their comments is one way of doing that.
A few buildings have been added in the last 20 years, blending into the existing architecture quite well. We found the rooms where Niece spent 2nd, 3rd, and 4th grades and heard her stories of the things she did, such as being an apple (with worm) in the school Christmas play (no, I don't know the connection).
It was a two hour tour. Niece was happy and delighted to rediscover a part of her childhood.
TASIS seems to be a pretty good place for learning. Niece's elder sister (grades 6-8 while at TASIS) seems to have used her TASIS experience as the inspiration for her rich home school curriculum – her 3 year old loves opera.
From TASIS we drove to the hotel where Brother and family lived during their first month in England while waiting to move into their house. The place was under renovation, so nothing to see. We did find the Fox and Hounds pub near Windsor Great Park where the family ate several times during that month and during the three years they lived there. Alas, I left behind the new cap I had just bought in Cologne. Niece had been given a bag of swag from TASIS which included a cap, which she gave to me.
We drove past the house where they had lived for three years. Not much to see from the car in the evening light.
Our hotel in Chertsey was another over a pub. The room was adequate, though I saw it could use three things – a chair, a bedside lamp, and a towel rack.
We had a leisurely morning at the hotel, sleeping in and enjoying breakfast. We checked out a bit before the designated 11:00. Then we walked the short distance to the train station and took a train to the airport.
After checking bags we faced a decision – whether to eat lunch before security (lots of fine options) or after (options unknown). We ate before, though it seemed we just had breakfast. That turned out to be a good decision – there wasn't much other than duty free shops beyond security.
I had a small problem during the security check. This past Sunday Brother had given me the gift from the Talle pastor and the nail was in my carryon bag. I had completely forgotten it was there. Of course, the x-ray found it and flagged my bag for further checking. The agent found the nail. I said it was a souvenir and that, if necessary, he could take it. After a bit more discussion he let me keep it if I made sure I moved it to my checked bag. I agreed.
The flight to Heathrow was about an hour. We picked up another rental car, which Brother expertly drove on the other side of the road. Then it was off to the area where Brother and family lived for three years while he was on foreign assignment for his company. At the time Niece was ages 7-9.
We went first to the school where Niece and her sister attended. This is TASIS, The American School in (Switzerland) in England. The original school was in Switzerland. In the last 20 years this English branch of the school dropped Switzerland from the name but didn't change its acronym.
Though Niece hadn't given them any notice we were coming and it was already late in the day, Mary of the public relations office showed us around. She said part of her job is to hear from alumni, and showing them around and hearing their comments is one way of doing that.
A few buildings have been added in the last 20 years, blending into the existing architecture quite well. We found the rooms where Niece spent 2nd, 3rd, and 4th grades and heard her stories of the things she did, such as being an apple (with worm) in the school Christmas play (no, I don't know the connection).
It was a two hour tour. Niece was happy and delighted to rediscover a part of her childhood.
TASIS seems to be a pretty good place for learning. Niece's elder sister (grades 6-8 while at TASIS) seems to have used her TASIS experience as the inspiration for her rich home school curriculum – her 3 year old loves opera.
From TASIS we drove to the hotel where Brother and family lived during their first month in England while waiting to move into their house. The place was under renovation, so nothing to see. We did find the Fox and Hounds pub near Windsor Great Park where the family ate several times during that month and during the three years they lived there. Alas, I left behind the new cap I had just bought in Cologne. Niece had been given a bag of swag from TASIS which included a cap, which she gave to me.
We drove past the house where they had lived for three years. Not much to see from the car in the evening light.
Our hotel in Chertsey was another over a pub. The room was adequate, though I saw it could use three things – a chair, a bedside lamp, and a towel rack.
Tuesday, August 20, 2019
Travelogue – This is art?
Wednesday, August 14
In addition to traveling with us Niece is also working on a business project. So this morning she declined our morning jaunt.
Brother and I took the tram to the apartment building I lived in 30 years ago. It is a tall tower near the Rhine River and I had a marvelous view from my 9th floor apartment that included the cathedral. Along the river is a path for walking a bicycling that is lined with trees. This setting was the best thing of my time living here.
We took the tram back downtown and walked past the cathedral …
… and over to the Philharmonie where I attended several concerts a month while living here. I explained that I almost always bought a Stehplatz, a standing place. Once the concert began I could slip into any empty seat. There was only once I actually had to stand, though several times I saw the length of the Stehplatz line and decided not to join it. Brother and I then walked around the building and up onto a plaza. I had lived there for quite a while before I realized that plaza was actually the roof of the concert hall.
We went back to the hotel to collect Niece. Then on to the Altemakt where we had lunch. From there we went to the pedestrian shopping district. Niece decided she wanted to shop for sandals (and was successful) while Brother and I went on to Neumarkt (which, alas, unlike Altemarkt, is a big empty plaza when it isn't Christmas). Brother pointed to a church on the far side of the plaza and said what's that? So we went to investigate. It was the St. Apostles church, built about 1645 and rebuilt after WWII. This is what is above the altar.
After meeting back up with Niece we went to Museum Ludwig, an art museum. We had only an hour to look around. That was more than enough time for Brother – this was modern art of the time around 1900-1950. Signs explained the different threads of art development (dadaism, expressionism, etc.). Brother declared he didn't like any of them. Why did artists stop making art that was beautiful? That got us into a spirited discussion and I offered parallels from the history of music.
When the museum closed we walked along the Rhine for a while, then had supper in the Altstadt, a row of old buildings along the river. We sat inside because it was a bit too chilly for outside.
In addition to traveling with us Niece is also working on a business project. So this morning she declined our morning jaunt.
Brother and I took the tram to the apartment building I lived in 30 years ago. It is a tall tower near the Rhine River and I had a marvelous view from my 9th floor apartment that included the cathedral. Along the river is a path for walking a bicycling that is lined with trees. This setting was the best thing of my time living here.
We took the tram back downtown and walked past the cathedral …
… and over to the Philharmonie where I attended several concerts a month while living here. I explained that I almost always bought a Stehplatz, a standing place. Once the concert began I could slip into any empty seat. There was only once I actually had to stand, though several times I saw the length of the Stehplatz line and decided not to join it. Brother and I then walked around the building and up onto a plaza. I had lived there for quite a while before I realized that plaza was actually the roof of the concert hall.
We went back to the hotel to collect Niece. Then on to the Altemakt where we had lunch. From there we went to the pedestrian shopping district. Niece decided she wanted to shop for sandals (and was successful) while Brother and I went on to Neumarkt (which, alas, unlike Altemarkt, is a big empty plaza when it isn't Christmas). Brother pointed to a church on the far side of the plaza and said what's that? So we went to investigate. It was the St. Apostles church, built about 1645 and rebuilt after WWII. This is what is above the altar.
After meeting back up with Niece we went to Museum Ludwig, an art museum. We had only an hour to look around. That was more than enough time for Brother – this was modern art of the time around 1900-1950. Signs explained the different threads of art development (dadaism, expressionism, etc.). Brother declared he didn't like any of them. Why did artists stop making art that was beautiful? That got us into a spirited discussion and I offered parallels from the history of music.
When the museum closed we walked along the Rhine for a while, then had supper in the Altstadt, a row of old buildings along the river. We sat inside because it was a bit too chilly for outside.
Travelogue – An organ to fill the space
Tuesday, August 13
We decided on a lazy morning, scrapping the plan to visit a farm museum. So we walked around Bad Salzuflen. We hadn't seen much of it yet. As the Bad name implies there is a mineral spring in town and part of the town business is taking the cure.
As part of that the city built huge structures with spring water with lots of minerals dripping through them. Standing near them and breathing that air supposedly has curative properties.
Some of our meanderings were interrupted by areas reserved for those who had paid to be in or near other cure related areas.
Some of the old buildings in the downtown area have large half circles above big doors. This used to allow room for wagons to enter. These buildings usually have a date. In this photo I think the date for the house on the left is 1635.
In our wanderings we saw what looked like a new laudromat being installed. The location is a block from our hotel.
After a light lunch we drove to Cologne. Thirty years ago next month I had moved to Cologne for a two year work assignment. I was last here 22 years ago. So I wanted to see the city again and my travel companions agreed Cologne would be a good place to visit.
Before going to the hotel near the main train station we wanted to return the rental car. It wasn't easy. Google maps (guiding most of our navigation) said to park on the southwest side of the station for the rental office. Parking was not cheap – 3 Euros for a half hour. Once at the Avis desk they gave us a map on how to circle round to the northeast side of the station and their return lot. I'm good with maps (as Brother can attest since I've been serving as navigator) but we ended up in the wrong spot (though not too far out of the way). We parked, unloaded the car, and went back to the Avis desk. I complained that the map showed one thing but I found another, which prompted the wrong turn. The agent studied the map a moment, then said, huh, the map is wrong.
My hotel room here in Cologne is quite small compared to our spacious accommodations of the last few days. There is barely enough room to open the suitcase.
While Brother and Niece rested a bit I wandered the area south of the cathedral. I was looking for a restaurant I enjoyed 30 years ago. I didn't find it, which is unfortunate but not surprising.
I went back to the hotel to get Brother and Niece and we went to a Chinese restaurant near the cathedral (upstairs from the McDonalds). I've been in other Chinese restaurants in Germany and thought the food rather bland. This was quite tasty. And the service was efficient.
Into the cathedral itself. On Tuesdays in the summer the cathedral holds free organ concerts. I attended every one I could when I lived here. So an hour before the concert we went in to get seats. That was good because the place filled up. These are popular concerts. While waiting I walked with Brother and Niece one at a time to see some of the cathedral sights, such as the windows, the Three Kings reliquary (seen from the nave), an amazingly busy alter carving, and just gaze up at the amazingly tall space.
I told them a brief history of the place – work started in the 1200s, the east end (known as the Choir) was finished sometime in the 1300s. Work began at the west end and a crane was created to haul up stone as the south tower was built. About 1520 work stopped. No money. The south tower was about a third of its current height. That crane became a part of the Cologne skyline. For 300 years. Our hotel has a copy of a print made about 10 years after the work stopped and it shows the crane. In 1840 enough people were convinced to raise the money for the cathedral's completion. Old plans were found so the building has the same style throughout (though Niece believes she spotted angels with an Art Deco vibe). Work was completed in 1880. So when I last visited they we celebrating the 700th year of the place, even though it had only been completed 110 years before.
There is scaffolding around several parts of the exterior of the cathedral where stones eaten by pollution are being replaced.
As I walked with Brother around the inside he stopped to light a votive candle. His wife had died three years ago today. We also remembered her at the Maulbronn Monastery a week ago. Brother said it was that day three years before when it seemed her spirit left and it took her body a week to die.
The inside clock chimed eight times. A cathedral representative talked for a bit, saying the guest organist is from Notre Dame in Paris and his program would be entirely of French music. He said more than that but it was all in German.
Then the music began. The first piece was a fanfare with trumpet stops alternating with full organ. It was glorious! The inside is a huge space with a seven second reverberation. And this organ could fill the space. An hour later we agreed this was the highlight of the trip. The rest of the crowd agreed, applauding long enough that we got an encore.
We decided on a lazy morning, scrapping the plan to visit a farm museum. So we walked around Bad Salzuflen. We hadn't seen much of it yet. As the Bad name implies there is a mineral spring in town and part of the town business is taking the cure.
As part of that the city built huge structures with spring water with lots of minerals dripping through them. Standing near them and breathing that air supposedly has curative properties.
Some of our meanderings were interrupted by areas reserved for those who had paid to be in or near other cure related areas.
Some of the old buildings in the downtown area have large half circles above big doors. This used to allow room for wagons to enter. These buildings usually have a date. In this photo I think the date for the house on the left is 1635.
In our wanderings we saw what looked like a new laudromat being installed. The location is a block from our hotel.
After a light lunch we drove to Cologne. Thirty years ago next month I had moved to Cologne for a two year work assignment. I was last here 22 years ago. So I wanted to see the city again and my travel companions agreed Cologne would be a good place to visit.
Before going to the hotel near the main train station we wanted to return the rental car. It wasn't easy. Google maps (guiding most of our navigation) said to park on the southwest side of the station for the rental office. Parking was not cheap – 3 Euros for a half hour. Once at the Avis desk they gave us a map on how to circle round to the northeast side of the station and their return lot. I'm good with maps (as Brother can attest since I've been serving as navigator) but we ended up in the wrong spot (though not too far out of the way). We parked, unloaded the car, and went back to the Avis desk. I complained that the map showed one thing but I found another, which prompted the wrong turn. The agent studied the map a moment, then said, huh, the map is wrong.
My hotel room here in Cologne is quite small compared to our spacious accommodations of the last few days. There is barely enough room to open the suitcase.
While Brother and Niece rested a bit I wandered the area south of the cathedral. I was looking for a restaurant I enjoyed 30 years ago. I didn't find it, which is unfortunate but not surprising.
I went back to the hotel to get Brother and Niece and we went to a Chinese restaurant near the cathedral (upstairs from the McDonalds). I've been in other Chinese restaurants in Germany and thought the food rather bland. This was quite tasty. And the service was efficient.
Into the cathedral itself. On Tuesdays in the summer the cathedral holds free organ concerts. I attended every one I could when I lived here. So an hour before the concert we went in to get seats. That was good because the place filled up. These are popular concerts. While waiting I walked with Brother and Niece one at a time to see some of the cathedral sights, such as the windows, the Three Kings reliquary (seen from the nave), an amazingly busy alter carving, and just gaze up at the amazingly tall space.
I told them a brief history of the place – work started in the 1200s, the east end (known as the Choir) was finished sometime in the 1300s. Work began at the west end and a crane was created to haul up stone as the south tower was built. About 1520 work stopped. No money. The south tower was about a third of its current height. That crane became a part of the Cologne skyline. For 300 years. Our hotel has a copy of a print made about 10 years after the work stopped and it shows the crane. In 1840 enough people were convinced to raise the money for the cathedral's completion. Old plans were found so the building has the same style throughout (though Niece believes she spotted angels with an Art Deco vibe). Work was completed in 1880. So when I last visited they we celebrating the 700th year of the place, even though it had only been completed 110 years before.
There is scaffolding around several parts of the exterior of the cathedral where stones eaten by pollution are being replaced.
As I walked with Brother around the inside he stopped to light a votive candle. His wife had died three years ago today. We also remembered her at the Maulbronn Monastery a week ago. Brother said it was that day three years before when it seemed her spirit left and it took her body a week to die.
The inside clock chimed eight times. A cathedral representative talked for a bit, saying the guest organist is from Notre Dame in Paris and his program would be entirely of French music. He said more than that but it was all in German.
Then the music began. The first piece was a fanfare with trumpet stops alternating with full organ. It was glorious! The inside is a huge space with a seven second reverberation. And this organ could fill the space. An hour later we agreed this was the highlight of the trip. The rest of the crowd agreed, applauding long enough that we got an encore.
Travelogue – Interpreting gravestones
Monday, August 12
We went back to the Talle church to meet with Annette, the church custodian (I think that's her title). She was a delightful women with grown children and only adequate English. Even with communication problems we talked with her for a couple of hours.
The church:
She helped in interpreting and translating a couple of the gravestones we saw yesterday. In particular, she said the stone for Johan Stock says he was from Matdorf, which is now the village of Matorf and is very close by (we had found a modern Matdorf and it isn't close). We wouldn't have known about the name change without her.
The stack of gravestones:
Annette told us about the age of the parts of the church. The tower is about a thousand years old. The front altar area is about 800 years old. The nave was built about 1450. It has been renovated a few times since then, the last time three years ago, so it doesn't look old.
The church is in honor of St. Peter. This image of him is from an earlier version of the church.
I didn't have my camera with me during the church service yesterday. So it is only today that I took a picture of the peace sign I mentioned before.
Annette share some apple and berry dessert bars (Germans call it Kuchen) with us and included real whipped cream. Then she talked a bit about herself and her family.
We took back roads to Bückeburg and its Palace. We had lunch in front of the palace, served by the palace restaurant. Then we had a tour – alas, in German. At least we got to see some really cool rooms, even if we didn't understand the commentary. I decided not to buy the photographer's permit. Brother did. So I don't have photos of the interior, at least not until I have a chance to see what he has.
The admission price also included a view of the stables – with several horses in residence. The palace also runs a horsemanship school. After that we walked around the grounds for a bit. We stopped in the restaurant for a snack before leaving the palace.
We went back to Minden to see the Kaiser Wilhelm Memorial. It wasn't so much to honor the old guy, rather to enjoy the view from the hilltop is memorial is built on. This hill is one part of Porta Westfalica, a gap in a ridge of hills. South of this ridge is a lot of hills. North of the ridge is the North German Plain – it's pretty flat from there to the North Sea coast. This photo is of across the gap
I realized I had lost my hat along the way. Niece assured me I had it when we entered the church in Talle. But it wasn't in the car or on my head. If I'm going to leave my hat behind doing it in my three-great grandfather's church seems appropriate.
We went back to the Talle church to meet with Annette, the church custodian (I think that's her title). She was a delightful women with grown children and only adequate English. Even with communication problems we talked with her for a couple of hours.
The church:
She helped in interpreting and translating a couple of the gravestones we saw yesterday. In particular, she said the stone for Johan Stock says he was from Matdorf, which is now the village of Matorf and is very close by (we had found a modern Matdorf and it isn't close). We wouldn't have known about the name change without her.
The stack of gravestones:
Annette told us about the age of the parts of the church. The tower is about a thousand years old. The front altar area is about 800 years old. The nave was built about 1450. It has been renovated a few times since then, the last time three years ago, so it doesn't look old.
The church is in honor of St. Peter. This image of him is from an earlier version of the church.
I didn't have my camera with me during the church service yesterday. So it is only today that I took a picture of the peace sign I mentioned before.
Annette share some apple and berry dessert bars (Germans call it Kuchen) with us and included real whipped cream. Then she talked a bit about herself and her family.
We took back roads to Bückeburg and its Palace. We had lunch in front of the palace, served by the palace restaurant. Then we had a tour – alas, in German. At least we got to see some really cool rooms, even if we didn't understand the commentary. I decided not to buy the photographer's permit. Brother did. So I don't have photos of the interior, at least not until I have a chance to see what he has.
The admission price also included a view of the stables – with several horses in residence. The palace also runs a horsemanship school. After that we walked around the grounds for a bit. We stopped in the restaurant for a snack before leaving the palace.
We went back to Minden to see the Kaiser Wilhelm Memorial. It wasn't so much to honor the old guy, rather to enjoy the view from the hilltop is memorial is built on. This hill is one part of Porta Westfalica, a gap in a ridge of hills. South of this ridge is a lot of hills. North of the ridge is the North German Plain – it's pretty flat from there to the North Sea coast. This photo is of across the gap
I realized I had lost my hat along the way. Niece assured me I had it when we entered the church in Talle. But it wasn't in the car or on my head. If I'm going to leave my hat behind doing it in my three-great grandfather's church seems appropriate.
Travelogue – a response to “glorious war”
Sunday, August 11
Back on the ancestral trail, this time of our north German ancestors. In the morning we went through Kirchheide to Talle. Our ancestors are from Kirchheide, but the only church for that and another three villages is Talle. So our ancestors would have attended services there.
We are now in the Lippe district of Westphalia. Three-great grandfather Friedrich “Fritz” Stock left this area in May of 1848. We've been reading about the 1848 German uprising and wonder how this included Fritz. I'll leave out his complicated history in America. He and his wife and four children returned to Kirchheide in 1861 when his father became ill. Eight years and two more children later the family returned to America.
We know the names of Fritz's parents – Konrad Barend Stock and Anna Sophie Louise Rehmjohann
– but nothing else. We suspect the family had been in the area for a few generations.
This morning we attended the church service in Talle. Brother wanted to do this both because of the family connection and because parts of the building are a thousand years old. (Surprised by that? Some cathedrals are older.) Brother had attended here before and had met Annette, the woman who works as custodian (I think that's her job). Brother had traded emails with Annette. She would meet with us tomorrow.
The pastor greeted us before the service. The service was, of course, in German. We sang along in the hymns and songs and otherwise sat there. To our surprise during the announcement time the pastor introduced us and had a small gift for us – a hand-drawn image of the church with a nail that was removed in the renovation three years ago (so the church doesn't look its age). That part he said in English.
After the service and after the other parishioners left the pastor talked to us for close to a half hour. This is a paraphrase of some of what he said:
All the gravestones in a cemetery look and are new because a person only rents the plot (which I mentioned) for 30 years (which we learned). If the family has moved away and doesn't pay for another 30 years then the grave is removed and the space is given to someone else. The church members don't want to pay for the upkeep of graves of people whose families won't take care of it themselves.
The current town cemetery is not at the church. Which is one reason why there are a lot of old gravestones around this church. When the renovation was done three years ago many of these old stones were stacked up in the back of the yard. Others around the property perimeter are now hidden by vines and shrubs. Eventually, these old stones will be set upright again.
On one side of the entry way is a memorial to those who died in the “glorious war” of 1870 (Franco-Prussian War). The pastor says war is never “glorious.” They debated whether to paint over that one word. They decided instead to hang a big metal plaque on the wall opposite of the memorial. This has the word “Peace” in a variety of languages. The sign is there on the floor. It will be placed on the wall in September.
That war memorial includes a Friedrich Stock, but this one was born in 1849. I don't know if he might be related.
I think the hanging of the peace sign is related to a joint service this congregation will do with a Polish congregation. I think the joint service will be done over Skype.
This area was spared devastation during WWII. The big cities around it – Minden and Bielefeld – were bombed, but the Talle region remained untouched. However, they did experience coping with refugees. Because of that they have a heart for the refugees from the Middle East whose presence is otherwise stirring up nationalist sentiments.
Once the pastor said goodbye we, of course, had to investigate these old stones. Much to our delight one of them at the top of the stacks was a stone for Johann Stock born in 1685. This is about four generations before the line we know about. So we don't know if he's an ancestor.
From Talle we drove to Minden. This is a city, not a tiny village, and we have ancestors from here. Christian Seele (the name means “soul”) was born in Minden in 1817 and was married in 1841. Their son Heinrich was born in 1844 and was baptized in Todtenhausen. This is a district just north of Minden (now essentially a suburb), so we're not sure when a record says “Minden” whether they mean Todtenhausen. Christian, wife, and two sons came to America in 1845.
We first had lunch. Then we toured the St. Marien Church. That's the church name on Heinrich's baptism record, but there is no current church by that name in Todtenhausen today. We didn't stay long inside (it looked like a family was gathering for a baptism), though we did see the Seele name on a war memorial.
On to a walk into the downtown area, then over to the Minden Cathedral, which is Catholic. It was founded in the 800s with the current building from the 1300s. It's in pretty good shape having been bombed in WWII.
Minden has a curious water feature – a bridge to carry a canal over the Weser River. I don't know why the canal and river are not at the same level. Perhaps the canal, which goes east-west, comes from foothills on one side of the river into foothills on the other? I'd have to get an online map (and do so on a faster computer) to see where the canal comes and goes.
We drove around Todtenhausen and Brother took us to a church with the Seele name on war memorials. We have no idea if this one is where ancestors attended.
On to Christian's wife – she was Charlotte Saxowski. Yes, a Polish name, though she wasn't born in Poland. She was born in the village of Lahde, a few kilometers north of Todtenhausen, in 1812. Charlotte's father, Anton Deiedrich Saxowski was born in Lahde. All we know of her mother, Johanna Friederike Schumacher, is the name.
When arriving in Lahde from the west one passes a gas station with the Saxowski brand. It is (or was) owned by Wilhelm Saxowski. We don't know if he's related. Niece was bold enough to ask the attendant whether she personally knew anyone with the Saxowski name. She didn't.
We wandered around the church and took pictures of the nearby windmill.
This was halfway through the trip, so time for laundry. I had asked the hotel desk clerk what facilities were in town. She said the hotel could do the laundry, but agreed that for a week's worth it would be expensive. As for the town, she couldn't find anything. The closest would be in Bielefeld, a 23 minute drive away. Since I had to wash everything I changed into my bathing suit and pajama top with a sweater over that. I let one pair of socks stay dirty. Brother also brought a load with a few contributions from Niece.
We found the laundromat with little difficulty and loaded a couple machines. And now we were getting hungry. We didn't pause for supper because restaurant meals could take so long. Brother pulled out his phone and saw the only nearby food was a couple Greek restaurants. With hopes of a couple gyros he headed out. Alas, one was closed because it was Sunday and the other closed because the owner was on summer holiday.
Fortunately, Brother had brought along a couple bananas. We ate them.
We got back to Bad Salzuflen at about 10:00. Niece, who had stayed behind, said supper sounded like a good idea. I decided I was too sleepy to venture out and relied on peanut butter. Brother later reported that he and Niece didn't find anything in the hotel or nearby that was open at 10:00 on a Sunday evening. They had a couple more bananas and a small can of Pringles before bed.
Back on the ancestral trail, this time of our north German ancestors. In the morning we went through Kirchheide to Talle. Our ancestors are from Kirchheide, but the only church for that and another three villages is Talle. So our ancestors would have attended services there.
We are now in the Lippe district of Westphalia. Three-great grandfather Friedrich “Fritz” Stock left this area in May of 1848. We've been reading about the 1848 German uprising and wonder how this included Fritz. I'll leave out his complicated history in America. He and his wife and four children returned to Kirchheide in 1861 when his father became ill. Eight years and two more children later the family returned to America.
We know the names of Fritz's parents – Konrad Barend Stock and Anna Sophie Louise Rehmjohann
– but nothing else. We suspect the family had been in the area for a few generations.
This morning we attended the church service in Talle. Brother wanted to do this both because of the family connection and because parts of the building are a thousand years old. (Surprised by that? Some cathedrals are older.) Brother had attended here before and had met Annette, the woman who works as custodian (I think that's her job). Brother had traded emails with Annette. She would meet with us tomorrow.
The pastor greeted us before the service. The service was, of course, in German. We sang along in the hymns and songs and otherwise sat there. To our surprise during the announcement time the pastor introduced us and had a small gift for us – a hand-drawn image of the church with a nail that was removed in the renovation three years ago (so the church doesn't look its age). That part he said in English.
After the service and after the other parishioners left the pastor talked to us for close to a half hour. This is a paraphrase of some of what he said:
All the gravestones in a cemetery look and are new because a person only rents the plot (which I mentioned) for 30 years (which we learned). If the family has moved away and doesn't pay for another 30 years then the grave is removed and the space is given to someone else. The church members don't want to pay for the upkeep of graves of people whose families won't take care of it themselves.
The current town cemetery is not at the church. Which is one reason why there are a lot of old gravestones around this church. When the renovation was done three years ago many of these old stones were stacked up in the back of the yard. Others around the property perimeter are now hidden by vines and shrubs. Eventually, these old stones will be set upright again.
On one side of the entry way is a memorial to those who died in the “glorious war” of 1870 (Franco-Prussian War). The pastor says war is never “glorious.” They debated whether to paint over that one word. They decided instead to hang a big metal plaque on the wall opposite of the memorial. This has the word “Peace” in a variety of languages. The sign is there on the floor. It will be placed on the wall in September.
That war memorial includes a Friedrich Stock, but this one was born in 1849. I don't know if he might be related.
I think the hanging of the peace sign is related to a joint service this congregation will do with a Polish congregation. I think the joint service will be done over Skype.
This area was spared devastation during WWII. The big cities around it – Minden and Bielefeld – were bombed, but the Talle region remained untouched. However, they did experience coping with refugees. Because of that they have a heart for the refugees from the Middle East whose presence is otherwise stirring up nationalist sentiments.
Once the pastor said goodbye we, of course, had to investigate these old stones. Much to our delight one of them at the top of the stacks was a stone for Johann Stock born in 1685. This is about four generations before the line we know about. So we don't know if he's an ancestor.
From Talle we drove to Minden. This is a city, not a tiny village, and we have ancestors from here. Christian Seele (the name means “soul”) was born in Minden in 1817 and was married in 1841. Their son Heinrich was born in 1844 and was baptized in Todtenhausen. This is a district just north of Minden (now essentially a suburb), so we're not sure when a record says “Minden” whether they mean Todtenhausen. Christian, wife, and two sons came to America in 1845.
We first had lunch. Then we toured the St. Marien Church. That's the church name on Heinrich's baptism record, but there is no current church by that name in Todtenhausen today. We didn't stay long inside (it looked like a family was gathering for a baptism), though we did see the Seele name on a war memorial.
On to a walk into the downtown area, then over to the Minden Cathedral, which is Catholic. It was founded in the 800s with the current building from the 1300s. It's in pretty good shape having been bombed in WWII.
Minden has a curious water feature – a bridge to carry a canal over the Weser River. I don't know why the canal and river are not at the same level. Perhaps the canal, which goes east-west, comes from foothills on one side of the river into foothills on the other? I'd have to get an online map (and do so on a faster computer) to see where the canal comes and goes.
We drove around Todtenhausen and Brother took us to a church with the Seele name on war memorials. We have no idea if this one is where ancestors attended.
On to Christian's wife – she was Charlotte Saxowski. Yes, a Polish name, though she wasn't born in Poland. She was born in the village of Lahde, a few kilometers north of Todtenhausen, in 1812. Charlotte's father, Anton Deiedrich Saxowski was born in Lahde. All we know of her mother, Johanna Friederike Schumacher, is the name.
When arriving in Lahde from the west one passes a gas station with the Saxowski brand. It is (or was) owned by Wilhelm Saxowski. We don't know if he's related. Niece was bold enough to ask the attendant whether she personally knew anyone with the Saxowski name. She didn't.
We wandered around the church and took pictures of the nearby windmill.
This was halfway through the trip, so time for laundry. I had asked the hotel desk clerk what facilities were in town. She said the hotel could do the laundry, but agreed that for a week's worth it would be expensive. As for the town, she couldn't find anything. The closest would be in Bielefeld, a 23 minute drive away. Since I had to wash everything I changed into my bathing suit and pajama top with a sweater over that. I let one pair of socks stay dirty. Brother also brought a load with a few contributions from Niece.
We found the laundromat with little difficulty and loaded a couple machines. And now we were getting hungry. We didn't pause for supper because restaurant meals could take so long. Brother pulled out his phone and saw the only nearby food was a couple Greek restaurants. With hopes of a couple gyros he headed out. Alas, one was closed because it was Sunday and the other closed because the owner was on summer holiday.
Fortunately, Brother had brought along a couple bananas. We ate them.
We got back to Bad Salzuflen at about 10:00. Niece, who had stayed behind, said supper sounded like a good idea. I decided I was too sleepy to venture out and relied on peanut butter. Brother later reported that he and Niece didn't find anything in the hotel or nearby that was open at 10:00 on a Sunday evening. They had a couple more bananas and a small can of Pringles before bed.
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