T̶w̶o̶ One p̶e̶r̶p̶e̶t̶u̶a̶l̶ ̶e̶x̶p̶a̶t̶s̶ immigrant settling into home country number five.
Julie 
A short time ago, children all over Bavaria headed back to school for the fall term. Some of them (specifically, the first graders) were carrying unwieldy cardboard cones that were almost as big as the children themselves. I asked my friend eNVie, who recently made a Schultüte (literally: “school cone”) herself, to explain what these things are all about. Parents in Germany, take note. Here’s what she has to say:
Read moreGuest post: back to school with the German Schultüte
Alaaf! This year’s WEBMU (Whiny Expat Blogger Meet-Up) took place in Cologne. Our hosts Resident Evil on Earth, Cheap as Chips, and Futile Diatribes did an excellent job of putting together a fun-filled agenda for all of us.
Last night we decided to be true to our American roots and got creative with a pumpkin. When I first moved to Europe in the 90s, Halloween-style pumpkins were nowhere to be found, but this year we were able to pick up one at our local farmers market for only €3 (it was even labeled as a “Halloween-Kürbis”).
We just returned from a weekend of cavorting with other expat bloggers in Cologne. More about WEBMU is coming up in a future post; right now I want to show you a ridiculous number of photos from our rooftop tour of the cathedral, one of the highlights of the weekend.
Cologne’s cathedral (Dom in German) is the city’s big recognizable landmark. It is Gothic and old, and definitely worth exploring from as many angles as possible.
The tour started with a walk along a narrow balcony that snaked its way around the interior of the church from about half-way up.
On our recent trip to Innsbruck I had the pleasure of meeting Elena Paschinger of Kreativ Reisen Österreich (Creative Tourism Austria). As an artist and avid traveler, i was excited to learn more about creative tourism. I thought several of my readers would, too, so I asked Elena to answer some questions for us.
I have a mountain of blog posts in the works that will be coming up soon now that we’re all recovered from Oktoberfest and our month of visitors. Life in Munich is back to normal, still with plenty going on (Auer Dult, for example) but fewer drunk people in lederhosen.
Last night was the Lange Nacht der Museen, when all kinds of museums and galleries offer special programming and stay open until 2am. This year’s event had two highlights for me, both distinctly German.
Highlight #1: The Potato Museum
Oktoberfest ended on Monday, and we made it all the way to the end (quite literally, as we were in the Armbrustschützenzelt finishing our last maß of beer as the staff started washing down the tables for the last time).
You may have heard that you need to be sitting inside (or on the terrace of) a tent to be served beer at Oktoberfest. This is mostly true. Indeed, it is the only way you’ll be able to get your hands on a big old maß (liter) of special Oktoberfest brew. But if you don’t mind drinking weißbier (wheat beer) in small vessels (only half liter), head for one of the many outdoor stands that serve it up. You’ll need to drink your weißbier in the general vicinity of where you bought it, but these little areas are often quite pleasant places to hang out. I tend to prefer them to the hot, loud, sweaty insides of a tent, especially on a beautiful sunny day.
We (along with most everyone else in Munich) are hosting a lot of house guests these days. Seems like as good a time as any to add to my breakfast-making repertoire. Plus, I like to make up recipes. Our most recent guests (the delightful Redenii) inspired this experiment with their love of German pretzels. We had a few left over one day, and I was trying to figure out what to do with them before they went stale. At the same time, I was thinking about the next day’s breakfast, which was possibly going to be french toast. You can probably figure out where this is going.
This is our fourth Oktoberfest as locals. Since leaving my parents’ house at 18, I’ve never lived anywhere else for more than three years, so this is kind of weird for me. I’m not used to doing things for a fourth time.
But here I am, getting out the dirndl (paired with sensible shoes for dancing on wooden benches) for Oktoberfest number four. Conversations with friends all include an exchange of details about which tents we will be in on which nights. The guest room is booked for almost a month straight with various configurations of friends and family.