The weather is still pretty decent here, with the sun peaking its shining face through the clouds for a couple hours every other day. And, if you happen to be outside enjoying the crisp autumn air when the sun is shining, the oranges, yellows, and reds of the trees sort of pop out against the blue background, demanding to be appreciated and begging to have their photo taken.
The days here are getting shorter. I’m at work for almost 45 minutes before the sun finally decides to get its ass out of bed and light up my life. Coffee is becoming a necessity. So is prozac.
But, for all those blind and numb Germans out there who couldn’t possibly tell through sight or feel alone that the seasons are changing, there is also, thankfully, a set of very German culinary seasons, which promote the produce of the season.
For instance, in the typically not-so-subtle German way, roadstands have a way of popping up on the street, selling the seasonal goodies. For instance, in the warming months, there’s a succession of asparagus season, strawberry season, and cherry season. Then, in the cooling months, there’s apple season, mushroom season, and hefeweizen season. Unfortunately, hefeweizen season is atypical, as there are probably not many “drive-through” hefeweizen stands on the side of the road. But it is certainly a season, as this year’s ale is promoted universally (and ubiquitously) throughout the country.
Despite the chilly weather and lures of the autumn kitchen, Kate and I are still keeping up with some of our extracurricular activities. Kate has been playing water polo with large, German, speedo-wearing men on Tuesdays and Thursdays. And I plan to keep attending a German conversation course on Wednesdays and a volleyball club on Thursdays. We also have been enjoying our running club, the Frankfurt Hash House Harriers, every Sunday. In fact, a couple weeks ago, we were subjects to a naming ritual, which occurs when you’ve been with the group on so many runs that they decide you get to have your own special name. Usually, this name is suggestive in nature, but not too dirrrrrrrrty. For instance, several men in the group have names like this: an adjective describing a bunny rabbit followed by the word “balls.”
Yes, this naming ceremony is a hoot. Fun for kids of all ages. But, it’s the most fun for people like Kate and I who are lucky enough to actually receive those funny names. Why? Because those who get named are fortunate enough to have handfuls of flour flung at them while cold beer is being poured down their bodies. This creates a sticky, smelly, yeasty mess – which, in some cases, are the exact adjectives used before balls.
Thankfully, our names are innocuous and do not include the word “balls.” They are, however, nonsensical.
What are our names, you ask?
Me: Big Squeeze
Kate: The Flesh Test Dummy
We’re thinking the aforementioned “mushroom” season must have meant magic mushrooms to some people in the group.
Next blog: Paris and le Frogs
3 comments:
Looks like fun, I think.
I eagerly await the Paris entry. I, for one, am none too fond of the frogs. Therefore, can't wait to hear your impressions. The naming looked cute and Kate had explained to my why you, Justin, were the only one in the crowd stripped down to your BVD's. Possibly you want to address that to others, who may be wondering. DC MOM
Forgot to mention...that's a great opening picture of you Justin.
Love DC MOM
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