Lüneburg

We've been laying low for a few days, staying close to home, as it's been rainy and windy outside. I was looking through my photos thus far, and found a few that I haven’t mentioned yet.

Here's a photo of the Hanseatic town of Lüneburg, southeast of Hamburg. I find these old Hanse towns so pretty that it was worth it to me to read three whole books on the Hanseatic League before we came. This is how I learned that Lübeck has herring to thank for its early wealth, and that Lüneburg provided the salt to preserve it with. 

The story behind the Hanseatic salt trade is that a hunter near Lüneburg shot a wild boar that he saw bathing in a puddle. After hanging up its hide to dry, he found salt crystals in the bristles, and went to take a closer look at that puddle, as salt was hard to come by and very valuable. The result was a rich trade between Lüneberg and Lübeck, along what became the Old Salt Road. The wagon trip to Lübeck took about 20 days, past forests, heath bogs, and small villages, with occasional surprises from the usual thieves and marauders who seemed to be lurking everywhere back in those days. 

Here's a detail from a Lüneburg fountain . . 

another street view . . . 

. . . and some cute bird feeders for sale in front of a hardware store, which made me think of our friends back in northern Minnesota, for some reason. 

Mews

We're enjoying a few days of staying "home” before our next outing, which will be either to a small town in Poland to visit Gary's relatives, or to Hamburg for the flea market, depending on the weather. 

One nice thing about having a place to live while you're traveling is that you're not kicked out on the street with your suitcase every morning, like you are when you're constantly moving from place to place. With a home to call our own, our life has gotten a bit routine, in a "let's go for a walk again today, in a beautiful city full of ancient surprises" kind of way. Not a bad life. 

Some of the most interesting things in Lübeck are the mews, or courtyards, built between larger buildings. We discover new ones on each walk we take. Some are reached by tunnels so short that you have to bend over to walk through them, and some are gated and locked, but most are open. Some provide a secret way to cut through to the next strasse without going around the block, others are sweet dead ends. 

The purpose of these little courtyards was a money-making scheme by landlords in the 1600s, to develop the space between houses as the population boomed. There used to be 190 of these courtyards, and 90 still exist in Lübeck's innenstadt. The tiny buildings inside the tunnels and arches used to be booths for artisans as well as widows' homes, but now they seem to be mostly housing. Today we discovered one that contains a print shop and a little cafe with a courtyard. We have to imagine what they must look like in summertime, with all the flowers blooming. 

We're also checking out the cathedrals we come upon as we walk. Some were bombed in WWII and have very spartan interiors. The ones that were left undamaged are dripping with artwork. 

It's warm enough outside (high 30s F) that some of the cafes have outdoor seating, with propane heaters between the tables. We stopped at one for apfel kuchen and tee yesterday. 

A day-trip to Schleswig

Yesterday we got up early and took a 2 1/2 hour train trip to Schleswig, located mid-way up the Jutland Peninsula, just south of Denmark. Schleswig has a fascinating history, having been the location of the largest marketplace between Scandinavia and northern Europe from around 800 to 1066 (the year of the Battle of Hastings, after which historians say Medieval Europe began). At that point, this Viking settlement — called Hedeby — was destroyed, and Schleswig became the new city at this location. 

Before I continue, I have a confession: except for the first photo, I'm using stock photos in this post, because they’re better than the ones I took, but I swear, everything we saw looks exactly like these photos.

Our goals for Schleswig were to see Gottorf Castle, St. Peter’s Cathedral, the fishing village of Holm, and the museum at Hedeby, which we should have known was far, far too much to fit into one day. We ended spending most of our time at Gottorf Castle, and had just enough time for a quick peek into St. Peter’s before it started to get dark and it was time to head back home. Lesson learned, we hope. 

Gottorf Castle was built in the late 1600s, although the estate itself began in 1161. It’s located on an island in the Schlei fjord -- not at all like the majestic fjords of Norway (it’s much lower terrain in this area, so the fjord looks more like a Minnesota lake). The castle was home to various local dukes and counts for a while, until they were overthrown in the late 1700s and the estate became part of Danish crown land. In 1864 it was annexed to Prussia, and now resides in the German state of Schleswig-Holstein. 

Gottorf Castle looks more like a barracks (which it was, in fact, in the late 1800s) than a castle, but is nevertheless very grand. It now houses an excellent art museum and an archeology museum. 

Our favorite things at the castle were the reconstructed rooms from Medieval northern Europe (including a wine stube from Lübeck!), a huge Viking boat called the Nydam Båden, which was discovered in a swamp in Nydam and restored, and the “moor people”: mummies from the moors. 

This is a photo of Windeby, a man who lived in the moors around the 1st century, A.D. It's uncertain why he was blindfolded, but despite earlier theories of a violent end via sacrifice,  scientists have concluded that Windeby had been quite sick during his lifetime, and may have died of natural causes. One German scholar suggests that he may have been blindfolded at burial "to protect the living from the gaze of the dead."










Unfortunately, while looking at all these fascinating things, we failed Rule #1 of museums — Do Not Attempt To Look At Everything — and by mid-afternoon we had run out of time and energy. 

We did manage to walk into the town of Schleswig just before it closed (yes, the entire old town apparently closed at 4:00 sharp), and got a far-too-quick glimpse inside St. Peter’s Cathedral. 

Besides seeing its carvings and artwork, I wanted to visit this particular church after reading its history. In 1134, the Danish King Niels found himself in enemy territory near Schleswig, and despite the danger, he went for a walk, remarking as he went out the door,“Should I fear tanners and shoemakers?" It turns out he should have, because the townspeople killed him, beheaded him, and threw his body into the fjord. It was later pulled out by fishermen in their nets, and laid out in St. Peter’s Cathedral. 

The monks who attended the corpse claimed they heard strange noises, and believed that the spirit of King Niels wandered about in the church. So they moved his body to Gottorp, and buried it in the bog.

King Niels of Denmark

Just to make sure Niels stayed put, someone hammered a stake through his heart. Niels, I gather, was not a well-loved man. As far as I know, his body is still there, but local legend says he still hunts the bogs at night, with his hounds. 

With a history like that, Schleswig deserves a second look. I hope we'll have time to go back. 

A wild boar, and kuchen

We're back in Lübeck to recover from the holidays, but before I move on I wanted to share a couple more photos from Georg's farm. 

The speck you see to the right of the hunting stand here in the farm field is a WILD BOAR! No lie! We were just walking along, and this wild boar came running across the field! I nearly dropped my camera, it was so fun to see him. Unfortunately I didn't have a time to zoom in, but there he is, at any rate, running away from us as fast as his stubby legs could carry him. In the foreground, you can see his handiwork, looking for grubs and truffles. I'm probably kidding about the truffles. 






















Later that afternoon, Maria invited us over for kuchen and kaffee. I got a few more photos of the inside of the house -- first the entry room from a different angle:

And my perspective from the sofa in the sitting room where we had our kaffee und tee:

Along with the beverages, Maria served the Berliners that the group had forgotten to eat the night before. A short while later, she brought out a platter of two kinds of kuchen: one nut, and one plum, and offered whipped cream for each, which we naturally accepted. A bit later, a tray of pfeffernuss cookies and stollen, followed by candy. And, for dessert, more candy. How happy were we?

On our way out the door, we passed this collection of hand-carved canes:

The next morning, we said Bis Bald to Angie, Georg, Maria, and their security guard, before heading back to the train station. 

More House/Barn

Next, we were shown the upper level of the house, and the barn itself. 

Up these stairs in the center of the house is a large open room, with bedrooms leading directly off from it, like spokes:

Two of the bedrooms are reached by a small stairway leading down into them . . .

... and the stairway in the middle of the central hall, leading up, goes to a room where they used to smoke and cure hams and sausages, of all things! 

Here we are, looking as happy as we feel, in Maria's room, which doubles as a sitting room and bedroom.

Next to Maria's room, a little door leads directly to the barn attic, which looks enticingly explorable.

Back downstairs, we passed the red bathroom  . . .

And through a door into the barn:

They sometimes open the doors on the far end and have parties in here. The thing hanging from the ceiling is a harvest shrine, a crown decorated with straw to celebrate a good harvest.

Back in the early 1950s, when Georg and Maria were growing up here, family farms were diverse, just like they were in the U.S. before specialization arrived. This farm had about 20 cows, 6 working horses (with unpleasant personalities, according to Georg, and I suppose we'd all have unpleasant personalities too, if we were working horses), 50 pigs, 20 ducks, 20 chickens, 3 or 4 turkeys, a handful of geese (there are baskets of blown-out goose eggs all around inside the house), 2 or 3 dogs (wire-haired German pointers for hunting, and German Shepherds for shepherding and security), a few cats, 2 to 6 sheep, 3 tractors, a combine, and a male goat who was responsible for the romantic life of the female goats around the village and adjoining farms. They also had a beekeeper who would bring 30-50 skeps each summer and stay with them. The farm also raised wheat, barley, rye, potatoes and sugar beets. In other words, this barn saw a lot of action, and not all that long ago.

In early days, the family would have cooked and sat right in the barn with the animals, something like this (although this isn't the original kitchen, Maria is explaining):

This is a hunting wagon. The back seat flips forward to hold animal carcasses, kind of like an early pick-up truck:

And here is the barn's technical equipment storage room:

And lastly, the business entrance to the barn. I think it was very progressive of them to include the women's names, too, and not just the men's. 

Thanks for coming along!

The House/Barn

The "barn" end

I promised a tour of the “big house” at Georg’s farm, and here it is. 

The "house" end

No one knows the exact year that they started building this magnificent place, but it was sometime in the 1700s. As each farming couple reached retirement age, they would move to a different house on the farm, and leave this big one to the working couple (which was Georg and Maria's parents by the late 1940s). There were also anywhere from 5 to 15 hired hands, living in various buildings on the farm. 

Inside the house, the rooms are arranged like this, more or less (mostly less — I never did quite figure out how the rooms fit together). There are no hallways between rooms except in the middle part of the living area, where there is a stairway going upstairs, and a hall back to the barn door. You can also access the barn by a door from the upstairs (which leads to the barn attic). 

In the original house, the cooking area actually was in the barn, right with the animals, to conserve warmth for every being involved. But in more recent times, the kitchen has been inside the “people” half of the building. 

Here is Maria, showing Gary into the front door, which has a holly shrub next to it (the holly shrubs here always make me feel I'm in a special place, which is true). 

When you walk in this door, you are standing in this room:

And then you walk into this room:

And then this one:

And this, which leads to the porch.

And then you are on the porch:

And then you go back through a somewhat modern kitchen (which I didn't get a photo of) to one of my favorite rooms, the bauernzimmer (farmer's room), where Maria said the family used to spend most of its time together:

On a table in this room is a collection of Delft tiles, one of my favorite things:

Georg and Maria’s mother is the one responsible for decorating the rooms, and they’ve been left as she had them when she passed away a few years ago. She was an artist, and there must be hundreds of her paintings throughout the house, as well as other art and collections. 

I hope the photos are showing how completely delightful this house is: each room has its own color scheme, and the collections of things she chose to decorate the tables and windowsills are funky and fun. The views out each window into this garden or that one are so beautiful, even in winter, I can't even imagine how wonderful it must be in summer (one window, Maria said, has a magnolia tree outside it). The whole place feels like a magical rabbit warren. If it were mine, the Scandinavian in me might long to wipe a tabletop clean, but that would be very wrong. 

One last photo for this post -- the green bath, complete with chandelier: 

Next post: the upstairs and the barn!

Sylvester

A scene from Dinner For One

Today is January 2nd, and we just arrived back in Lübeck, after celebrating Sylvester (New Year's Eve) at the farm of a friend, Georg, and his partner, Angie. 

We got to Georg's farm on New Years Eve, just in time to watch "Dinner for One," about a rich old woman and her butler. This short TV show is repeatedly shown on German television on New Years Eve, and for some odd reason it's become a Sylvester tradition. I recommend watching it on YouTube, as it's very funny!

After "Dinner for One," we had gluhwein (which Angie makes with wine and black tea, to lessen the alcohol) around a small fire on the patio, with Georg & Angie's friends and their congenial wire-haired dachshund puppy, Emil. Emil (also called Email) was more than mere decoration: he's being trained to hunt foxes and badgers. 

Hunting is big on Georg's farm, where deer and wild boar are surprisingly plentiful. Emil's owner, Henrick, is a hunter and a chef, and during the course of the evening, he served up excellent, tender wild boar and deer for us. He also served liver, which, they told us, is a rare treat, as only the hunter gets to keep the liver. I'm not a big liver fan, but it was sehr good! 

In addition to the wild game, we had raclette for our Sylvester meal: we were all given a tiny frying pan, into which we could load mushrooms, grape tomatoes, mini potatoes, garlic, and/or onions, as we wished. We topped this with raclette cheese and broiled it in an electric raclette heater in the middle of the table. It was my first time having raclette, and I loved it, so be prepared to have raclette next time you come to Raspberry Island. For dessert: a raclette pan full of pineapple, garlic, a little white wine, and gorgonzola cheese. Excellent!

At midnight, we went outside to shoot off fireworks and take turns shooting Georg's shotgun over the rooftop of the farmhouse. All around us in the countryside, we could hear fireworks being set off. 

When the shooting was done, we returned to the table, where over the next two hours we we ate chocolate mousse, drank grappa and whiskey, and had a selection of local cheeses. It was, by then, about 2:00 a.m., with no sign that the party was ending any time soon. I really, really needed to get to bed, so I stood up and announced that, in Amerika, at midnight on New Years Eve we say, "Happy New Year!" and then we go to bed -- and I went to bed! The others stayed up until half past 3, and they would have had yet another course of food: a tray of Berliners (which we call Bismarks), if they hadn’t forgotten about them, which is no surprise, given the varieties of liquor being consumed that night. 

It was an excellent start to 2015. Around 10:00 a.m.on New Years Day morning, we all were back at the table — in various stages of health — enjoying a früstück of brötchen, cheeses, and smoked trout.

Georg has co-owned this large northern German farm with his two sisters since their mother passed away a couple of years ago. Their ancestors began farming here in 1248 (a mere couple hundred years before Christopher Columbus was a gleam in his father's eye) and it's been in their family ever since. The farm sits on 320 acres of land, about a third which is forested, with a large 1700-era barn/farmhouse building, Georg’s house built in the early 1900s, and a collection of old brick timber-frame outbuildings. 

To me, some of the most mysterious buildings in Germany are the huge farmhouses with barns attached. At Georg's farm, his sister Maria is currently the occupant of their farmhouse/barn, and she was kind enough to give us a grand tour, and I do mean grand. It was such fun to see what was inside one of these homes. I'll show the inside of this house in my next post. 

Happy 2015!