Guten tag!

After a debilitating two days of gastronomical distress I am more than ecstatic to announce that I am back to my normal, gluttonous self.  Woo!  Two days of fearfully munching on bland crackers and obtaining a meager caloric intake from the honey I added to my many cups of chamomile tea, really put my life in perspective.  I became a listless, defeated shadow of myself.  I was saddened and nauseated by the thought of food.  I became borderline depressed, thinking about all the beer I should have been drinking and all the spätzle I should have been eating.  It was one of the darkest times of my life, being in a foreign country (Germany) and not being able to eat anything.

Gladly, those times have passed and I’ve more than made up for it by consuming everything in my field of vision for the past two days.  This has included a day of amusement park food at Europa Park, a fantastic amount of bretzles, a shnitzleburger, loads of candy, chocolate, homemade meals, and delicious german yogurt and juice.  Yes, Germany has really delicious juice.  I declare it my favorite.  However, my consumption of beer has been less than satisfactory and I have yet to try a multitude of baked goods.  Luckily, we have yet another week in Dusseldorf (for which we are departing tomorrow from Pfungstadt – where we are staying now with my family) to fatten ourselves on German cuisine.

Other than that, I haven’t much to share except the customary photographs and a few pieces of factual information.

The area in and around Pfungstadt features many asparagus farms.  Asparagus is a very temperamental spring vegetable and can only grow in certain circumstances.  It seems to be that these circumstances occur here.

Pfungstadt makes its own beer: Pfungstadter.  It is delicious and is only made in Pfungstadt.

Every house is unique.

There is lots of flat, green land.  Which is periodically interrupted by not so flat green land.

Their “system” works better than our system.  At least it seems so to me considering no one goes hungry or homeless unless they choose to.

Despite it’s best efforts, Europa Park cannot compete with an American amusement park (such as Six Flags) in respect to roller coaster intensity.  Aesthetically wise, definitely.  Europe is just prettier.

Everything important in Pfungstadt is walking distance: school, restaurant, hair dresser, fire department, main street, etc.  This makes more sense to me than having to drive everywhere.  Ahem, suburban America, ahem.

There is graffiti everywhere.  It seems to be the chosen form of catharsis for angst afflicted teens.

If you are an employed woman, and become pregnant, you may take up to three years of paid maternity leave and be guaranteed your job when you come back.  Three years are added with each additional child.  Three kids, nine years of paid maternity leave.  Family is important in Germany.

Likewise, employees are guaranteed 6 weeks of paid leave (this is also true of France).

I never want to eat yogurt in America again.  I want all my yogurt to come from Europe.  Germany especially has some of the most delicious yogurt I’ve ever had the pleasure of eating.

let’s just blame capitalism for all our woes. such as yogurt lacking in deliciousness.

Now I rest easy knowing I’ve shared all this valuable information on the world wide web.  Until next time my friends!  (I’m hoping that next time will not be preceded by more gastronomical distress but rather with more eating and exploring).  Ciao!

French Class Discussions

Amid the numerous profound discussion/debates we engage in during french class, one of the most memorable topics for me has been that of the difference between tourists and voyagers.  In one of my brighter moments, I made this observation:

“Tourists see what they want to see.  Voyagers see things for what they are.”

As I sat basking in personal glory of this observation that I had voiced in mediocre french, I fell deeper into thought about the distinct difference between these two species of travelers.

Let us begin with tourists for these are usually the most conspicuous and universally recognizable.  When tourists travel, it is to affirm the image of a place.  To go through the guide book and check off the recommended list of sights to see and expensive activities to pay for.  To stay in the most convenient, safest, and comfortable hotel, the one place you should be at least when you’re traveling to a foreign country.  All too often, tourists frequent resorts, confining themselves to a gated, pretty, all-inclusive, free-drinks-all-day idea of whatever country they may be visiting (I am guilty of a past littered with resort vacations, however in my defense I was young and naive and had no other choice than to suffer through pina coladas all day long with my family).  The irony of resorts is that they effectively hide some of the poorest places, perpetuating the ignorance of the world that exists beyond the problems of there not being enough recliners by the pool and too much sugar in that strawberry daiquiri.  Tourists travel to say “oh yes, I’ve been there” but continue to be blindly ignorant to where they have actually been.  Souvenirs, in french, means memories.  Tourists bring back plastic souvenirs to display proudly on their shelves and fridge, minus the souvenirs. You can’t buy memories.  Tourism is a superficial business.  And thus, when tourists travel they only see the printed, glossy surface image of a place much like the ones in the guidebooks.  To “tour” is to color in your personal map by the number.  Mind you, this isn’t meant to be offensive but frankly, when most people speak of tourists it has a bit of a negative connotation and these are the reasons I find this to be true.

Voyagers may travel with a guidebook but they see it for what it is, merely a guide and not a strict schedule of things to be seen and done.  Rather, voyagers will read between the lines, breaking through the glossy surface the tourism industry works so hard to keep from being tarnished.

To voyage is to travel into uncharted lands on your personal map without preconceptions or expectations.  It is to appreciate a place for what it is: cuisine, architecture, government, economy, religion, language, people, and attitude.  And all of this is to be appreciated with an open mind.  Just because something is done differently somewhere else does not mean it is right or wrong.  It is just different.  To voyage is to connect with a culture on a personal level.  To learn the language (or at least attempt to).  To make new friends.  To make an effort to understand a different way of life rather than stubbornly resist it in order preserve your own special agenda. To voyage is to attempt to live life as the locals do. But also to allow yourself to explore as you like, rather than as the guidebook instructs.  To voyage is to gather souvenirs in the form of unforgettable meals, unforgettable friends, and unforgettable experiences.  To voyage is to color in your personal map of previously uncharted lands with the colors of culture, outside of the lines.

The fundamental difference between these two species of travelers is attitude.  There is nothing wrong with tourism (although it may have a negative connotation it does not make it “wrong”), just as there is nothing wrong with voyaging.  They merely represent two different attitudes.  It is up to the traveler to decide which attitude suites themselves best.  But, I think we could benefit from more voyagers, people who dare to see the world for the way it is.  And possibly even dare to accept, maybe even appreciate other ways of life.  People who dare to be surprised by what they might see when they aren’t looking.

Things I should have blogged about in the past few weeks but didn’t so I’m doing it now. Voilà.

What’s blogging consistently anyways?  Blogging is for people who actually have time…

Me, I’m busy living the Nice way, lazily, slowly, and carelessly.  Rough life, I know.  A “nice” way of living if I do say so myself.  Here, you never know what the night life entails until it begins.  Plans are more loosely made than your favorite pair of oversized sweatpants.  And a stroll through the old town usually ends up as rendez-vous with someone you know.  It’s fabulously carefree and  it’s been consistently astounding how things just seem to work out in the end.

Equally as astounding, is the sun.  There is always sun.  Well, except at night time obviously, but it’s an incredibly rare moment when the sun isn’t out during the day.  I haven’t seen a drop of rain in the past three and a half weeks that I’ve been here.  The temperature hasn’t dropped below 55, and is usually at a lovely 60 degrees.  For a weather-worn new englander, it’s like living in an alternate universe where beautiful, consistent weather actually exists.

There is no such thing as the best view in Nice because all the views are beautiful.

Everything is delicious. Pain bagnat. Socca. Pissaladière. Baguette. Croissants. Pain au Chocolate. Pain aux raisins. Chocolate chaud. Beignets. Crepes. Butter. Macarons. Roasted Chicken. Yogurt. Wine. Pizza. Fresh Pasta.  Gnocchi. Chocolate. Avocados.

I’ve meet the loveliest, kindest, friendliest people here than I ever have in my entire life. A personal theory of mine is that Sweden and Norwegia breed people like this (there is a large majority of Swedes and Norwegians at the international school I go to for classes).  Besides Northern Europeans, I’ve had the pleasure of meeting Brazilian, Japanese, Chinese, Russian, Canadian, and American students.

Rue de france

Last weekend, I attended a crepe party.

My french has improved.  This is especially true after a couple of glasses of wine.

Cashiers at major supermarkets sit in chairs. This is smart.

People generally use their own grocery bags that they’ve bought or recycled rather than polluting the earth with a copious amount of plastic each time they go grocery shopping.  This is also smart.

From between 5 and 7 pm you can observe nearly the entire population of Nice carrying baguettes.

Order “un café” and you are ordering a shot of espresso.  I like it better this way.

Poop.  It’s everywhere.  Watch your step.

Watching disney movies in french has become my favorite method for improving my mastery of the french language.

My life has likely been shortened by one year from the amount of second hand smoke I’ve inhaled.  No regrets.

Copious amounts of fat and sugar.  Also, no regrets.

And these are all the things I’d like to say about Nice.  Stay tuned for another inconsistently blogged post.

Gluten Free Mac and Cheese

Included on the list of things to do before I depart for France in 11 days, is of course a list of foods to eat.  Only somebody suffering from a serious obsession puts “eat macaroni and cheese” amongst other important things to do, such as acquiring a power adapter, booking a hostel, buying train tickets from France to the UK, and packing.  I am not ashamed.  Enjoying carbs coated in creamy cheesy goodness and studded with the occasional crunchy edge piece is obviously just as important as packing for five months abroad.  Duh.

Oh yeah, did I mention that a friend and I are leaving the country in 11 days to experience the marvels of France, Germany, and the UK?  Yeah, that’s happening.  Against my better judgment, I started packing a few days ago and now it feels all too real, especially because most of my clothing is no longer easily accessible.  And as the contents of my closet dwindle, so do the days I have left to get all that important stuff I mentioned done.  Being able to check “eat macaroni and cheese” off the list is a huge relief.  I was starting to get really worried I wouldn’t get to it.  But in all seriousness, I’ve still got people to email, places to book, dates to establish, and loads more to pack.  And on top of all that I still have find time to eat ribs.  I simply cannot leave North America without eating ribs.  I also have to consult my people to see if I can fit fried chicken into my busy agenda.  My goodness, my life is so demanding.

Word of advice, if you’ve got loads of things to do, add “eat mac and cheese” to the list.  It may make make your life more demanding, but also far more delicious.

Gluten Free (because it’s still january and I’m sticking to my agenda) Macaroni and Cheese

Ingredients

• 12 oz gluten free elbow macaroni
• 12 oz shredded cheese, of any variety you desire (I used 8 oz of cheddar and 4 oz of smoked cheddar)
• 2 1/2 cups milk (I only happened to have almond milk on hand so that’s what I used but whole milk would usually be the first I’d reach for)
• 2 tablespoons butter
• 2 tablespoons gluten free all purpose flour
• salt and pepper
• pinch of paprika

Preparation

1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees and lightly oil a 9×13 inch casserole pan.
2. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil.  Add the macaroni and cook according to the directions on the package.  Drain and run under cold water to stop the cooking.
3. Melt the butter in a medium saucepan over medium heat.  Add the flour and cook a few minutes until the roux darkens, stirring constantly with a whisk.
4. Slowly add the milk, whisking to ensure a smooth sauce.  Then add the shredded cheese a couple of handfuls at a time, mixing for a smooth consistency.
5. Add in salt, pepper, and a pinch of paprika to taste.
6. Pour the mixture into the prepared pan and bake for 40-45 minutes.  I cranked up the heat to broil for the last few minutes to get a golden brown top.
7. Let cool 10 minutes or risk injuring yourself on molten cheese.
8. Check “eat mac and cheese” off your list of things to do.  Doesn’t productivity feel great?