“Man muss die Feste feiern wie sie fallen”. This reminder, one of my mom’s many hand-me-down German expressions, was reverberating in my mind as the cursor hovered over the “Buy tickets now” flag on my laptop screen. It was not the first time I’d booked a Christmas Markets trip. In winter 2021, when Covid should have been no more than an unsettling memory, skyrocketing incidences of the virus shuttered the beloved annual holiday markets tradition for the second consecutive year. And now, the cursor seems to plead with me, it wants to get the job done. What use is a cursor, if not to click? But I was torn. If I proceed, will I be disappointed yet again? (and left with more annoying airline credits with increasingly ridiculous rules for use). Would the markets even be open? How would we fare at our rapid pace in a cold, wet environment where…
Red Clogs here, reporting in from Lower Saxony (Hannover, Germany) this Sunday morning. It’s raining lightly, the rowers are gliding (seemingly) effortlessly across the tree-encircled Masch lake, and…
“Hey”, I say. “Well…hello…” “Sorry”, I mumble. “I WAS beginning to wonder,” comes the reply. “Everything ok?” “Well….” I venture, “not really. I haven’t been to a grocery…
It all started with a fairly innocuous question. “Hey Dad, what do you want to do for your birthday this year?” His answer – “go to Japan” – led to an 11 day, four city adventure in late March last year, which coincided perfectly with Sakura, the cherry blossom season. Those of you who know us, aren’t going to be surprised by this. It’s how we roll. Nor will you be surprised by the fact that the trip had to be timed around spring break because after 60 years in university lecture halls, and what amounted to about 3 hours of “retirement” in 1999, Dad is still imbuing his passion for Microbiology among upperclass college students. Fortunately it worked out – spring break, birthday, Sakura- check, check, check. My first and only visit to Japan was a short-lived one, nearly 17 years ago. I needed to attend a breakfast meeting…
Hello Red Clog Readers, I’ve been thinking an awful lot about you – you who share in my adventures both around the world and in my home kitchen. …
After four visits to Berlin, three over the past seven years and one when the city was famously divided into East and West, I’m still no expert on…
I have a list of favorite German words. Some, like “Sauerstoff,” “Pfifferling”, “Aschenbecher,” “Schmetterling,” and “Schornsteinfeger”…well, I just like the sound of them. (They mean oxygen, a type of chanterelle, ashtray, butterfly and chimney sweep.) “Punschkrapferl” is a winner too. (Try saying that several times without giggling, especially after an extended night at a Heurige, an Austrian wine tavern.) Aside from the outstanding name, Punschkrapferl just happen to be the most divine, rum-doused Viennese pastry cloaked in pink fondant icing. Other words make the list because they have the perfect meaning. Handschuh? Shoes for the hands. Aka gloves. Stachelschwein? A pig with spikes, e.g., a porcupine. Be careful if you go swimming in Africa, you might encounter a massive River Horse or Fluss (river) Pferd (horse) – hippopotamus. The German language excels in lopping together a bunch of existing words to form new ones. I particularly love “selbstverständlich.” A rough…
I know, I know. You assumed that the next time you heard from the Red Clogger, she would regale you with interesting tidbits about the month and a…
“Isn’t this EXXX-CITING?” exclaims the sophisticated British woman standing behind me in the queue. We are about to embark onto Her Majesty Queen Mary 2 to traverse 3632…
Let’s say you want to plan a trip. (this is a constant state of being for me.) You decide on your criteria. You want to go somewhere with waterfalls and boat rides, caves, a wild animal refuge, shopping into the wee hours of the night, homemade whisky, skilled artisans, excellent coffee and croissants, opportunities to meditate in spiritual surroundings, great prices, and friendly locals. Where might you go? How many of you said Laos? Exactly. Despite a relatively short visit to Luang Prabang, the ceremonial capital of Laos, I was able to experience all the above. Here’s how it went: I lost track of how many hours (days!) it took to fly from LA to Taipei to Bangkok to Luang Prabang. But eventually, our travelling group of 3 friends arrived, bleary-eyed, at the tranquil and gorgeous Villa Maly, our home away from home for the next several days. The villa…